Nameless (Sinister Secrets Book 1)

by Candle Sutton

  Although it could be any form of smuggling, really. They could easily hide stolen goods amid the cases of fish. Who would want to check a bunch of stinky fish too carefully?

  It was also possible the financial increase was completely above-board.

  Somehow, he doubted it. His gut told him they were as dirty as the fish they processed.

  “Agent Lakes?”

  He looked up as one of the data analysts poked his head in the door. “Find something?”

  “Oh yeah.” The small, skinny kid with big glasses and a protruding Adam’s apple bobbed his head enthusiastically. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

  Dak pushed back from his desk and followed the kid up one floor to the Cyber Crime Division.

  As the kid was plopping back into his seat, his fingers were already flying across the keyboard to unlock the workstation.

  A freezeframe from a video popped up. The grainy quality and shading indicated a night image, likely from a security camera.

  “This is footage from that salon by the parking lot. Where the last victim was abducted?” The kid glanced up at him to make sure he was following.

  Dak nodded.

  Pressing a few keys, the image came to life.

  An empty sidewalk. How exciting.

  Two shadows stretched across the sidewalk from the right side of the screen. Seconds later, two figures came into view.

  One stood tall. Even without good lighting, the body structure indicated a man. The other leaned heavily on the first, as though unable to stand independently. Long hair and the slight build made him think female, although it could have been a small man.

  He watched as the pair moved in the opposite direction of the camera.

  Wait. That second person wasn’t walking. She – or he – was being dragged along by the first.

  Their unsub and Paula Lennox?

  Two more figures came into view. These two facing the camera.

  They stopped and engaged with the first two. The encounter lasted only a few seconds before the two groups moved in separate directions.

  He focused on the two men facing the camera.

  “Can you enhance the faces?”

  “Already done.” Satisfaction lined the analyst’s words. He picked up a photo and handed it to Dak. “Those are your two mystery guys. Time stamp is at the bottom.”

  “When did we receive this video?”

  The analyst scowled. “Last night. The salon owner required a warrant before she’d release it. Something about protecting her clients’ identities.”

  Please. That was a pathetic excuse, especially from a salon.

  Still, it wasn’t totally uncommon.

  “Nice work. Were you able to get an identity on these guys?”

  “Didn’t get that far. The bar doesn’t open for another twenty minutes, so I can’t ask for credit card records until then.”

  Dak checked the time. Almost four p.m.

  He had time to run down there, talk to the bartender in person, and make it back before Kevyn showed up. Plenty of time.

  “Never mind. I’m going to pay them a visit. Please let me know if you see anything else of interest on that video.”

  The kid gave him a thumbs-up, then returned to his computer monitor.

  Dak studied the picture while he rode the elevator back to his floor. If the two people walking away were indeed their unsub and Paula Lennox, these two guys might be their first real witnesses.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Not how she’d envisioned spending her Saturday.

  Kevyn offered a plastic smile to yet another customer demanding immediate service and went to the stockroom to look for the correct size.

  So much for removing that load-bearing wall between the kitchen and living room and getting that header installed.

  Once they closed this case. Then she could get back to that project.

  For now, finding Ava, Wendy, and Oliver was far more important than the mess at her house.

  At least the day was going by quickly. She’d already had lunch up at the café, but hadn’t noticed anything suspicious up there.

  Nor had she identified any new suspects down here.

  Hopefully one of the people she’d already identified would pan out.

  Maybe she needed to move to a different part of the store. That would enable her to meet new employees and maybe run into customers that would never look for someone in the intimate apparel department.

  Although this was precisely where Paula Lennox had worked.

  Still, she’d talk to Vivian Monday about moving around more. Even though she technically didn’t work for Nobles, the mid-level managers working today didn’t know that. For now, she needed to be where they expected her to be in order to maintain appearances.

  As she headed to the stockroom for yet another customer, she couldn’t help sighing.

  It was going to be a long weekend.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  The bar was empty when Dak arrived at five minutes past four.

  With the picture in hand, he strode up to the bartender, a thirty-ish man with full beard and thinning hair.

  “What can I get ya, man?”

  “How about some information?” He showed the bartender his badge. “Agent Lakes, FBI. I’m investigating an abduction that occurred outside your place the other night.”

  The bartender nodded as though well aware of the incident. “Yeah, the party girl. But I already answered a buncha questions from that other guy. Don’t know that I got anythin’ more to add.”

  “We have a new lead to follow up.” Dak put his badge away. “Why’d you call her a party girl?”

  The bartender lifted his shoulders limply. “That’s what we call ‘em. Girls that come in, get a little loopy, dance and laugh and carry on. Party girls.”

  Okay. Never mind that the party girl had a name. “Were you working that night?”

  “Man, I’m here pretty much every night. Yeah, I was here.”

  “What do you remember about her?” He knew that Sid had already questioned this guy and gotten nothing, but maybe the man had remembered something new.

  “I told the other guy who was here. She came in, started with a beer, had two more, then added a shot of tequila. She was getting pretty wasted so I cut her off. She laughed a lot, danced with a lot of guys, then left alone.”

  Pretty much the same story he’d given Sid. At least he was consistent.

  Dak slid the photo across the bar. “We think these two guys may have seen the kidnapper. Do you recognize them?”

  “Sure. That’s Danny and Max. They’re in here all the time. I think they share an apartment close by or something.”

  “You got last names for Danny and Max?”

  The bartender looked at him as if he’d asked if the moon was purple. “Nah, man. I check their IDs, but it’s first name when we talk.”

  “How about credit card records? You have those handy?”

  The bartender stared at him. Probably weighing if he wanted to cooperate.

  “Look, I can come back later with a dozen agents and a warrant. Question everyone in this place. From experience, I can tell you it’s a real downer.”

  The bartender held up his hands. “Okay, okay. Don’t get testy.”

  Dak followed the bartender to the end of the counter, where a small computer monitor was nestled behind the bar.

  “Probably gonna take me a bit to find them.” A slight scowl twisted the bartender’s lips.

  “Time stamp puts them out of here at twelve ten. Maybe you could start there and work your way back.”

  The bartender pressed his lips together but began scrolling.

  Several long, silent minutes passed.

  “Got it. Daniel Garcia. Had two beers and paid with a Mastercard. Friend is Max Milligan. Paid with a Visa.”

  Dak jotted both names down. “Thank you. You might have helped us stop a killer. The FBI thanks you for your assistance.”

  Definitely cheesy, but
people liked to feel important.

  The bartender was no different. He puffed out his chest and stood a little taller. “Glad to help.”

  “I’ll get out of your way before you get busy.” Dak held up the picture slightly. “Thanks again.”

  Dak headed out to the FBI fleet car he’d driven and climbed behind the wheel.

  As much as he wanted to look up Danny and Max’s address and head straight there, he needed to do some research first. Find out what he could about the two guys and go armed with that knowledge.

  He might not need it, but it was always best to go in prepared.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Something had felt off all afternoon. Her instincts were screaming.

  Kevyn looked around the department one last time before wrapping up her day.

  Still no sign of anyone watching her. She’d been looking all afternoon, ever since the hairs on the back of her neck started the tango, but she had yet to see anyone remotely suspicious.

  What was wrong with her?

  Usually her instincts were pretty good, so why was she wrong this time?

  Was she wrong this time?

  She stepped into the break room, which was empty at this time of day, and called the security office, asking to speak with the manager.

  When he came on the phone, she hesitated. How did she ask this without sounding like some kind of freak?

  “Did you notice anything suspicious today?”

  A harsh laugh filled her ear. “There are suspicious things happening every day. You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

  The problem was, she couldn’t. “I can’t explain it exactly. Something felt wrong.”

  Silence lingered for a moment. “I didn’t notice anything. Did someone say something? Or do something?”

  This would have been easier if they had. “No. Sorry for bothering you. I guess I’m imagining it.”

  Not that she really believed that.

  Ending the call, she collected her belongings and headed out of the building.

  A light drizzle dampened her face as she put up the hood on her rainslicker.

  She checked her watch. The bus wouldn’t arrive for another ten minutes, so no point in hurrying to the bus stop.

  Instead, she took her time, closely watching the people around her. She stopped, pretending to look at a window display while really checking out the people behind her.

  No familiar faces stood out, although there’d been enough people in the store today that she couldn’t possibly remember them all.

  Still, no one seemed to be watching her.

  So why couldn’t she shake the foreboding that hovered like the gray clouds overhead?

  She joined the cluster of people waiting at the bus stop.

  None of the faces looked familiar.

  Maybe she should contact Dak. Let him know.

  But if she was wrong, she’d look like a paranoid freak. At best. At worst, she’d be the agent who cried wolf.

  The bus arrived and she boarded.

  The feeling wouldn’t dissipate, no matter how many times she checked the people around her.

  She’d spent her career trusting her instincts.

  Taking a seat at the back of the bus, she pulled out her phone and opened a new text.

  Something feels wrong. It’s probably nothing, but if I’m not there in twenty minutes please send help.

  She tapped send and put the phone back in her purse.

  At least now Dak knew exactly when to expect her.

  Just in case her instincts were spot on.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Jax parked his SUV in a darkened parking lot and flipped up the hood on his sweatshirt.

  Nice of the weather to cooperate with him. Wearing a hood up when it wasn’t raining would look suspicious, but no one would give him a second glance today.

  Yesterday he’d followed her onto the bus. He saw where she stopped.

  Today he had his own transportation. Today he’d be at her stop and follow her to a more opportune place. Today he’d take her to her new home, one where she wouldn’t be alone any longer.

  There was her stop.

  According to the schedule, the bus should be here in about eight minutes. Plenty of time for him to find a place to watch.

  A street musician strummed a guitar and softly sang beneath a striped awning outside of a closed pastry shop. Several people stood nearby, undoubtedly trying to get out of the rain.

  Looked like the perfect place to wait.

  He dropped a few bills into the open guitar case beside the musician and leaned against the rough stone wall.

  Several minutes passed before he saw the bus approaching.

  Brakes screeched as it eased to a stop half a block from his location.

  Four people exited the bus.

  He immediately picked out her turquoise raincoat from among the group.

  She passed him, oblivious to his presence.

  Counting to five, he pushed off the wall and followed her.

  She passed a busy Irish pub and cut into the alley adjacent to it.

  An alley. Perfect.

  His sneakers moved silently on the asphalt and his black hoodie and dark jeans blended into the shadows hugging the building. Noise from the busy street behind them masked any sounds he might accidentally make as he closed the gap between them.

  He pulled the syringe from his pocket and popped off the cap. That hood would complicate things a little, but he could still get to her neck.

  Ten feet.

  Six feet.

  Four feet.

  He rushed forward, one arm wrapping around her chest, the other jerking on the hood.

  An elbow caught him in the stomach at the same time that the back of her head collided with his nose. Pain shot through his foot.

  His step faltered, loosening his grip enough for her to twist free.

  She screamed, ran to a steel door, and banged on it.

  No! He was too close!

  He lunged for her, his fingers tangling in the blonde curls that had come free when her hood fell back, and jabbed the syringe into her neck.

  She pushed off the door, her body colliding with his. He stumbled backward.

  Whirling, she swung at him, but the movement was shaky. Unsteady. Her cries for help weakened and she swayed on her feet.

  He reached for her. “Time to come home, sister.”

  In spite of her unsteady stance, she swatted at his outstretched hands. Her head lolled and her knees buckled.

  He caught her as her legs gave out and she went limp.

  Tremors rocked his body.

  They had to get out of here. Now. She’d made too much commotion for him to linger.

  He grabbed her beneath the arms and dragged her away from the building.

  The metal door flew open. A wide man wearing an apron stood silhouetted in the doorway. Light spilled into the alley, illuminating the woman’s legs and feet.

  “Hey! What’s goin’ on out here?” The man’s voice echoed off the metal dumpsters around them.

  Jax froze.

  So close. He had her in his hands!

  The cook didn’t look too fast. Or strong. Could Jax get away with his prize?

  The cook stepped into the alley, light flashing off the butcher’s knife in his hands, a knife Jax hadn’t noticed before. “Leave her alone.”

  Jax would never get away, not carrying the woman’s dead weight.

  He dropped her and fled.

  Footsteps pounded behind him, growing more distant with each step. That chubby cook didn’t stand a chance of catching him.

  But he’d had to leave the woman behind.

  He rounded the corner into another alley and kept going. When the alley intersected a street, he glanced back.

  No sign of the cook.

  Didn’t mean he was in the clear, though. The cook had probably already called the cops, who’d be looking for a guy in a black hoodie.

  He unzipped the hoodie and sh
rugged out of it. Exiting the alley, he joined the foot traffic on the sidewalk.

  A homeless man sat against a building a few feet up. Jax dropped a dollar into the man’s hat and draped his hoodie over the man’s mounded possessions.

  Now to get back to his SUV and get out of here.

  He stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets and strode briskly down the sidewalk, weaving around the slower moving people.

  Sirens sounded somewhere behind him, but there was no way they’d get him. Not now.

  Frustration mounted with each step he took.

  He’d had her! And lost her just as fast.

  Where had he gone wrong?

  She’d put up a stronger fight than any of the others. Much stronger than he’d anticipated.

  And now he’d lost his chance.

  The police would likely be watching her closely from now on. He wouldn’t get another chance to grab her. He’d have to find someone else.

  Unless…

  Could he follow her to her home without being caught? Maybe get inside her house and take her while she slept?

  The idea rooted in his mind.

  It sounded good, but would it work?

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Twenty-five minutes.

  That was how long it had been since the cryptic text from Kevyn had set his nerves on edge.

  Dak looked at the text from Kevyn again, as well as the text he’d sent three minutes ago asking if everything was okay.

  Still no response.

  The delay could be from any number of things. Mechanical or passenger trouble on the bus. Someone stopping to talk to her. Heck, she might’ve ducked into a food place to grab some takeout before coming here.

  Except that she knew he was watching the clock. Plus, she hadn’t responded to his text.

  Lord?

  His silent prayer went up and he listened.

  No booming voice from heaven, but the trepidation in his gut grew.

  He needed to check on this. Check on her.

  He clipped his badge to his waistband, holstered his gun, and shrugged into a plain windbreaker, one that didn’t clearly identify him as FBI.