Special Agent

by Valerie Hansen

  “You really do believe the Garwood woman is innocent, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Even if I wasn’t a trained profiler I’d have come to that conclusion. There is no way anybody is a good enough actor to fool me. Katerina is one of the most honest, unassuming people I’ve ever met. I can just look into her eyes and tell.”

  The other agent laughed. “Oh, brother, do you have it bad. I can hardly wait to see a hardheaded guy like you take the fall.”

  “I’m not falling anywhere,” Max argued. “This job is all the fulfillment I need or want. Now, shall we talk about something else?”

  “Whatever. I thought sure you’d want to call California and see how things are going there.” She glanced knowingly at his cell phone.

  “I probably should,” Max said, doing his best to ignore his companion when she started to snicker quietly.

  Katerina answered on the second ring. “Max?”

  “Hey. Just checking on you.”

  “I’m so glad.”

  There was a breathless quality to her voice that concerned him. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine. I called my boss at the Miner’s Grub diner and he said they were shorthanded this afternoon so I volunteered to fill in. And here I am. It’s good to be back at work. I hated sitting in my room alone.”

  “Sorry I couldn’t leave Opal to keep you company. We needed her here.”

  “More bombs?” Fear tinged her previously upbeat tone.

  “Just taking proper precautions. Are you doing the same? Did they get you a good car? I know they didn’t have much to choose from.”

  “It’s fine,” Katerina told him. “Big and ugly and powerful enough to earn me speeding tickets. I love everything about it except the color. It’s dill pickle–green.”

  “Picky, picky, picky,” he teased. “No problems? No suspicious people lurking?” Please, say no.

  “Peaceful and quiet.” She paused. “I wish the same for you. I’ve been praying for you since you left.”

  He was touched—and a little embarrassed for not relying on a faith he used to trust in every instance until it failed him. Twice. “Thanks. Keep your eyes open and don’t hesitate to call 9-1-1 if anything looks out of place or makes you nervous. Okay?”

  “Okay. Hear that bell? I have an order up. Can’t let it get cold. Maybe we can talk again later?”

  “You can count on it,” he said softly. “Take care.”

  The moment he broke the connection Harper giggled. “Want to tell me again that you don’t have feelings for that woman. I’ve known you for years and I have never heard that much tenderness in your voice. Never. You’ve got it bad, Max. Do yourself a favor and admit it before Katerina gets away from you.”

  NINE

  Katerina had told Max the truth. It did feel good to be back at work where she could stay busy and keep from brooding.

  The casual ambience of the tiny diner had surprised her when she’d first entered it in search of a job. The Miner’s Grub was the kind of blue-collar joint her dad wouldn’t have been caught dead in unless he was hunting for votes, which was one reason she had never discovered it herself.

  “I was an awful snob,” she murmured, smiling because she could now see her character fault and willingly change. These people were kind and friendly and down-to-earth in ways she had overlooked in the past. Now she saw them for the children of God that they were. All were equal and worthy in His sight.

  The owner, manager and cook, Xavier Alvarez, pushed open the kitchen door and stuck his balding head through. “You doin’ okay, Señorita Kate?”

  “Fine. Thanks for letting me come back.” She’d been pouring coffee and the distraction of turning to talk to him caused her to slop some onto the long counter. “Oops. Sorry.”

  He laughed good-naturedly. “I’d say I missed my best waitress but I know how you feel about telling the whole truth, so I’ll just say we’re glad for your help.”

  “I will be the best someday,” Katerina promised. “I learned how to make thousand-pound horses behave when I was just a kid. I’m sure I can master a coffeepot.”

  “Muy bien. Very good. How late can you stay? Doris has been sitting up with sick niños for two nights. I’m not sure I can talk her into taking second shift.”

  “I can handle a double,” Katerina assured him, and she meant it. What did not occur to her until she’d spoken was having to drive back to the quaint hotel in the dark. The mere idea that she might have to do it without her planned escort gave her the shivers. Nevertheless, she would do what she had to do in order to keep her job and please her boss. Xavier had hired her when she’d known nothing about serving or prepping food. He’d simply seen someone in need and had provided a way for her to survive while retaining her dignity. She would not let him down.

  Busing tables by the windows gave her a chance to keep an eye on the ugly green barge Max had rented for her. It was a typical grandma car. Just sitting behind the wheel made her feel fifty years older!

  “Which probably helps disguise me,” she told herself. But from whom? There was little doubt at this point that her prior association with Vern was at fault. If he had given her anything to keep for him she would have remembered. There was nothing—except her engagement ring, and it was so infinitesimal it had brought expressions of sympathy from some of her highbrow friends. That was another reason she had never questioned him about money or suspected he was raking it in via drug smuggling. Anybody who was that deep into the culture should have had plenty of spare cash to throw around.

  A scruffy-looking, twentysomething customer seated at the counter motioned her over. Smiling, Katerina grabbed a fresh pot of coffee and approached him. “Refill?”

  “Sure.”

  She’d topped off his cup and started to turn away when he stopped her with, “You’re Vern’s girl, aren’t you?”

  What was the point of denying it? “I used to be.”

  “That’s what I thought. You don’t remember me, do you? We met at a party down by the river last spring.”

  Vague recollections stirred but nothing definitive came to her. “Maybe.”

  “I’m Kyle,” the wiry man said.

  Katerina didn’t like the way he was staring at her, but he wasn’t the first customer who had gotten out of line since she’d started working at the diner. More experienced waitresses had told her to flirt and joke if she wanted good tips. In the case of this man, however, she saw no benefit, particularly since he’d already admitted to being a friend of Vern’s. Any friend of Vern’s was no friend of hers.

  “How about a nice piece of pie with that coffee?” she asked for diversion. “We have apple, cherry, coconut cream...”

  He reached for her.

  Katerina avoided him with a step backward.

  He crooked an index finger. “C’mere. I won’t bite. I just want to give you a message from your boyfriend.”

  “I told you. I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “Funny. He thinks you do.”

  Was she the only one who knew that Vern had been killed? She supposed it was possible, but it seemed to her that his cronies should have gotten the news by now, particularly since criminals were privy to their own insider communications.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah,” Kyle said with a half-smile. “And he wants me to pick up the stuff he hid and turn it into cash for him.”

  “Oh?” Katerina decided to play along and see how far the man would go. He might even reveal some hint that would help her figure out what it was that she was supposed to know about. “What does that have to do with me?”

  “He said he told you where he hid it.”

  “Somebody already trashed my apartment. Maybe they found what Vern wants.”

  Kyle’s smile widened and he briefly averted his
glance. “Uh, nope. That was me. Sorry.”

  “You’re sorry?” She couldn’t help showing ire. “I had to move because of the mess you made.”

  “Yeah, but you got better digs out of it. That nice big window gives you a great view, too.”

  To cover the trembling that had begun when he’d insinuated he was her stalker, she set the coffeepot on the prep counter behind her and folded her arms. “That was you in my hotel room, too?”

  Kyle spread his hands in a gesture meant to convey innocence. Katerina wasn’t buying it. “And you have the gall to come here and face me? You people are unbelievable. Haven’t you ever heard of asking?”

  “Hey, I asked. I left notes.”

  She’d reached the end of her patience. Placing both palms on the counter between them she leaned forward and spoke boldly, never taking her eyes off his disgustingly smug expression.

  “Look, mister, I don’t know what you want or where Vern may have left it, but he sure didn’t tell me. If he had, I’d have turned it over to the police already. Got that?” It was clear he didn’t believe her. “And you can stop pretending that Vern sent you, okay? You and I both know he’s dead.”

  It did her good to see shock on the man’s face. “He’s what?”

  “Dead. Murdered.” Katerina had less trouble expressing herself about it now than she had at first. Acknowledging the loss of her imaginary happy future wasn’t nearly as painful as it had been, undoubtedly because she had lost all faith in her fiancé long before his demise.

  “When?”

  “I heard about it yesterday. I’m surprised you don’t already know. If you’re tied to the same crime bosses he was, you should.”

  Kyle slid off the stool and began to back up, hands raised. “Hey, I’m just an innocent bystander trying to do a favor for a friend. If you’re as smart as you think you are, you’ll tell me where to find those rocks and save yourself a boatload of grief. Whoever arranged to off Vern will be after you, too. And your family.”

  “Rocks?”

  Kyle lowered his voice. “You are either the dumbest woman I’ve ever met or the best liar. The diamonds. Where did he hide them?”

  Diamonds? No wonder her adversaries had been so persistent. Katerina’s mind was whirling as the past weeks flashed by in memory. What was it that Max had said? Oh, yes. He’d been talking about the lack of reasoning behind the ranch explosion.

  “So, if you wanted these diamonds, why did you blow up the stable at my dad’s?” Katerina asked.

  “What? Me? I didn’t blow up nothin’.”

  Score another point for Special Agent West. She pressed her advantage. “Well, maybe you should find out who did because there’s a fair chance that Vern hid what you’re looking for at the ranch. He was out there all the time, visiting me and using my father’s horse business as a transport for his drug smuggling. If he was going to hide anything he’d have had easy access.”

  Kyle was cursing under his breath. She could tell he was extremely nervous because his fists were clenched and he was twitching and shuffling like a racehorse in the starting gate.

  When he finally made up his mind what to do and hurried toward the door, Katerina reached for his coffee mug, pinched the rim with two fingers and set it aside instead of placing it in the dirty dish bin to be taken to the kitchen and washed. Max would be so proud of her, she thought, particularly if the stalker’s fingerprints were on file. She didn’t want to wait but the opportunity to present him with the evidence herself and see his smile was just too good to pass up. Besides, by giving it directly to Max she’d be certain the evidence would be processed quickly.

  Scanning the small diner she started to feel a bit less vulnerable. If the man who had just left truly had been the one who’d been dogging her, she could identify him. That was good, and bad. Now that he had revealed himself to her, he had nothing more to lose.

  * * *

  Max and Harper parked half a block from Penny Potter’s rented house on the outskirts of Billings and donned black Kevlar vests with FBI printed front and back in big white letters. They had considered approaching the house posing as friendly new neighbors but decided against it. The Potter woman would be more likely to cooperate with easily identifiable agents.

  Speaking into the mic clipped to his shoulder, Max gave the standby order. “Harper and I will go in first with the dogs. Everybody hold your positions until I give the order to approach. We don’t want to scare a possible victim or give anybody advance warning. Leo, you and Ian cover the rear.”

  As soon as his teammates had radioed confirmation they were in place, he tightened Opal’s leash and started toward the unassuming home. The residential street was normally quiet. With both ends blockaded by Billings police cars it looked totally deserted.

  The cell phone in his pocket vibrated. Max ignored it. Almost there. “I’ll go first so Opal can clear the way, then you follow. Keep your eyes open but no guns. Use Star for apprehension if need be. There’s supposed to be a little boy in here.”

  “Affirmative. We’ve had surveillance in place for the past twenty-four hours. There’s been no sign of the resident. Or of Jake.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s not here.” Max raised a fist to knock on the door. “Penny Potter. Open up. FBI.”

  There was no answer. He announced himself again, then prepared to kick the door in. His hand gripped the knob. It turned.

  “Front door is unlocked,” Max radioed. “Making entry to check resident welfare. Stand by.”

  Opal and Max led the way with Agent Prentiss waiting in the doorway. He was always on high alert when his dog was searching for explosives. This time, every nerve in his body was firing. If their intelligence was accurate, this place had ties to Morrow’s family and was also within cell tower range of the anonymous tips from someone who might be close to the Duprees. Anything that even hinted of the infamous crime family was bad news, particularly since they had admitted to beginning that series of bombings in retaliation for Reginald’s arrest.

  Nose to the floor, Opal followed an instinctive pattern, disturbed only when Max told her to recheck certain areas, like closets and the toy chest he found in a tiny room that had obviously housed a child.

  Every shadow could hide death, every doorway an armed attacker. Had he not relied on his K-9 partner, his progress would have been considerably slower. And more nerve-wracking. It was bad enough as it was, even though Opal acted as if they were playing a wonderful game of hide-and-seek.

  They came to the outdated kitchen. A booster seat was balanced on one of the padded chairs at the worn-out table. The floor was scuffed but nevertheless clean. A few dirty dishes remained in the sink; a used frying pan atop the stove. Max opened the cupboards just to be sure. Opal’s response assured him there was no bomb.

  “All units, approach with caution. The house is clear. No sign of the mother or child but we haven’t checked the backyard or garage yet.”

  A volley of “Copy” came back to him. Harper was at his side in seconds. “Star isn’t alerting to anything in here, either. I think our chickens have flown the coop.”

  “Apparently. We need to check for signs of the male occupant the neighbors reported.”

  “Copy,” Harper said. She sniffed and furrowed her brow. Her big shepherd was straining at the short lead. “Do you smell that?”

  “Smell what?”

  “Expensive aftershave. It reminds me of the way Jake used to smell when he kept leaning over my desk and making passes at me.”

  Max pointed. “The bathroom is that way. Check it first while I do a sweep of the yard.”

  He hadn’t reached the back porch when he heard Harper shout. “Max! In here.”

  This time he passed Opal. “What is it?”

  “A razor, comb and a bottle of that cologne Jake loved.” She pointed
to a tiny spot of shaving cream on the sink. “This is still wet!”

  Max immediately reached for his radio as he headed for the back door with his dog. “Male occupant may be in the area. Use caution.”

  Opal’s nails clicked on the hard floor as she scrambled to keep pace with her partner. He jerked open the kitchen door and burst out. A high board fence enclosed a small yard. Overgrown bushes filled the corners, some abutting the house. He could see flashing lights of patrol cars in the drive on one side. The other looked open.

  “Prentiss, backyard. All other units stand by.”

  Harper appeared immediately, her German shepherd at her side. Max signaled for her to circle wider into the unencumbered grass while he stayed next to the building. He used Opal to warn them of any booby traps. There was no time for a slower, more meticulous search—not if their quarry was getting away.

  One realization bothered Max. A lot. Whoever had been with the Potter woman was acting almost as savvy and capable as a trained agent. Taking him into custody was not going to be easy.

  Farther out on the lawn, opposite the corner of the house Max was approaching, Harper held Star on a short lead. Max gave her a hand signal to proceed and they coordinated their movements without speaking.

  Opal lunged. Star’s deep bark echoed off the house and fence. For a split second Max saw a tall, lanky, dark-haired man slip around a corner and disappear.

  Harper shouted, “Is that him?”

  Both agents were running at top speed. The dogs would have been faster off leash but they didn’t dare release them until they were sure of their target.

  Max started to reply, “Looked like him,” when his words were drowned out by the rev of a motorcycle engine. Tires squealed. Max rounded the corner just in time to see someone speeding off. When the rider turned to look back he was grinning and wearing the mirrored sunglasses typical of federal agents. If Jake had dyed his dirty-blond hair the resemblance would be uncanny.

  “Person of interest fleeing west on a motorbike. Possibly red. No helmet. May be armed and dangerous.” Sirens in the distance told him there were cars in pursuit.