The Imposter's Trail (The Sean Kruger Series Book 3)

by J. C. Fields

  “Good idea.”

  Chapter 30

  Kansas City, KS

  The house was dark. No external lights were visible from the driveway, and all the windows in the front of the house were unlit. Kruger parked the Mustang behind Stephanie’s Jeep Cherokee on the right side of the driveway. He glanced at the clock on the Mustang’s dash. It was 11:03 p.m.

  Before leaving Springfield for the drive, he called. She told him her sister and husband would be out attending a company function. She would leave the front porch light on for him and wait up. Placing the Mustang in park, he stared at the dark house, his stomach clinching. He stepped out of the car and walked toward the Cherokee, touching the hood as he passed. It was cold to the touch.

  The house was on an oversized lot in an upper-income neighborhood of Overland Park, Kansas. The lot contained numerous mature oaks and maples, allowing only the partial glow of a distant street light to penetrate the gloom. The garage was on the right side and opened to the side, allowing a wider than normal driveway. Two large picture windows featured prominently on the left side of the home, while a covered porch dominated the center of the structure. As Kruger approached the front door, broken glass reflected light from the street lamp. He glanced up. The front porch light was shattered.

  The tightness in his stomach increased as he reached for the Glock 19 in his belt holster. Curtains adorning the two large picture windows were open, something he knew his sister-in-law did not allow at night. As he approached the front entrance, he could see the jam was shattered and the door slightly ajar. A cold shiver coursed through him as unthinkable possibilities reached his consciousness.

  Holding his Glock with both hands pointed down, he leaned his shoulder against the door and increased the opening.

  “Steph… it’s Sean, are you here?”

  His answer was silence from the pitch black interior. As he peered into the darkness, his cell phone vibrated. He looked at the caller ID. Unknown.

  “Yes.”

  “They not there, Agent Kruger.”

  “Who is this?”

  “Not important…”

  “Where are my wife and daughter?”

  “Safe… for now. Maybe you cooperate. Maybe you see them again.” The voice, deep and gruff, spoke English with a heavy accent Kruger could not immediately recognize.

  Remaining silent, Kruger fought to tame his growing panic. The only way to save Stephanie and Kristin was to think logically. “What do you want?”

  “My employer very upset with you.”

  “Yeah… So?”

  “He want you to return his money and stop trying to find him. Back off. Very simple.”

  “I want proof of life first.”

  “They are fine. I will call back in one hour. You talk to wife then.”

  The call ended, Kruger stared at the screen, trying to think. Pushing down the panic, he took a deep breath and sent a text message to a number he knew from memory.

  His phone rang fifteen seconds later. “Did you get the call?”

  “Yeah, good decision having your phone cloned before you left.” JR’s voice was tense.

  “Can you start tracking his location when he calls back?”

  “Already on it.”

  Kruger opened his recent call screen and returned the phone to his ear. “He was on the call less than two minutes.”

  “Smart. It might take several calls. But I’ll be able to get a general location on the next one. Why did he say an hour?”

  “I think he was watching; he knew when I got here. He’s probably moving toward a safe house, so it won’t be too far from Kansas City.”

  “I would agree. While we’ve been talking, I hacked into Verizon’s system and found his number. It’s a burner, sold at a Qwik-Trip. Could be a problem.”

  “Yeah, well, you’ve done it before.”

  “Tricky, but doable. Let me see what I can find. I’ll call you back.”

  The call ended, and Kruger took a deep breath. His earlier panic remained, but having JR’s assistance eased the sharp edges.

  While the minutes crept by, he went to the trunk of his car and grabbed the old duffel bag he kept packed. A habit from his Bureau days. It was the object he retrieved from their ransacked house and placed in the Mustang’s trunk before leaving.

  Returning to the interior of the darkened home, he stood in front of one of the picture windows and watched the street. As he waited, he started changing clothes. He wanted to be ready to leave the house as quickly as possible, anticipating JR would be able to steer him toward Stephanie. He put on a black pair of jeans, a long-sleeved black t-shirt, black socks and black Nike running shoes. He found his black watch cap tucked away in a side pocket of the duffel bag.

  Using a flashlight from the duffel, he walked to the laundry room of the darkened house. After rummaging around, he found a can of black shoe polish in the cabinet above the washing machine. Not what he preferred, but it would do. Returning to the front window, he withdrew several items from the duffel bag. One was his ankle holster, which he strapped to his right leg just above his shoe. He opened a small plastic gun case containing his Glock 26 and secured it in the ankle holster. Next he strapped a Gerber 06 Fast knife to his left calf with two strips of Velcro. He pulled his jeans down over it. Kneeling next to the duffel, he loaded four magazines for his Glock 19 and one for his 26 with 9mm hollow points. When he completed this task, he found the Zip-lock bag Knoll gave him. Opening the bag, he removed the two cylindrical objects. The first was a threaded barrel for his Glock 19, and the second object, a Gem-Tech GM 9 suppressor. He field stripped the Glock 19, replaced its original barrel with the threaded one, and reassembled the gun. He screwed the suppressor on and checked the feel of the pistol. Longer, but not unmanageable. Removing the suppressor, he slipped it into his left sock.

  Exactly fifty nine minutes after the first call, his cell phone vibrated. The caller ID was the same as the previous call.

  “Yes.”

  He heard Stephanie’s voice. “Sean, we’re both okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t take the precautions you taught me.” She sounded strained, but steady.

  “I’ll find you. Try to stay calm and do what he tells you, okay?”

  “Okay, I’ll…”

  The phone was taken away from her, and he heard, “There is proof of life. Now, I will call you back in fifteen minutes with more details.”

  The call ended. Ten seconds later it vibrated again.

  “Where is he?” Kruger knew it was JR on the other end.

  “He’s in north Kansas City, somewhere between 435 and 169, north of 152. If you can keep him on the phone longer than thirty seconds next time, I can narrow it down even further. Possibly to a street and house.”

  “Got it, I’m heading that way.”

  The call ended, and Kruger took a deep breath. He remembered one more item he might need. Returning to the old duffel bag, he found a pair of thin black cotton gloves and put them in the back pocket of his jeans. He dropped the shoe polish in the duffel bag and retrieved a double magazine pouch. Two of the newly loaded extra clips were secured in their slot. He attached the unit on his belt above his left hip. He extracted the magazine from the Glock in his holster, checked it again for the fourth time and slapped it back into the butt of his gun. He then charged the weapon and returned it to his holster.

  He took a deep breath, placed his ID and badge wallet in one of the side pockets of the duffel bag, and exhaled slowly. Tonight he was not an FBI agent. He was a husband and father going after the person responsible for kidnapping his family.

  When the next call came, he was on State Line Road getting ready to merge onto East 435. He answered with, “Yeah.”

  “Here is what you will do, Kruger. You will dismantle the search for Bishop. You will then return all of his money.”

  “Just how in the hell am I supposed to do that? Bishop’s on the most wanted list. Nobody is going to call off the search until he’s in custody.”<
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  “Not my problem. You have the problem. The consequences of not ending search and returning money are not good for family. Once money returned, your family will be returned.”

  “Yeah, you’ve mentioned that.”

  “Are we clear about what you must do?”

  “Very. How do I know you’ll keep your end of the deal?”

  “You do not. This is beauty of arrangement. I control it.”

  The call ended before Kruger could respond. As he followed the highway, 435 turned north and his cell phone vibrated again.

  “Talk to me.”

  “He’s within a few hundred feet of North Oak Trafficway and North East 114th Street.”

  “Can you narrow it down any further?”

  “Maybe, if he makes another call, but not until.”

  “I don’t think he will. I can work with what you’ve found.”

  “Hold on, he’s making another call. Don’t hang up. He’s calling Bishop’s Virgin phone.”

  The phone was silent for three minutes as Kruger waited and drove north. Finally JR came back on. “The house is about two hundred feet east of North Oak Trafficway on 114th. That’s as close as I’m going to get you.”

  “That’s good enough. I can take it from here. Keep monitoring his calls.”

  “You got it. Good luck, Sean.”

  “Thanks.”

  The area in north Kansas City was unfamiliar to him. Using a map app on his cell phone, he located a Casey’s General Store about a mile from the location of the houses. He parked the Mustang in the lot and used the cell phone’s Google Earth feature to look at the area. It was an older neighborhood with mature trees and small older homes.

  The street level portion of the app allowed him to view the neighborhood in detail. As he studied the area, an idea of how to proceed became clearer. It was approaching 1 a.m., and the area was quiet. He drove his car behind the store, put the watch cap on and smeared black shoe polish on his face using the rearview mirror to make sure he was properly covered. He removed the suppressor from his sock and screwed onto his weapon. Satisfied with the results, he took a deep breath and put the car in gear. He carefully drove south and then east to find North Oak Trafficway.

  Ten minutes later, his car was parked behind several other cars in the yard of a house on an adjacent street. He flipped the switch on the dome light to off and slipped the black cotton gloves on. He exited the Mustang and stood up. Looking around he walked toward the area found on the Google Map search, avoiding street lights and houses with porch lights on.

  JR’s instructions mentioned the house was two hundred feet east of Oak Trafficway. He saw two homes within this distance. Both were on the south side of 114th, while the north side was vacant. The mature trees and landscape of the neighborhood provided cover while he surveyed the two structures. Six cars were parked in the driveway and yard of one house, while the other house’s driveway was empty. His best guess was the one without cars.

  Carefully and slowly he circled the building. Disturbing a dog was a concern, but so far none were barking from the surrounding homes. The structure without cars was a plain dirty beige craftsman in serious need of a paint job. Untrimmed bushes dominated the front and the sides of the building. No lights were visible in the front. As he circled around to the back, he noticed lights shining through a basement window. The yard to his right was heavily landscaped with a chain link fence separating the lot of his target house from its neighbor. The bushes and trees provided cover preventing anyone next door from seeing his approach. Even though he was dressed totally in black, he was glad for the cover.

  Peering through the basement window, he saw an unfinished room with an old washer and dryer against one wall left of a staircase. On the other side of the stairs was a wood paneled wall with a closed door three feet from the bottom stair. Moving toward the back of the house, he could see a blue flickering light in a back window. As he got closer, the muffled sound of a television was discernable through the walls of the house. Carefully, he backed up to a point where he was out of the glow from the window, but could see in. A man in his mid-thirties sat in front of the TV drinking a beer. He was slender, dark skinned, with black, stringy hair. Kruger guessed his nationality as either from Southeast Asia or the Pacific basin. On the side table next to him was a cell phone and an automatic pistol.

  A rustling sound could be heard in the yard to his left. As the sound grew louder, a large mixed breed dog poked its large head through the bushes next to the chain link fence. Kruger stood still and watched the dog as it backed away from the fence and moved further down to another opening in the hedge. The dog continued to move further away, so Kruger went back to watching the man in the window.

  When the dog started barking furiously, Kruger retreated further into the shadows of the backyard. The man in the chair, got up, grabbed the pistol and came to the back door. He opened it, stepped out to the wooden back porch, and stood listening. Shaking his head, he yelled, “Shut up, stupid dog.”

  Kruger smiled. It was the voice from the cell phone calls. He stood in the darkness as the man yelled several more times for the dog to stay quiet. The man remained on the porch until the dog grew silent, then stepped inside the house, and closed the door.

  Waiting until the man settled back into the chair before moving, Kruger silently crept through the shadows until he was beside the wooden porch. Carefully, he put his foot onto the bottom step. As he added weight, the board did not squeak. Satisfied, he climbed the remaining two steps. With his Glock 19 in his right hand, he grasped the door knob with his left hand and slowly turned it. It was unlocked. Looking through the door’s glass pane, he could see it opened into a small mud room with a door slightly ajar leading to a kitchen. Kruger opened the door to the mud room, being careful not to let the hinges squeak. Once inside, he glanced into the kitchen area through the open door. Far to the left of the kitchen, he could see the flickering light of the television and the back part of the chair where the man sat. He opened the door wider and prepared for his next move.

  He rushed through the kitchen, keeping his eye on the man sitting in the chair. As he emerged, the man’s eyes grew wide and stared at him. Kruger trained his Glock on the man. “Keep your hands where I can see them.” The man sat still with his hands resting on his legs. “Where are they?”

  A perplexed look turned to anger. “How did… How did you find me?”

  Kruger moved closer to the man. “Where the hell are they? You’ve got five seconds.”

  The man continued to study Kruger. The dog next door started barking louder than before. The staring contest continued until a crazed smile came to the kidnapper’s face and his eyes narrowed. He made a fast grab for his gun just before Kruger shot him above his left eye. The man’s head snapped back as blood and gray matter spread over the cloth of the cheap easy chair. Shaking his head, he grabbed the man’s gun, secured it in his belt next to his back and placed the phone in his back pocket. Quickly locating the stairs to the basement, he ran down two at a time to the closed door. It was locked. He stood back and kicked it with his right foot. The jamb shattered and the door flew back and banged into a wall. Inside the room Kruger saw Stephanie huddled on the floor holding Kristin. Stephanie looked defiantly at him as Kristin whimpered, snuggled in her arms.

  At first, Stephanie didn’t recognize Kruger with the blackened face and watch cap. Shock and anger changed to relief as she realized who it was. She stood and rushed into his arms. “I knew you would find us.”

  Kruger took Kristin in his left arm and held Stephanie in his right arm. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  He quickly led them up the stairs and back to the kitchen. Kristin’s head was buried against her father’s shoulder and Kruger held her so she would not see the carnage sitting in the chair. Stephanie looked at the man with the bullet hole above his left eye. She kicked his leg violently and screamed, “I hope you burn in hell, motherfucker.”

  Kruger frowned.
While justified, it was the first time to hear his wife say anything remotely similar. He decided it would be a topic for a later conversation.

  Kruger stopped just before they entered the kitchen, glanced around, saw what he was looking for and pointed at it.

  “Steph, grab that.”

  She bent over to pick up his spent bullet casing and handed it to him. He stuck it in his right jeans pocket and hesitated. He turned back to the chair and used his cell phone to take a picture of the man in the chair. With this accomplished they hurried through the kitchen.

  As they approached the back door, Kruger glanced out. Not seeing anyone being curious about the noise, he took a breath. “I think the dog barking might have masked the sound of the gun shot. Let’s hope so.”

  Exiting the house through the back door, he hurried them around to the front and down the street to his Mustang. Even though numerous dogs were barking furiously throughout the neighborhood, no one yelled at him or turned a porch light on to check the commotion.

  Fifteen minutes later they were on 435 heading south. During this time Stephanie held Kristin and remained silent, staring out the front windshield of the Mustang. Finally she turned to look at him. “How’d you find us so fast?”

  “JR.”

  She nodded. “Remind me to give him a hug.”

  “We’re going to his place, not home. I’ve got to get you and Kristin to a safe location.”

  Kristin was asleep in her mother’s arms, seat belts and child seats forgotten. Stephanie faced the front window almost in a hypnotic stare and silence dominated the interior of their car again. Finally Kruger took a quick glance at her. “I’m going to find him, Steph.”

  She looked at him. “What do you mean? You shot the man.”

  “No. Bishop’s involved. The man who kidnapped you was hired by Bishop. My failure to arrest him six years ago was the biggest mistake of my life. I have to find him and take him down. It’s the only way our family will ever be safe.”

  She looked at her husband, started to say something, but remained quiet. She returned her attention to the front windshield. Finally after several moments, she nodded.