Carolina Rain

by Rick Murcer

  The only sound inside the cabin was the quiet roar of the jet’s engine and Dean’s pen clicking in and out as they waited for Braxton to continue. Manny knew they were going to like what was next, especially Josh.

  “Among other resources we can pull from, we were able to access feeds from local security cameras leading to just about every public, and even some private, businesses up and down the East Coast, particularly within a hundred miles of where Garity was found. Sometimes that’s like looking for a blue fish in the ocean. But we got lucky and found two images of Garity within a mile of where he was found. The first one was of him leaving a local restaurant, alone, three hours before the next image. That image, taken an hour before we think he was shot, was outside a bar near the pier north of Wrightsville Beach, about five miles from where your first Aphrodite body was found. Garity was standing near an SUV, probably a Buick Enclave. The image just wasn’t clear. He was apparently speaking with a tall man, then he walked away and left the camera’s reach. The man he was speaking with followed him, but not before he stopped and, for some damned reason, looked at the camera, smiled, then was gone.”

  “So you got an image?” asked Josh.

  Manny’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he took it out to see that Chloe was calling. He put it back in his pocket. He’d call her back as soon as this was over.

  “Yes. It still wasn’t great. Most of these cameras are in black and white so contrast is tricky. We cleaned it up but it was still fuzzy as hell. We were able to nail down his height and approximate weight in relationship to Garity and where they were standing. About six-three or so and around two hundred and fifteen pounds. He is apparently dark-complected or spent time in the sun.”

  “There’s software available that can enhance those shots. I assume you’ve tried that. If not, I consider myself a bit of an expert in that area,” offered Dean.

  “Dude. Really? You know how to work that stuff? Personal or professional reasons? You know, like naked pictures of Asian women, for instance?” asked Sophie.

  Dean blushed, then recovered. “A little of both,” he said, glancing at Sophie then back to Braxton. “Hey, I had to practice on something.”

  “We ran computer enhancement programs that you probably don’t know exist and we still couldn’t get a true ID, but—”

  Braxton was interrupted.

  “I can answer that part for you,” said Josh, rubbing his face with both hands. “I think I know who this man is.”

  CHAPTER-49

  “It’s done. I’ve finished what you sent me to do and wrapped up all of the loose ends. What’s next?”

  The voice on the other end was silent.

  He’d parked his SUV in the Fort Fisher parking lot on the very south end of Highway 421 away from any possible interruption and observation, just the way he’d been trained. There was only one other vehicle in the lot and it hugged the right of the exit near the building, two hundred feet away. More than that, this way was most effective for him to maintain maximum control over his self-preservation. Watching your back wasn’t just a statement in his world. The work he did for his employer had included eliminations that, if one used his imagination, could lead to the next step, the next loose end, which was him. He was important to his employer, and he guessed not many were able to pull off what he had. Caution wasn’t just a philosophical memorandum to him. One never knew.

  “I have one more place for you to visit and then I want you to come here.”

  Shifting the phone to his other hand, he checked all three rearview mirrors. Only it didn’t quell his growing nervousness. He wasn’t sure why his mind had walked that trail, but he wouldn’t take any chances, particularly given the odd request of his contact.

  “Come there? Are you sure that’s a good idea? What if I run into someone who knows me?”

  The deep authoritative voice spoke again. “That’s not a concern, at this point. You did well and hopefully accomplished what we needed done. We didn’t want anyone, especially Williams, sticking his nose too far into this thing. It’ll be necessary for you to be reassigned. I want you to come in because we still have issues in Las Vegas and you’re just the man to take care of them. Are we clear?”

  It was clear. He didn’t care for the change of policy. Still, he had always been a good soldier and would do what he was told. But he’d do it his way.

  “Where is the place I need to visit?” He kept his voice cool, cooler than he felt.

  “I want you to go to Michigan. There is someone I need you to meet. He’ll explain all of the details and you need to listen. I’m sending you the address. You’ll have two days before the situation in North Carolina heats up for you. They’ll think something’s wrong when you don’t report to work. It will take the locals another day or two to catch on. Flying is too easy to track so I want you to drive. Although, I don’t suppose I have to tell you how to do your job.”

  The phone vibrated in his hand. “Hang on a moment.”

  He had just received the text with the address. He frowned as he read the name and address of the location for his next rendezvous.

  “Are you sure this is right?”

  “It’s correct.”

  “But a cemetery?”

  “Just do what the hell you’re told. Your contact will explain everything.”

  The phone went dead.

  He twisted the phone in his hand, contemplating the end of the call. His man seemed different. Upset, almost. When people were upset, they usually acted less responsibly and certainly more careless than when they maintained total control of all their faculties. Sometimes desperation dictated the modus operandi. He didn’t like desperate.

  Is this man desperate?

  Waiting a few more minutes, he decided he had little choice in the matter, but would do the unexpected and arrive in Michigan a different way entirely. Good soldier or not, he wasn’t going to go down for a situation that might have more to do with personal than business.

  Putting the vehicle in drive, he drove toward the exit when a slumped-over old man leaning heavily on a crooked cane moved into his path. He sized up the old timer and immediately thought he must have been a foot taller when he had been able to stand straight. It was impossible not to think how he would look when he had grown old. He shook his head. If he grew old. In this business, there were no guarantees.

  The old man stopped directly in front of the Enclave and was searching for something on the inside of the pocket of his worn corduroy jacket.

  Rolling down the window, he told the old man to move.

  The man stayed where he was, searching for whatever phantom possession resided in the pocket.

  He spoke to him again. “Move your ass, old boy. I’ve got places to be.”

  Still the old man stood his ground.

  He could have backed up and moved around him, except his obstruction was beginning to piss him off.

  “Last warning, old man. Move or I run your ass over,” he yelled, revving the engine to make his point.

  Finally, the man looked up with sharp eyes and a wrinkled sneer; then he fingered him as he shuffled away from the front of the vehicle.

  He laughed as he took his foot off the brake and started to roll by . . . then the old fart hit his mirror with his cane, cracking the glass.

  “You old bastard,” he bellowed through the window. “You’re going to pay for that.”

  Putting the SUV in park, he jumped out and grabbed the old man’s arm and knew instantly that his life was about to end. He’d made a classic mistake, and it would be his last. The man he’d grabbed had arms of steel. Before he could think another thought, the old man had straightened, spun him around, one large hand on his head, the other on his jaw.

  “How careless, Agent.”

  He heard the snap as fractured vertebrae severed his spinal cord. He slumped to the asphalt, breathing labored breaths as the old man climbed into his vehicle and sped out of the lot. He heard the ocean rush to the shore and noticed s
everal seagulls flying above, screaming like they do. He wondered who his killer was and how he could have been so stupid. Then his body quivered, and the black washed over him.

  CHAPTER-50

  It was almost over. Garcia was lying dead in Fort Fisher’s parking lot, the last remnant of a circle that needed to be closed. Garcia had served his purpose by killing Garity and Tucker. Most of the others were already gone. Just two is all that remained, and that meant less chance to be exposed, but he suspected that consequence was too late to stop, thanks to the Good Doctor. He shook his head. It’d be a bump in the road, no doubt. And something he had no desire to endure. However, it was only that, a bump. He would be delayed, but his unbalanced ledger would eventually be righted.

  Still, he had a problem. He didn’t know how to find the last member of the group. To eliminate him, one needed to locate him. And even then, it would be a dangerous undertaking. His missing compadre had found a way to dance in the wind like no one he’d ever met—and that was disturbing because he’d met many and seen much over the years. That’s why he needed the man flying from North Carolina back to Michigan. If anyone could find his Prodigal Son, it was Special Agent Manny Williams. And, in the end, he would because that’s how these things worked. And, how Manny Williams worked. All he had to do was get through the next few months and supply a few mind-blowing facts to the right sources, and Williams would be all in because he didn’t know when to quit.

  He laughed. Special Agent Williams knew no other way, and he was counting on that.

  CHAPTER-51

  Manny and the others waited for Braxton to finish another urgent call so Josh could complete what he had started when he said he knew who had killed Garity and Max Tucker. Maybe that was why his friend and boss hadn’t seemed just right. In fact, now that he thought about it, Josh had been a little out of the game since they’d reached North Carolina. Particularly after Josh had met Captain Tanner and then had stayed to talk to him about some vague procedural issues instead of going to the last crime scene perpetrated by Anna Ruiz. Manny shook his head. He’d missed it, for whatever reason. There had been something else going on with Tanner and Josh, and it wasn’t related to this case. Then again, he hadn’t exactly been focused on Josh, or the rest of the crew, either. He had indulged in that one-track-train and had ignored his own people and their behavior.

  Lesson learned, Williams. Pay attention.

  Given Josh’s recent behavior by not going to Aphrodite’s last crime scene, he guessed that Tanner had owned something pressing to share and wanted to discuss it with Josh, alone.

  Josh would have trusted his people to do their jobs. Manny frowned. Josh was the boss, but to break protocol, and then not tell his BAU why, was out of character. How many cases and how much information could his friend juggle without telling his staff and friends?

  The big man returned from the back of the plane, then nodded to Josh.

  Josh cleared his throat. “It’s Ginny Krantz’s partner, Ben Garcia.”

  “What?” said Sophie, her eyes wide. “He’s just a local skirt-chasing detective.”

  “That’s what he wanted to portray and pulled it off for three years,” said Josh. “When Captain Tanner hired him, he thought he’d just gotten lucky. Ex-Navy Seal. Bright. He had passed all of the psych exams with flying colors and wanted to live in Wilmington. He thought he’d be the perfect lead detective when Krantz retired and he would have been except—”

  “Tanner found out something?” asked Manny, a little surprised at the revelation but, for some reason, not totally.

  Josh nodded. “It seems there were some inconsistencies when Garcia took time off and where he said he was going. Tanner said he didn’t usually check up on his folks except he’d gotten an anonymous call about four weeks ago that Garcia’s mother hadn’t been in the hospital like he’d claimed. So Tanner started tracking him via cell phone records, GPS reports, and calling to verify he was where he said he was. After a couple of weeks, he was going to bring him in and ask him what the hell was going on but, on that day, they’d helped to fish Garity’s body out of the water. About that same time, the first Aphrodite murder was discovered. Tanner decided it could wait. He thought the guy was probably just screwing around with someone’s wife anyway.”

  “Let me guess . . . except when he noticed that his boy wasn’t anywhere to be found when Max was murdered,” said Manny.

  “That’s right. He saw the report come across his desk a few hours before we got to his office. Garcia had run to Asheville to visit a friend and got back late. When Tanner saw the murder had taken place in Asheville, his wheels turned harder. He decided to see if he could find out where Garcia had been on a couple other local homicides and stumbled across his location the night Garity was killed. You guessed it; he was near that area in Wrightsville Beach.”

  “All right. That all seems a bit circumstantial, though. I mean, Garity was found four miles away and Max in a rest area in the same vicinity with no witnesses,” said Alex.

  “That’s true. Still, there was enough there, including the fact that Tanner knew Garcia had a penchant for not telling the truth and he owned two weapons that were the right caliber. He also liked hollow-point ammunition. But the real kicker came when he found a receipt in Garcia’s cruiser from a local hardware store that showed duct tape and rope, the same type of rope found around Garity’s feet.”

  “Damn. So why did he let him go out to that crime scene last night? What if he’d wanted to kill one of us?” asked Sophie, her eyes burning.

  “She’s right,” said Dean.

  “Damn straight,” chimed in Alex.

  His phone vibrated again, and Manny saw that Chloe was calling back. She hadn’t left a voicemail the first time and he hoped she would again. Either way, his lovely wife would have to wait. He was taken with Sophie’s question and thought he might know the answer.

  “I was waiting for some more info to come back from Quantico and didn’t want him to get suspicious that we thought he was up to something,” said Josh.

  “Not to mention, you weren’t even sure what that meant, right?” asked Manny.

  Manny glanced at Braxton, who had remained quiet during the conversation, then back to Josh. It was suddenly very clear.

  “Garcia wasn’t just a detective. He was moonlighting for an agency, wasn’t he?” asked Manny.

  Josh nodded. “I couldn’t get access to all of his records, including some of his military performance evaluations—a sure sign he was groomed for something else. I do know he was part of the training program that has his other records locked tighter than the gates of hell. The thing about that is the training commitment seemed to end abruptly about four years ago.”

  “How do you know that?” asked Manny.

  “I can get a little further than Agent Corner, although not so much this time,” said Braxton. “It looks like the program ended suddenly, and I don’t know why. He got out of the service a few days later, then landed the job in New Hanover County. He dropped off the military radar, as much as possible, at least, during that timeframe. I found just two bits of info regarding him up to now. Both had to do with extended US Marshal training procedures. One sponsored by the Wilmington people and the other one requested by the Marshal’s office.”

  “The Marshal’s office trains law enforcement all over the world, but they don’t request attendance from people in any organization unless there’s another motive beyond training,” said Josh.

  Manny’s mind was racing with the implications of Garcia being brought in to train by the US Marshals. Did that have to do with this other mysterious training project? But those weren’t the biggest questions.

  “I’m assuming you’re trying to find out who requested Garcia to come in and you’ve been stonewalled,” said Manny.

  “Can’t crack that one with an A-bomb,” agreed Braxton.

  Sophie leaned in to comment. “Taking the final, small leap that Garcia is our man: why? Why did he kill Max and
Garity? And, on top of that, did someone tell him to take them out? If so, who?” She slapped her hands on the table. “Damn it. Listen to me. It’s like I’m talking about some stupid-ass conspiracy game you see on a cheap TV movie.”

  Running his hand through his hair, Manny was suddenly struck with another possibility. Maybe just as farfetched but plausible, nonetheless. Moreover, it felt right. But they’d need to do some legwork. Manny quickly wrote six names on a piece of paper, did it again, and handed one to Josh and one to Braxton.

  He watched Josh’s brow furrow deep as Braxton released a low whistle.

  “Maybe not a conspiracy, in the true sense, Sophie. Instead, maybe it’s something else,” said Manny.

  He turned back to Braxton, who was now standing near Josh’s chair. “Don’t think I’m nuts, but I want you to see if you can tell me what these people were doing four years ago, about the time Garcia’s training ended, and where they were doing it. My wager is that they have something in common.”

  Shrugging, Braxton grinned, eyes twinkling. “Like I said man, you’re a bright one. But trying to find a link to these people, since they’re all dead, might be a tough one. I’ll do my best just because I want to hear what you’re thinking.”

  The big man pulled out his phone and headed toward the back of the jet. Manny appreciated that the man went right to work.

  “I’m going to text this to our tech department and see if they can get to work ASAP. I’ll admit it, Williams, you’ve got me wondering about your take on a possible connection,” said Josh.

  “Well . . .”

  “Who’s on that list and why do you want to find a link?” interrupted Sophie.

  His phone went off again and, this time, Manny was sure he had to answer it. Chloe needed him, even if that meant putting things on hold for a few minutes. He raised his hand to Sophie and the others and took the call.