“Yes. Jed’s holding a press conference in an hour at the Russell Senate Rotunda. Can you be there?”
Renner growled. “I’m headed in the opposite direction. It’s a parking lot, but yes. I can be there. What the hell’s going on in this town today?”
“The usual. A three-car accident with a bus south of the Lincoln Memorial. A peaceful demonstration on immigration in front of the White House.” That explained the traffic.
“A demonstration this time of day?” It was late afternoon and already getting dark with the approaching storm. What were those people thinking?
She chuckled. “Hey, I just pass the news along. It’s not like I approved the permit for that parade.”
Unfortunately, Washington, DC attracted every agitator and do-gooder in the country, and they all wanted to be seen, either by the press or the president. Hopefully, this demonstration stayed peaceful. Which meant the Mall would still be overrun with thousands of people and the streets choked with vehicles. Trains would be jam packed and buses overflowing. Metro PD would have roads closed and enough on-site police presence to choke a horse.
Dodging another belligerent driver, Renner cranked the wheel and performed a lightning-quick illegal U-turn that led him to the roundabout on the Virginia side of Arlington Memorial Bridge. There was more than one way to get into town. “I’ll be there,” he told Ember as he headed southwest. “Any more missing military I need to know about?”
“Yes,” she said somberly. “Another Marine from LeJeune last night. He’s just nineteen.”
Renner’s fist hit the steering wheel. “Damn her. You know what we’re dealing with, don’t you? Montego’s a son of a bitchin’ reincarnated female version of Ted Bundy. She’s just like him, doing the most despicable things and then laughing in our faces!”
“You’re right. She is a sadistic sociopath. Did you know Bundy confessed to committing thirty homicides inside of four years back in the seventies? But authorities believed he killed more. We’ll just never know all of them.”
“Bundy didn’t just kill women,” Renner murmured. “The creep decapitated at least twelve of his victims. They found a dozen severed female heads in his apartment.”
“And he revisited his victims’ decomposing bodies—”
“No,” Renner hissed. “He didn’t.”
“Yes, he did. Until putrefaction made it impossible for him to… you know… those poor women. How on earth do people stoop that low? How do they get so sick to even think of something like that? I don’t understand.”
“I honestly don’t, either.” Renner sighed as he bypassed the I-395 turnoff into the District and headed farther east for the next bridge across the Potomac. It was plenty congested as well, but flowing smoothly at the moment. In minutes, he’d be at the Russell Senate office building on Constitution Avenue and C Street—unless a demonstration was happening there as well.
“Oh, oh, Alex is on my other line. Talk to you later. Bye.”
“Copy that,” he replied as Ember disconnected. The farther from the mayhem at the White House, the less traffic. Renner parked on the street east of the Russell Senate Building, then walked the rest of the way. He arrived just as McCormack’s sleek black limo pulled to the curb on Constitution Avenue.
Most days, McCormack would have waved a cheery hello and headed straight over to shake his hand and ask after his mom. Jed was like that. He knew all Alex’s agents by name and he treated them like friends. He considered himself one of the guys.
Not today. The second he spotted Renner, he jerked his head in the opposite direction. Yet Renner knew he’d made eye contact with the guy. The clever witch at McCormack’s side hadn’t seen him, though. In fact, it seemed McCormack had purposefully positioned himself between Renner and Montego, she on his left, Renner still walking distance away at his right.
He hung back and blended in with the frantic mix of reporters, cameramen, and assorted media hounds that attended press conferences like this. To keep on his senior agent’s good side, Renner tapped his Bluetooth earpiece and phoned Mark. A sitrep ought to make him happy.
“Houston.”
“I’m following McCormack into the Russell Senate Building. He’s holding a press conference. You know about the kid Montego abducted last night?”
“I do. We’re not certain she’s behind Private Demarais’ disappearance, though.”
“You’re kidding me, he’s just a private? Not a stripe? Not an E-3? Did he just step off the bus?”
After arriving at LeJeune on said bus, the young men and women who joined the Marines attended basic training. By the time they graduated, they’d earned their rank of private, E-1, no stripe, no rank insignia. At that point, they were the lowest grunts in the Corps. Their one and only job was to do what they were told, how they were told to do it, and when. Most automatically advanced to PFC, private first class, E-2, one stripe, within a month, then onto lance corporal, E3. But some did not…
Mark sounded weary. “That makes seven since Montego returned.”
“This kid’s disappearance fits her MO though, right?”
“Yes. He went out drinking last night with his buddies. Didn’t show at reveille this morning.”
Renner knew the USMC CID, the Marine Corps Criminal Investigation Department, was deeply involved in tracking Montego, as well as NCIS, the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, the FBI and Homeland Security. That a smaller business like The TEAM had been called in to assist spoke to the desperateness of the situation and to their reputation for getting the tough jobs done. But Montego had to be stopped sooner rather than later.
“You heard from Alex again?”
“Not since we last talked. Kelsey said he and Lexie are down with the flu, that he won’t be in at all today.”
“Good. You do realize that I could end her here and now. Montego,” Renner murmured, tracking the seemingly happy couple past the media gaggle, through the lobby and toward the rotunda, his sight on the killer at McCormack’s side. “Just say the word, Boss, and America’s latest serial killer will be red mist.”
“That’s twice you’ve indicated you’d end someone without due process,” Mark replied testily. “Are you telling me you’re ready to be judge, jury, and executioner? Have you acted on that impulse before?”
“No, but I am here,” Renner drawled, “and we both know—”
“We both know America is founded on the point of law, junior agent. On law and order. We are better than scum like Montego. That’s what sets us apart from every other country on earth. We do this by the book or we don’t do this at all. Am I clear?”
Renner nodded, undisturbed by Mark’s vehemence as he ducked out of sight from Montego’s piercing, roving gaze. The woman certainly had her head on a swivel. It was as if she were expecting someone. Her sharp black eyes were surely searching.
“See, that’s the difference between you and me, Mark. Some victims can’t wait for justice to get around to serving them, and I will do what needs to be done even if it lands me in prison.”
“You’re off the case,” Mark snapped. “In fact—”
Renner interrupted with a chuckle. “Not yet, I’m not. Hang on. McCormack’s got the mike.” Whether Mark liked it or not, Renner disconnected, but kept his finger on the call button. Mark would be back online any second now. He’d be pissed, but Renner had pissed off higher ranking officers before.
Jed McCormack stepped up to the podium amidst glaring lights on tripods and into the media frenzy just as a ballsy male reporter called out, “Hey, LuAnn! Look this way! Smile for the camera! That’s it. Yeah!”
Damned if she didn’t smile and parade-wave back at them as if she were the First Lady. Strings of jade gems glistened around her neck, drawing attention to the plunging neckline of her shimmering green gown. Renner couldn’t see through the crowd to identify her style of footwear for the occasion, but he guesstimated platforms or stilettos since the top of her head usually me
t Jed’s shoulder. Flat-footed, she stood a little over five feet tall and would be hard to keep track of in this crowd. But damn, could she preen.
That a woman as small as she was had performed heinous tortures against more than a couple dozen men, only illustrated the strength of the army behind her. During her last visit to the States, she’d brainwashed nearly twenty men. Some young. Some older. But all military and all tortured until they believed everything she said and did what she told them to do. They were the manpower behind Beau’s kidnapping. An old friend of Alex’s had been involved in that crime. Gave an entirely different slant to the phrase ‘power of a woman’.
McCormack tapped the mike, lifted his chin, and looked into the camera. “Thank you for joining me here today,” he said. “Sorry for the last-minute invitation, but I wanted you here as I announce what I hope will be a long and fruitful association with one of my dearest friends. Please help me welcome Mrs. Kelsey Stewart, the woman behind the District’s successful home for runaways, Raymond’s Kids.”
A smattering of applause followed Kelsey as she stepped out of an adjoining hallway and up into McCormack’s extended arm. Dressed in a simple black dress with a classic string of white pearls on her neck and matching pearl studs in her ears, she smiled shyly at the reporter.
Renner tapped Mark’s cell number and got a terse, “Damn it, Graves. If you ever hang up on—”
“Did you know Kelsey was going to be here with McCormack today?” Renner asked.
“Kelsey’s there? Why?”
“Not sure. He said something about a long and fruitful association. It has to do with Raymond’s Kids. Hold on…”
“Mrs. Stewart has never once flagged in her support of the District’s most vulnerable runaways,” McCormack declared. “As you can imagine, many homeless have flocked to her, and I can safely assure you, they chose her because of her open-door policy and because of her kind heart.”
McCormack paused and straightened his tie. “She has never turned anyone away nor will she. Kelsey is the epitome of what America used to stand for. She has welcomed the weak and the lost, the destitute and the frightened, and in doing that, she’s accomplished what each and every one of us should have done. It is with pride and, dare I say—love?” He looked down at the woman on his right. “I do love you, you know.”
She glanced up at him, nodded.
Jed continued, “Today I’m donating five million dollars to Raymond’s Kids. I sincerely hope this small gift will ease, if not eliminate, every last one of Mrs. Stewart’s financial woes.”
Montego craned her neck to see around him to the woman Renner suspected she saw as her competition. Either that, or she knew precisely who Kelsey was. But Kelsey faced forward, never acknowledging Montego was in the same room.
“He just gave Kelsey a hefty donation. Five mil,” Renner told Mark.
“But why? He already supports Raymond’s Kids,” Mark said. “He’s her biggest donor.”
“And now he owns the place,” Renner muttered, still out of sight behind an array of bright lights focused on the podium.
“Will that money help you stay afloat?” McCormack asked Kelsey.
She blinked up at him. He gazed down at her. For a moment there, it seemed time stopped. The press waited. Montego glared past Jed’s broad shoulders again. He stood there with both Kelsey’s hands in his, his eyes bright and clear, looking like the gallant billionaire he used to be.
Poor Kelsey honestly looked as if she’d been crying. Her tongue slid over her bottom lip. She blinked up at him, then said, “I miss her, Jed,” quietly, but loud enough every microphone in the place picked it up.
The room stilled, and Renner held his breath. McCormack shook his head, the movement almost imperceptible as if he were shaking off a gnat, as if he hadn’t understood what Kelsey was talking about. Either that or—he had.
Once again, the giant of a man seemed to age before Renner’s eyes. His lips thinned and his energetic demeanor flagged. He paled, and the wide gregarious smile he was known for, faded. He coughed, broke eye contact with Kelsey and stared over her at the audience.
“Which is why I’m doing this. My wife adored Kelsey Stewart. Lois always wanted to throw her support behind Raymond’s Kids. We’ve… we’d talked about opening a halfway house to help those lost kids for months before...” The muscles in his jaw ticked. Jed seemed to be struggling to stand upright, and for a moment, Renner thought he teetered. But then he gripped the podium, cocked his head, and murmured into the mic, “I’m just sorry Lois couldn’t be here to see this today. She’d like to know all of you care about the homeless as much as she does, ahem, I mean did.”
Kelsey ran her index finger under her eye, and Renner knew she was crying. It was strange seeing her up there by herself, the timid housewife without the fearsome bodyguard she’d married hulking at her side, ready to rip apart anyone who dared come too close to her. And God help them if they hurt her feelings. Alex would waste them. She seemed so much frailer without him at her side. So small. So pure in comparison to the skank at Jed’s other side.
By now Montego’s bright smile to the press seemed strained, as if she’d had enough of this charade.
“Th-thank you, Jed,” Kelsey said humbly while she turned to face the television camera. “On behalf of all my runaways…”
Jed adjusted the mic so everyone could hear her. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually the one who gets to talk to you guys. That would be my husband. You remember Alex?”
“Yeah, but we’d rather listen to you!” some brash reporter bellowed amidst the guffaws and murmurs that broke out in the rotunda at the mention of her proud man’s name.
Everyone laughed. Everyone but Kelsey. She looked like a bird caught by a bunch of hungry cats.
“Ahem…” The poor thing cleared her throat again. “Thank you so much, Mr. McCormack, for always supporting me and my work. And thank you all from the bottom of my heart for giving Raymond’s Kids a chance. I love all my kids, and I know you do, too.”
Damn, that woman had Alex beat when it came to courage. Renner swiped the corner of his eye when Kelsey bowed her head. Her cheeks were bright red by then, and he was pretty sure she was hyperventilating. She was so out of her league.
McCormack hugged her into his side, and whispered into her ear. Several cameramen stepped in close, capturing Jed with Kelsey while Montego gazed up at the ceiling like she had better things to do.
Kelsey nodded at whatever McCormack was telling her.
“Well?” Mark asked.
“Well, shit,” Renner hissed. “I know damned well something’s up now. Kelsey just told McCormack she missed his wife. He damned near lost it. He loved his wife, Mark. I know he did. It’s written all over his face.”
“Then why’s he sleeping with that bitch?”
“Good question. Just a sec…”
Kelsey had just retreated down the same hall she’d come from. Montego’s lips were twisted. Her eyes were hard and bright, and McCormack’s hands were palms forward to the press.
“Don’t go, there’s more,” he exclaimed. “You’re all invited to the official ribbon cutting ceremony tomorrow night at Raymond’s Kids. On top of that little donation, I’m building a new wing for Mrs. Stewart. You can see the complete scale model. It’ll be fun!”
And just that fast, the last of Renner’s faith in Jed McCormack evaporated. He’d just transformed from a savvy businessman who missed Lois, to a wild-eyed octogenarian with dementia—or something—coming on strong.
“What do you say to that?” he asked the media, his eyes as bright as a five-year-old’s on Christmas morning. “I’m in the mood to play Santa. There’s your byline, people. Kris Kringle strikes the District!”
Renner looked away, sad to be witnessing the decline of a giant like McCormack. America was losing another hero.
“She’s awake,” Mark said quietly.
“Ta
ra?”
“Yes. She won’t talk to me, just keeps asking for you. When are you coming back?”
Renner could not help the smile that creased his lips at that info byte. Go figure. Tara wanted him and only him. Atta girl. “Not sure. I’ve got something to do tonight, and it can’t wait. But I will stop by as soon as I’m done. Tell her that, would you? And just so we’re clear, I’m not going rogue, Mark, and I’m no vigilante. My mouth just gets away from me sometimes.”
“Mine too,” Mark admitted. “Trust me, I’ve wanted to end a few bastards in the past, too. I’ve had a couple in my sights. We’ve just got to be better than criminals like Montego, Renner. We owe all the men she’s killed that much.”
“You’re right.” Renner blew out a sigh. “That’s why we do what we do.”
“Stay in touch.”
“Always, Boss. Always.”
Chapter Twenty
The things Renner most loved about Washington, DC, were the steady magnetism of the world’s most dynamic city, the draw, the allure, and the drama. The twenty-four-seven lights and the Black Hawks flying stealthy and low, perpetually on the prowl overhead, ever faithful as they protected their president and the capital. The energy that emanated from thoroughfares and by-ways, even after business hours in December. And the winter weather. One year it might be seventy degrees at Christmas time in the District, the next year could bring a white-out that shut the city down.
By the time the reporters stopped asking McCormack questions, Kelsey was long gone. Renner headed to his car. The last glimmer in the sky to the west had turned dark, and the storm that had stalled off the East Coast had finally arrived in all its wet, soggy glory. Snow covered his windshield, but it was a mantle of slushy gray instead powdery white. He scraped it off with the edge of his hand, climbed into his car, and pulled away from the curb.
Cranking the defrost to high, he watched through his rearview mirror as McCormack’s limo turned north, headed toward the Union train station—or wherever. As long as he and Montego weren’t going straight home. Renner needed another stab at that penthouse and a look inside McCormack’s bedroom, this time without the interference of a certain cat burglar. Only then would he allow himself a quick combat nap, preferably at Tara’s side. Maybe some bland hospital food, too.
Renner (In the Company of Snipers Book 19) Page 16
