by C. M. Sutter
“It sure seems that way. Why don’t you go splash some cold water on your face? That might help. After we eat, Cam gets his turn at a nap.”
“Okay, thanks.” I placed my feet on the floor and rubbed my temples. I needed a minute to regroup.
Val cocked her head. “You good?”
I nodded and stood up.
“Okay, we’ve got a dozen sub sandwiches in the conference room. Maria just made a fresh pot of coffee too. Looks like you’re going to need some.”
I turned left out of the lounge and passed through the door of the ladies’ room. At the sink, I cupped my hands under the stream of cool water and brought it up to my face. The water felt good against my skin and revived me. I finger tossed my messy hair and rinsed my dry mouth several times. With a deep sigh, I walked out of the lavatory and followed the corridor to the conference room. The room was abuzz with conversation, laptop computers, and people grabbing sandwiches.
Spelling looked at me as I entered the room. “Welcome back to the world, Monroe. Grab a sandwich and dig in. We’re calling all of the companies in a fifty-mile radius that do vehicle window tinting. Meanwhile, Joe is trying to locate every vacant building in the area that’s in a remote location or grouped with similar buildings without active neighbors. He should have that list complete soon.” He looked from person to person. “Everyone, put down your work for a half hour and eat your lunch. We’ll pick up after we finish our meal.”
I sat next to Cam as I chowed down my turkey sub. “Anything new since I’ve been napping?”
“Nothing has come in on the tip line about the dark-colored panel van. I’m sure it’s because there weren’t identifiable markings in the description.”
“Yeah.” I nodded as I bit into my sandwich and swallowed a quick bite. “What we put out there is pretty vague. Anything to check out as far as the window tint companies?”
“Not yet, but we’ve just started on Milwaukee County. We have a lot of places to call.”
“After lunch, I’ll take over where you left off. You need a power nap.”
Cam nodded and continued eating.
By one o’clock, Cam was napping, the sandwich wrappers had been cleaned off the table, and everyone was hard at work. I took Washburn County window tint businesses just because I was familiar with the area and knew how to get to most of those places quickly if needed. Most of my calls lasted a few short minutes. I asked whether anyone had installed limousine tint on a gold Mercedes sedan, possibly an E-Class, in the last year, but it hadn’t rung any bells so far in Washburn County.
Bill Lewis, Val, and Maria concentrated on Milwaukee County because the business side of that area was so much larger. Bill hung up and jotted some notes.
“Did you get something?” Maria asked.
“Maybe. The person who answered at”—he looked at the business name he had written down—“Tony’s Tint and Trim said according to their records, a gold Mercedes was brought in four months ago for a limousine tint. I asked if they had video surveillance and he said no, but he did remember a little about the man who brought in the car. He said he seemed like an odd duck.”
“In what way?” Spelling asked as he placed his reading glasses on the table.
“Like the customer was trying to camouflage his appearance just in case there were cameras in the area. Tony said the guy acted sketchy and paid in cash.”
I huffed. “Of course he did. No paper trail.”
Hopkins jerked his head toward the door. “Head out and get a full description of the customer to the best of the owner’s recollection. Have him make you a copy of the work order too.”
Lewis stood. “You got it, boss.”
I completed the list for Washburn County without a hit, but only fourteen places specialized in window tint in the entire county, anyway.
“Sir?”
Spelling looked up. “Yes, Jade.”
“Is it okay if I go back to working on the rants from the notecards?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
I studied the sheet of paper I had temporarily set aside and reread the messages. The first one mentioned a job they were about to do with J.T.’s help and a threat that if we interfered, Julie would pay the price. To me, that meant they were about to commit a crime. What I didn’t understand was why they needed J.T.’s help. Maybe they meant that they needed his resources. I scribbled notes to myself in the margins.
The FBI didn’t have a handbook on how to foil crimes before they happened—not to my knowledge, anyway. I thought back to the type of situations handled in the Violent Crimes Division. They included bank robberies, online child predators, gang threats, active shooters, gem and jewelry thefts, and Indian country crimes. I thought about the note cards and the eye-for-an-eye quote, revenge, and the mention of family. This kidnapper had a family member who was either incarcerated or killed. I was leaning toward the latter. The rants sounded too angry to be talking about someone in prison. The mention of payback being long overdue took me back to the three case files where somebody had died in gunfire.
I opened the folders for 2011, 2013, and 2014 where deaths had occurred during shoot-outs between the FBI and criminals. I glanced back at the categories that were considered violent crimes and eliminated the ones that didn’t fit our current situation. I crossed out Indian country crimes and the online predators. Why would they need help or information from J.T.? I looked again and crossed out gang activities and active shooters. Those were dealt with on a day-to-day basis. That left bank robberies and gem and jewelry thefts. With the folders open in front of me, I cross-referenced those three years with bank robberies or jewelry heists. One armored transport robbery occurred in 2014 after the final pickup of the day. The truck was full of money, and according to witness statements, a U-Haul cube van barreled through a stop sign and sideswiped the armored truck on the passenger side, caving in the wheel well and disabling the vehicle. Four men wearing masks jumped out of the U-Haul, commando style, and shot up the vehicle, killing the guard in the passenger seat and wounding two guards in the back as they got out to return fire. That bold stunt netted the thieves a cool nine hundred thousand dollars. It took two months of studying numerous videotapes from the neighborhood and the correct U-Haul agency before the FBI apprehended them. There were witness accounts of the attack on the armored truck, and several people stated they saw identifiable tattoos on the person who seemed to be in charge. With three matching witness descriptions of the tattoos on the back of the hand and wrist of that person, the FBI tracked down the artist who inked the man.
I took a five-minute break to stretch, wake up, and get a fresh cup of coffee from the lunchroom. Back in my chair, I turned the page and dug in again.
The tattoo artist, when finally located, was a young man who worked at a shop along the freeway north of Germantown. According to the report, he had just left a well-known tattoo parlor in Milwaukee and started working at that smaller, less-known establishment in Washburn County. The investigators missed him in Milwaukee by days. He admitted to being the artist and mentioned that the tattoo was a particular design requested by the customer. I flipped the page to the photograph and studied it. The tattoo was simple enough and had only two colors—black and red. The photograph showed two black ovals entwined with a large red V over the top of them. That was it—nothing intricate—and I didn’t understand the significance. I turned the page back to the report and continued reading.
Once the FBI connected the tattoo to a name and found where that man and the rest of the robbers were holed up, they conducted a surprise attack on the house just before sunrise that morning in 2014. J.T. and Curt were the agents in charge. Three of the four robbers were captured unharmed, and one was killed during a heated exchange of gunfire. J.T. happened to be the agent who fired the kill shot.
“You look like you’ve got something, Jade,” Spelling said. “You’ve had your nose in that file for almost an hour.”
“Maybe, but I’m not quite there yet. I
still have to connect the dots.” I continued to read. The robber who had been killed—a Samuel Lee Dunbar—had been adopted as a youth by a Martin and Phyllis Dunbar. Mr. and Mrs. Dunbar were in their sixties at that time and lived in Oregon, according to the report written by J.T. and Curt. Our perp’s rants, especially about family, didn’t fit the profile for Sam Dunbar. I was still in the dark, and none of it was making sense. I closed my eyes for a few minutes to refocus.
“Dead end?” Spelling asked.
“I’m not sure. I thought I had something, but now I have my doubts. I have to dig deeper”—I glanced at the clock—“but for now I’m going to wake up Cam. I need his help.”
Spelling tipped his left wrist toward him and looked at his watch. “Yeah, he’s slept long enough. None of us need more than an hour of sleep a day.” He gave me a thoughtful smile. “You’re very dedicated, Jade, all of you are, and I appreciate the effort everyone is putting in to help find J.T. and Julie.”
I thanked him and headed to the lounge.
Chapter 25
Bill Lewis returned at two thirty with an update on the customer at Tony’s Tint and Trim. He took a seat and pulled out his notepad.
“Okay, here we go. This may or may not be our guy, the one who’s calling the shots for the Pirelli brothers, but it’s all we have at the moment.” Bill waited as everyone took out their notepads. “According to what Tony remembered, he said the guy looked to be about forty, average build, right around six foot, and knocking on the door of two hundred pounds.”
I tapped the pen against my open palm. “Why would he remember such details from an average customer?”
“I asked that very question. Tony said he remembered the part about the build because the customer was about the same size as he was. He said he didn’t have to adjust the seat or mirrors when he moved the car into the work bay.”
Spelling nodded. “What else?”
“The man’s appearance is what Tony remembered the most. He said it was like the customer was trying to look the part of a wealthy man because he brought in that expensive car.”
“In what way?” Cam asked.
“He wore a suit, but Tony noticed a missing button on the jacket’s sleeve. He also said it looked too big for him, like it wasn’t tailored to fit properly.”
“Weird that he’d pay attention to those details,” I said. “I’d understand a woman noticing that, but a man in a window tint shop?”
“According to Tony, he grew up in an Italian household, and his mother and grandmother made sure the kids dressed properly. He told me looking at the way people presented themselves was ingrained in him at an early age. Anyway, the man also wore a black felt fedora and mirrored aviator shades.”
I smirked at the image in my mind. “That would attract even more attention.”
“I assume that’s why Tony remembered him. Because the guy paid in cash, he only had a handwritten receipt. The man signed for the services at the bottom of the slip.” Bill passed the copy around the table. “Of course, the signature is illegible.”
Maria looked up from the receipt. “What about his hair and eye color?”
“No good. The guy never took off the sunglasses or hat.”
“Doesn’t applying window tint take a while? The guy just sat there the entire time without taking off the hat or sunglasses?” Hopkins asked.
“No, he left on foot and came back three hours later.”
“That’s definitely weird. He probably had someone pick him up a few blocks away. Sounds like the man was being overly cautious, which begs the question—why? He didn’t mention his name, even when setting up the appointment?”
“Sure, but it’s likely fake. He called himself C.V. Loomis. I’ve already looked up the name but didn’t get any hits.”
Hopkins leaned back in his chair and scratched his expanding stomach. “Okay, get that information added to the news description of the Mercedes. We need more tips coming in. The way that man dressed had to have raised a few eyebrows. It could spark memories in people once they hear about it on the tip line. Right now, we need all the help we can get.”
I propped my fist against the side of my cheek and rested my head on it. I went back over the files I had been reading. I would start again with the 2011 case and read it thoroughly. If I went through that folder without finding anything I could connect the abduction to, I’d move on to 2013. I’d eliminate one case at a time, but something within the Sam Dunbar file stuck in my craw. I closed the folder for 2011 and went back to 2014. According to the notes and the FBI’s agent investigation with Internal Affairs, J.T. was actually the shooter in that case. He fired the shot that killed Sam Dunbar.
I quickly flipped back to 2011 and 2013 and opened the tabs at the agent investigation interviews. Curt and J.T. were the lead agents in those cases as well, but neither of them shot anyone. Other FBI agents and local police officers aided in those takedowns. The criminals were shot and killed by Agent Whitney out of Racine County in the 2011 case, and a patrol officer got off a lucky round as the 2013 bank robbery unfolded.
There had to be a connection. J.T. and Curt were the only two agents who had been kidnapped, and they both had a hand in cases where deaths occurred between 2011 and 2014. Curt was murdered and tossed out of a moving van, and J.T. was being held prisoner along with Julie. If the abduction was all about the 2014 case where J.T. killed Sam Dunbar, then J.T.’s life was in serious jeopardy. I had to find the connection between the fictitious C.V. Loomis and Samuel Dunbar right away.
Chapter 26
“Hmm… your face looks a bit swollen, Agent Harper. You wouldn’t happen to have a broken jaw, would you?”
“Ask your goons. By their size and attitude, they must have roid rage. Talking doesn’t feel the best.”
“I bet not. Eating is going to be difficult as well. Anyway, I’ve studied your case files for 2014 and found exactly what I was looking for. I’ll be exacting my revenge on you and the city of Milwaukee on Saturday.”
J.T. spoke cautiously. His lower left jaw felt as if it was about to snap. “Yeah, what’s so special about Saturday?”
The man across the room chuckled. “I was hoping you’d ask. That’s the day we’re taking down the transport of the entire inventory of Rosemond Diamonds. I’m sure you’ve read that they’re moving from that small downtown store to Brookfield and setting up shop in their brand-new, swanky building. They think moving their inventory is safer on the weekend. Yeah”—he laughed—“safer for us. You see, a little bird told me the route and time that transport is going down. Imagine their surprise”—he chuckled again, and Anthony and Antonio joined in—“when they don’t have one piece of inventory to display in their glass cases. We’re stealing all of it.”
J.T. huffed at the thought. “This isn’t the Wild West, you know. Robbing an armored vehicle and actually getting away with it is nearly impossible in this day and age.”
“Really? Sam Dunbar and his gang got away with it in 2014, at least for a few months. I’ve studied everything about this upcoming transport and know exactly what we’re going to do. I’ve learned from Sam’s mistakes.”
“Oh yeah, and what did you learn, Carden? Why the interest in Sam Dunbar? He was a low-life crook that had his fifteen minutes of fame until he got a bullet to the head. He was forgotten about once the ink dried on the newspaper article. My case files that you were so interested in don’t explain how we knew where he and his clan were holed up.”
Carden stood and paced while making sure his face remained in the shadows. “For an FBI agent, you’re pretty stupid. I’m not interested in how you found Sam. I wanted to know who killed him. It was you, and that’s what I wanted to know all along. The man you shot and killed—Sam Dunbar—was my brother.”
“You’re full of shit and delusional. Sam Dunbar was adopted and didn’t have any siblings.”
“Think what you want, Agent Harper. This isn’t my first rodeo. Saturday, you’re taking an active part in the armor
ed truck robbery, and just to make sure you do as you’re told, Julie is tagging along for good measure.”
Chapter 27
Bill Lewis returned to the conference room and leaned against the doorframe. “Okay, the news stations are all updated. We have a description of our mystery man, at least the way he dresses on occasion and his height, approximate weight, and age range. I also forwarded photos and descriptions of the Pirelli brothers and said they were armed and dangerous. Now it’s going to be a waiting game in hopes that somebody calls in a tip.”
“Where is Joe with the abandoned building search?” Hopkins asked.
I stood and stretched. “I’ll go find out. I need to get the blood flowing through my limbs again, anyway. I think my butt has already gone numb.”
I walked to the end of the corridor and turned left. The tech department was at the end of that second hallway. Inside, I found everyone hard at work. I was sure every agent and department was helping in the search for J.T. “Hey, Joe.”
He glanced over his shoulder at me. “Jade. Crazy few days, right?”
“You know it. How’s it coming with the building search?” I grabbed a roller stool and wheeled it over to his cubicle then took a seat.
“I just wish we had a better idea of what we’re looking for. There are dozens of empty buildings in Milwaukee County, if that’s even where J.T. and his sister are being held.”
I sucked in a long breath. “You’ve eliminated houses and places within easy earshot of gunfire, right?”
He nodded. “Absolutely, and I still have twenty-nine vacant buildings throughout the county. Mind you, that’s only Milwaukee County.”
“Got it. You can pull up a bird’s-eye view for every building and print them out, right?”
“Yeah, that isn’t a problem.”
“Does it also give us info on the address, size of the building, and how long it’s been abandoned?”
“Not automatically, but I can enter those parameters into the database so that information is attached to each photo.”
