Edge of Mercy (A Kate Reid Novel Book 11)

by Robin Mahle

  As night settled in, Bishop, with his shorter, lighter hair and thick 5 o’clock shadow, threw his bag over his shoulder and walked out of the Super 8 to hail a cab.

  “The bus depot on Cheltenham, please.” He slipped onto the backseat.

  Coverage of his story had been thankfully brief in the wake of a recent shooting that had taken place the night before in Charlotte. The tragedy offered him a better chance of making it out.

  The driver paid him no attention and it was less likely utilizing a cab would be traceable back to him. Ubers and Lyfts and those sorts of rideshares required online payments, names, and the online accounts. A cab meant he could pay with cash leaving no trail except that the driver had picked up a man with light brown hair at a Super 8 motel in Raleigh under the name of Parnell.

  The bus depot was ahead, and the driver pulled to the curb where passengers disembarked. “That’ll be $27.58, sir.” He turned back to Bishop.

  “Keep the change.” Bishop handed him a 20 and a 10 and quickly stepped out so as not to let the driver get a better look at him. He hurried into the station and pulled on a ballcap and raised the collar of his jacket. He’d already done this once and got away clean. He could do it again.

  Bishop approached the counter. “I’d like to purchase a ticket to Nuevo Laredo, please.”

  “You’re traveling into Mexico?” the man asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll need to see your passport, and you’ll have to purchase a round-trip ticket unless you have a visa to remain in Mexico. Either the FM2 or FM3.”

  Bishop hadn’t considered the legal requirements to stay in Mexico and he had neither of these visas. “I only intend on staying a few weeks.”

  “Then you’ll only need to purchase a roundtrip ticket and provide your passport.” The man waited for Bishop. “Sir? Do you need assistance?”

  “No. Sorry.” He set down his passport on the table. “How much for the roundtrip ticket?”

  “$465, sir,” the man replied.

  He retrieved his wallet and counted the cash before pushing it toward the man behind the desk. “Here you are.”

  “Thank you.” The man held the passport and examined it while studying Bishop. “Remove your baseball hat, please, sir.”

  He pulled off the hat. “I just got my hair cut.” This was taking too long and Bishop’s nerves stood on end.

  The man finally turned back to his computer and scanned the passport. A few more clicks and a ticket printed. “Here you are, sir. Your passport and your tickets. The bus leaves in 90 minutes. You’ll need to change buses twice. Have a nice trip.”

  Bishop felt the relief swell in his chest as he returned his passport to his bag and picked up the tickets. “Thank you.”

  It was Levi Walsh’s job to reach out to the local authorities whenever they entered into a jurisdiction in search of a suspect. When the team, including Agent Palmero, arrived in Raleigh, they drove straight to the police department headquartered in downtown. The time was approaching 9pm and the call had been made of their impending arrival.

  Lieutenant Jackson waited for them in the lobby. “I’ll bet that’s them.” He said to the officer behind the desk. “They sure as shit look like Feds, anyway.”

  The doors parted and Palmero led the way. The lieutenant approached first, but Palmero made the introduction. “You must be Lieutenant Jackson. I’m Agent Palmero, FBI Houston office, and these are the good folks from the FBI in Quantico helping me track down a dangerous suspect.” Palmero introduced the team and turned back to the lieutenant. “You have a man here who has already killed at least 6 that we know of, and we’re pretty sure he’s not finished.”

  “What can we do to help?” Jackson stood firmly and peered at the agents through narrow eyes with ham hands pressed against his thick waist.

  “We’d like a team to help scour your city’s CCTV footage. Right now, we have no idea where he is, but we know he’s here.”

  “That’ll take time and a lot of resources,” the lieutenant replied.

  “Yes, it will.” Palmero looked back at the team. “We’ll be right beside your people to help get it done. There’s no time to waste. We know this man and we know he won’t stay in one place for long.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll put my best people on it.”

  The central headquarters of the police station in a big city like Raleigh had the equipment and the people to expedite the operation. The focus was to be on the bus depot to determine when Bishop, aka Parnell, had arrived and if he used a cab. The video surveillance footage would reveal that information.

  The set-up had been quick, and the team was directed to the control center where most of the department’s large-scale operations took place.

  In the span of two hours, they had seven officers, three tech operators and the lieutenant directing the team inside.

  “I understand that our window is closing,” Lieutenant Jackson began as he walked inside. “But we worked as quickly as possible to get this up and running.”

  “It’s better than any of us could’ve hoped for,” Nick began. “Thank you.” He checked the time. “We know that he arrived earlier this evening, which gives us a good shot that he’ll stay in Raleigh through the night and leave first thing in the morning.”

  “Have we identified whether he used a cab when he left the bus terminal?” Palmero asked.

  “Over here, sir.” One of the officers waved him over.

  While Palmero got an update, the others spread out among the officers to assist in their efforts.

  “There’s a lot of footage to scour,” Kate said as Walsh stood near.

  “Our best shot is tracking down Bishop’s moves after he arrived. Hopefully, a drop off location from the cab company will be easy to narrow down. Palmero’s running on that.” Walsh peered at his phone as a call came in. “Excuse me for a minute.” He continued toward the door and stepped into the hall. “Walsh here.”

  “I just got a hit on the Eli Parnell passport.”

  It was his NSA contact and Walsh wore a look of relief. “Your timing couldn’t be better, my man. We’re here in Raleigh now. Where is the son of a bitch? I got half the city police combing through video surveillance.”

  “You’re not going to like this. The hit was from a bus depot in Raleigh. The Parnell passport was scanned. Your man bought a roundtrip ticket to Nuevo Laredo.”

  Walsh lowered his head. “Mexico?”

  “I’m sorry, man.”

  Walsh inhaled a breath. “The good news is that it’ll take him two days to get there. We’ll just have to intercept the bus…”

  “This is the part you aren’t going to like, Walsh. The report I received is 48 hours old.”

  “That’s impossible. You just said the passport was scanned. Are you telling me it was scanned two days ago and you’re just now finding this out? Two days ago, this guy was in Charlotte working on an ambulance truck. What the hell is going on here?”

  “I had the name flagged—both names. I should’ve received the details within minutes after it was scanned. I didn’t. Call it a glitch, or whatever, but I just got the information and I viewed the report to confirm. I don’t show he’s arrived at the port of entry, so maybe there’s still a chance you can reach him.”

  Walsh shook his head. “Shit. The guy killed someone just yesterday. No, man. You gotta double check this. Something’s not right.”

  “All I can tell you is what I’m looking at right here. Eli Parnell bought a ticket to Mexico two days ago. I don’t know what else to say. I wish it wasn’t the case.”

  “Listen, I gotta go. I got manhours piling up on me here in Raleigh. I need to pull these guys off and figure this out.”

  “For whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, man. I know. Thanks.” Walsh returned his phone to his pocket and walked back inside. He spotted Nick and headed toward him. “We can stop looking.”

  Nick turned around. “Why is that?”

 
“I just got off the phone with my NSA contact. He got a hit on the Parnell passport. The guy bought a ticket to Mexico. It left two days ago.”

  Nick’s face masked in confusion. “He’s gone? What the hell? How is that even…”

  “That’s what we need to figure out. Something’s way off here, and we’d better figure it out damn fast.”

  Walsh and Palmero borrowed a patrol car and with Walsh behind the wheel, he began, “Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. I couldn’t risk a leak, but I’m telling you now. Eli Parnell is Theodore Bishop. A buddy at the NSA has been working with me on tracking down hits on the passport. He got one tonight, but it’s all screwed up.”

  “I thought we were getting on pretty well, man. I thought we could trust each other,” Palmero said. “This is all bullshit. Not only am I sitting here thinking you all kept me out of the loop, but now you’re serving up some horseshit about Bishop leaving for Mexico before he killed his coworker? What the hell, man?”

  “This is on me.” Walsh turned into the bus depot. “I wanted to wait until I knew more. Now that I do, I don’t like what I’m hearing. You can stay pissed off, or we can get to the bottom of whatever shit show this has turned into.”

  Palmero eyed him as Walsh pulled to a stop. “It’s after midnight and my patience is out the door. We’re getting to the bottom of this right now. I’ll let this slide only because I think our problems have just begun and I’m going to need you all. But know this, you keep shit from me on my own investigation again and I’ll have your head, you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear.” Walsh stepped out and hustled inside. He approached the ticket counter and flipped open his badge. “Agent Walsh, FBI. We need to know if a man named Eli Parnell purchased a ticket to Nuevo Laredo earlier tonight.”

  The cashier turned to his computer and typed in the details. “Eli Parnell.” He peered at his screen. “Yeah, it looks like he bought a roundtrip ticket to Nuevo Laredo a couple of days ago.”

  Walsh shot a look to Palmero before returning to the cashier. “Do you remember seeing this man?” He held up a photo of Bishop.

  “Man, I’m sorry, but I see hundreds of people every day. I gotta be honest with you, I hardly pay attention to them.”

  “Please. Just take a look. It’s important we find him,” Palmero added.

  The cashier studied the picture for a moment longer. “I—I’m sorry. I don’t recognize him.”

  “What about security tapes?” Palmero asked. “Can we take a look?”

  “I’ll have to get my supervisor.”

  “Please do that,” Walsh said.

  The cashier disappeared into the back and Walsh looked at Palmero. “How? How the hell does this guy kill someone yesterday and manage to be on a bus to Mexico at the same time?”

  “If we knew that, we wouldn’t be here,” Palmero replied.

  The cashier returned with his supervisor.

  “I’m Ron Weise. Can I help you?”

  “I certainly hope so,” Walsh began. “We need access to your security footage for the past 48 hours.”

  It was 3am when Nick and Kate returned home. The flight on the Bureau’s private jet was somber with hardly a word spoken among the team. Nick held open the door for Kate as she entered the condo. He locked it behind her and set down his bag. “It’s probably best if we try to get in a few hours of sleep. Fisher wants a full briefing first thing in the morning.”

  Kate shed her coat and placed it on the hook next to the door. “I’m sure Eva will fill him in.” She walked to the breakfast bar and dropped onto a stool. “I just can’t believe it. We were so close. How could this have happened?”

  “I wish I knew. Walsh said the video had been erased. An entire day, gone. And he couldn’t identify Bishop on video from the prior day. That man didn’t buy a ticket two days ago. That’s all we know right now. It’s a physical impossibility.”

  “I can’t get my head around it,” she replied.

  “Look, we gave Border Patrol the information. All we can do is hope he hasn’t crossed over yet.” Nick stood in front of her and gently took hold of her shoulders. “It’s late. We’ve been at this for the past 36 hours. We’ll have clearer heads in the morning and can work through this.”

  “Sure. You’re probably right.”

  He wrapped his arm around her waist and led her to the bedroom. “The work you did, though. Going to Providence and interviewing the girlfriend, it was good work. We wouldn’t have known where he was going otherwise.”

  Kate stopped in her tracks and peered up at him. “Hang on. This morning, she said Bishop had contacted her the day before. And we tracked down the cell phone signal. So, how is it possible that he had left two days earlier? That doesn’t make any sense. I mean, I know the guy’s smart and knows how to hide, but…” Kate stopped dead. “He had help. That’s the only answer. Bishop had help covering his tracks.”

  “Who could help him with something like that? He’d have to have friends in very high places with the means to manipulate national security data and private company surveillance. You can’t just go in and change the date someone used their passport and bought a ticket. I mean, that could only be done by someone with access to State Department and Homeland Security data.”

  Kate pursed her lips. “I know… I just…”

  “We aren’t going to get answers tonight. You can stay up and fret through it, or you can try to clear your head and tackle this first thing in the morning. Whatever happened, it doesn’t matter now anyway. Bishop’s gone. If he isn’t in Mexico yet, he will be soon. And if he did have the kind of help you’re talking about, Border Patrol won’t turn up anything either. Once he’s inside Mexico, we won’t get cooperation from them. I’m not sure I want to attempt it anyway.”

  “Why?” Kate asked.

  “They don’t even want us to designate their cartels as terrorists. They aren’t serious about fighting crime and corruption. What makes you think they’ll open up their country and say, ‘hey, come on in FBI.’ It won’t happen. That’s all I’m saying.” Nick continued into the bedroom.

  “It can’t be worse than what we faced in Rio.” Kate walked behind him. “I’ll sleep on it tonight, but this isn’t over. I won’t stop looking for him.”

  Walsh walked into his apartment in Quantico and threw down his keys before dropping onto his sofa. He was a single man and his apartment was decorated to reflect that. He’d been married once but she left him before he finished a tour in Iraq years earlier. The only fortunate thing was that there were no kids involved. Only problem with that was that Walsh felt it had been his only opportunity to have children. He was 42 and time had run out, or so he believed.

  However, in times like these, he appreciated the solitude. If he wanted to punch a hole in the living room wall, which was what he wanted to do right now, he could do so without someone yelling at him. It wouldn’t solve anything, but it was his prerogative. The people he worked with were experts for a reason and that was because they got their man. It had been years since they let one slip by and that was because he had killed himself. Now, Bishop had outsmarted them. But there wasn’t a chance in hell he did it alone.

  Walsh walked into his kitchen and retrieved a bottle of whiskey and a glass. A two-fingered shot ought to do it. At least calm him down enough to sleep. All that he and Kate had worked toward was for nothing. The interviews, all of it, just to see Bishop slip through their fingers.

  Agent Palmero had returned to his office in Houston and the team was scheduled to meet at 7am tomorrow. Fisher would be pissed. He would blame himself for not being there and whatever flow they’d begun to have as a team with Fisher at the helm would vanish.

  Walsh snatched his cell phone from the kitchen counter and pulled up Kate’s contact. “No. Don’t.” He’d learned enough about Kate to know she would also be beating herself up right about now. Even with Scarborough there to vent to, Kate would take this personally. They all would.

  Wals
h set down the glass and walked to his bedroom.

  20

  It was 7am and the BAU team sat around the conference table. Some sipped on their mugs of coffee. Some picked at the bagels that had been brought in. All wore exhaustion and frustration. Fisher surveyed his people. “It doesn’t look like any of you slept much last night,” he said and pushed his hand through his thick hair. “It’s no wonder considering how we left things in Raleigh.”

  “It wasn’t the desired outcome,” Nick began. “Our job was to root out the suspect, create a profile and assist the agent in Houston with predicting when and where we might find Theodore Bishop. We accomplished all of that.”

  “Except capturing him,” Kate added. “Where do we go from here?”

  “I believe we’ve reached the end of the road on this one, Reid,” Fisher replied. “This isn’t the same as what happened in Rio. There, we had a man, a wealthy man, who traveled back and forth and got sloppy.”

  “Why can’t we contact the FBI’s international office in Mexico City and ask them to hunt down Bishop?” Duncan asked. “Assuming he did cross over the border or is about to.”

  “That is likely where we’ll take this, and considering we know who the suspect is, there would be no need for our involvement. In Rio, we worked on profiling an unsub until we got a match. We know who we’re after here,” Fisher replied.

  “Then we have to at least go through the process,” Walsh said. “Duncan’s right. If Bishop is headed there, and I have no reason to believe he isn’t, let those guys in Mexico City know who they’re dealing with. Leave it in their capable hands.”