Brody (Hope City Book 3)

by Kris Michaels

  "So, I never did ask you. Are you dating or married?" Brody glanced at her as he drove away from the curb.

  "Me? No. No time for a social life." As a matter of fact, there had only been Brody, and then because of Gage, she'd decided not to date unless she could see the relationship going somewhere. Most men didn't want a ready-made family. Her dating life had been as dead as a Dodo bird. Extinct was an adequate summation. She glanced at him. "What about you?"

  "Date occasionally." He shrugged a shoulder. "Guess you could say I wasn't willing to let anyone get close after... us."

  "What about the tux?"

  He cut his gaze from traffic to her. A deep crease cut through his brow. "I'd just come back from Brock's wedding."

  "Brock's married?"

  He nodded. "His wife, Kallie, is a cop. Damn good one. Homicide."

  "Really? He's homicide? He'd only just come home from the Marines when..." She let the sentence fade because why make it any more awkward than it already was.

  "Yeah. He's a damn good cop. He and Kallie were the ones responsible for nailing Masters."

  "I heard his name thrown around by the press, but it was in connection with a shooting outside the precinct."

  "Yeah, Kallie's ex-husband. He'd been stalking her, and he tried to kill her, but Brock and Sean McBride were right there along with her partner, Grant."

  "And you? How long have you been on the JDET team?"

  "Almost two years now. I was recruited from patrol to work undercover on a drug case. I volunteered for everything I could until I could pass my sergeant's exam and put in for the transfer."

  "How long do you need to be on the force before you can test for sergeant?"

  "Policy is three years, but no one makes it that early. I made it at six years and that was quick. Of course, there were the bullshit comments about nepotism, but I studied my ass off for the exam and then aced the oral portion two months later. How about you? The DEA?"

  "When Gage was one, I had to do something. Dawn was still in school, and we lived off her student loans. I sent applications to every opening I could find, but no accounting firm would take me on without experience, at least not at a survivable pay. I broadened my net and applied to the DEA, ICE, FBI—any federal job which would allow me to have stability. I was accepted by ICE and the DEA about the same time. I felt the DEA would be a better fit." She snorted. "Wow, well, let me tell you that was a process. I attended orientation, took the written test, passed it. Went through a panel interview. That was something I never want to do again. Did the normal drug test and medical, then the polygraph and psychological assessment. When I finished with all the tests, they did a background investigation. And then shit got real. Eighteen weeks at the DEA Training Academy at Quantico which included physical and firearm training. Thank God I was getting paid. The money was deposited in the bank, and Dawn had access to it. I hated being away from Gage for that long, but it was our future, you know?"

  Brody nodded. "You made sacrifices to raise him."

  "It wasn't really a sacrifice. Dawn loves him and is so good with him. I knew he'd be all right. I did what I needed to do to make sure we could survive. Then Dawn got the job with her company. She's done well there, moved up from administrative assistant to office manager."

  "Why the transfer to JDET? Did you request it?" Brody accelerated onto the interstate.

  "Yeah. The more experience you get in the DEA, the more you are subject to being gone on cases which could last for months on end. I know JDET has some messed up hours, but I'd be home for the most part. My sleep schedule might be messed up, but I'd be home. My son needs it, so do I."

  She glanced at him and caught him giving her an assessing look. Hope I'm measuring up. She'd disappointed enough people lately.

  "Would you have requested the transfer if you’d known I was there?"

  She sighed and dropped her head back on the headrest. "You know, I don't know the answer to your question. I'd like to think I would have, but as shocked as I was when I saw you the first day, I don't know."

  "You didn't even flinch when you saw me."

  "Really? It felt like I stared at you forever. I thought you were a figment of my imagination. You in the briefing room, in a tux. Never in a million years would I have thought up that scenario for running into you."

  "I'm surprised we haven't run into each other before." He hit the turn indicator to merge into the left-hand lane. "We work the same area."

  "Especially the last two years." She nodded in agreement. "For the majority of the time, I've been traveling. Like I said, I needed some stability."

  "Dawn watches him when you're not in town?"

  "Yep. She's put her life on hold for us. She's never complained, but we live with her, and she can't even bring a man home for the night, if you know what I mean."

  "Does she resent it?"

  "Nah, she's been great, but now I'll be able to be in town and for the most part home, so I'm going to start looking for a place for Gage and me. If we have an op, I can count on her to watch him."

  Brody nodded. "Your options have grown even further than that. My family would be able to help."

  Her gut rolled at the thought of Hannah's disapproval. She had absolutely no confidence Hannah would volunteer, but she plastered a smile on her face. "Yes, it will be a nice change. How is your family?"

  "Well, Brock is due back with Kallie tomorrow. Blay is staying with me when he's not at work. He's a firefighter. Brianna has opened her own restaurant. She had help, our cousin Justin gave her the seed money after she interned in his organization for a year. She's done wonderfully."

  "Really? What's the name of her place?"

  "Horizon."

  "The one on East Jefferson?"

  "Yep."

  "I've always wanted to try Horizon, but we never have the time to drive across town. When Gage is hungry, the entire world knows it. Growing boy. You'll see. I know Bekki is on Channel Two. I've seen several of her reports. She's good."

  "She's a brat, and a rock star in her own mind." Brody's full bodied laugh was music to her ears. This was the man she remembered.

  They exited the interstate and she regretted their time together was coming to an end. He merged into traffic and stopped at a red light. "If you don’t mind, I'll call you tonight. We should probably talk about what is going to happen on Saturday."

  "I already told you I'd like it to happen. I think us communicating is a good thing. Good for us and good for Gage. If he sees us tense or uneasy around each other, he'll pick it up immediately."

  "I can't act like it didn't happen, but I promise I'll take your lead on how to deal with his questions."

  "Tell the truth. Anything else is a waste of time. If he asks why you didn't come to see him, tell him the truth. You didn't know about him." She'd take the blame for keeping Brody in the dark, since it was her fault.

  They drove into the parking lot, and he turned off the ignition. "I'll do that. Let's go find out if Masters is going to play ball." He nodded to the small building beside the precinct where JDET resided. It was time to put her game face on. Gage and Dawn needed her to do well in this job. Gage needed her home.

  Chapter 6

  The heavy, iron-barred doors slammed, and the noise echoed down the vacant corridor. The desolate sound still made him flinch, even though he had heard it a thousand times. Amber’s eyes flicked back toward the now locked barrier. Yeah, it was a sound you wouldn’t get used to unless you worked in the prison. Or, God forbid, became a resident. They followed the sheriff’s deputy down the long hallway. Muffled voices from inside the interview rooms could be heard as they passed by the occupied spaces.

  Perhaps it was the unmistakable odor of the facility which added to the overall feeling of hopelessness. No matter what time of year a person entered the facility, the smell of too many people in too small of an area, plus the undeniable dank muskiness of a ventilation system which didn’t work as well as it should, imprinted the odor on a p
erson’s olfactory senses.

  The deputy stopped in front of one of the interrogation rooms. “Masters will be here soon. We have to pull him up from isolation. The ADA is in the facility, and he knows you're here.” He opened the door to the interview room and nodded his head.

  He and Amber shuffled through the open door and took a seat at the six-foot-long metal table. “I thank God I’m not claustrophobic.”

  Amber grimaced and glanced around the room. He scanned the interview room. Barren, bleak, and starkly furnished, with four chairs and two posters—visitation rules and prisoner rights.

  Cliff Sands, the ADA, walked into the room. He and Amber stood to greet the man.

  “Cliff, it’s good to see you again.” Brody extended his hand.

  “And you. What are we looking for in particular with this interview?” He placed his briefcase on the gray metal table and removed a three-inch-thick folder, dropping it to the surface with a thud.

  “We have numerous pieces of information which lead us to believe the Peña cartel is in the process of, or has already started, importing or exporting Gray Death into Hope City. We need Masters to explain his role in the process. Barring that, we need him to explain why he was in the Fairhope neighborhood on numerous occasions prior to his arrest.” He spun his chair around and straddled it as the others sat down.

  Cliff nodded and opened his folder. He looked up and smiled. “I’m sorry, I forgot my manners. I’m Cliff Sands, Assistant District Attorney. And you are?”

  He hurried to make the introductions. “Damn it, I’m sorry. Cliff, this is my new teammate, Amber Swanson. She’s been assigned to the JDET team permanently as a DEA liaison. Amber, this is Cliff Sands, and he’s more than an ADA. He’s one of Brock’s best friends. They served together overseas.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Cliff. Is that file all on Masters?” She nodded to the dark brown pressed cardboard holder.

  “Indeed. As he is representing himself legally, it streamlines the paperwork, believe it or not. I’m not sure how much information you’re going to get from him. He seems to be playing games. I believe his sense of self-worth may outweigh the information he actually can provide, although at this point the DA is willing to see what we can get from him. We were informed the FBI has utilized some of the information they received from him to take down a payment system Peña’s cartel had been utilizing for several years. But as you well know, you plug one hole, and another leak appears.” Cliff leaned back in his chair. “What specifically are you looking for from him?”

  “Based on the suspect’s access to his company’s worldwide and national distribution system, we feel Treyson or Masters are either bringing drugs into the country, or as Amber suggested this morning, shipping them out."

  "From where? Do you have a manufacturing site under surveillance?" Cliff angled his head at them.

  "Actually, our sources have mentioned small airports. Masters’ phone triangulation prior to his arrest puts him in the Fairhope neighborhood repeatedly." He leaned forward. "There is a flight line community up there. Small airplanes in hangars behind houses which line a private airstrip. It would be the easiest way to transport drugs out of the city, under the scope."

  "But you have nothing to base it on except a hunch?"

  "Right. That's why we need Masters to tell us why he was up there."

  Cliff frowned. "And if he has nothing?"

  Amber lifted her hands and spread them wide. "Then we start over. Half our job amounts to nothing more than chasing hunches and running down possibilities."

  "You’re going to have to ask specific questions. The man doesn't postulate. He likes to think he's smarter than us." Cliff shifted in his chair as the door opened.

  Brody shifted his attention to the inmate who was being delivered. A middle aged man shuffled into the room. A paunch bulged his orange jumpsuit around the middle. Shackles made the man shuffle, but the pompous look in the man's eyes was definitely that of the lawyer he'd seen on television.

  They waited for the man to take a seat and the guard to fasten the handcuffs to the bar in the middle of the table.

  "Really?" Masters held up his hands and glanced at Cliff.

  "Really. Now these detectives have several questions for you."

  "What do I receive if I cooperate?" Masters arched an eyebrow.

  "Continued isolation and protection from the Peña cartel. Unless you've decided you're no longer in jeopardy." Cliff stared at the man in a silent face-off.

  Masters blinked first and turned toward them. "Who are you?"

  "Not necessary for you to know," Cliff interrupted when he would have answered. "Detective, your questions."

  "What do you know about Gray Death?" Brody still straddled the chair, his arms crossed over the back of it.

  "Getting old and dying? Not much." Masters chuckled to himself. He was the only one who found the joke funny.

  "I think we're done here. You'll be remanded back to general pop." Cliff stood and they followed suit.

  "Wait! Just, wait." Masters drew a deep breath, but no one sat down. "Peña's people are looking for a way to get drugs into the city. The drug interdiction teams are seizing about one in four shipments. He's tired of losing money."

  Cliff sat down but didn't take the file from his briefcase. "That wasn't the question."

  "The drug is dangerous. It kills anyone who breathes it in or touches it. Unless it is hermetically sealed, it can't be shipped through normal channels. The way packages are shipped and processed, normally, damage can occur, and the shipment would be lost, but more important, the routes would be compromised. Gray death can't be shipped by conventional means."

  Amber glanced at him. Masters had just admitted that Peña's crew were shipping the drugs. They'd report the information back to Terrell.

  Brody stared at the man before he asked, "What is Peña's interest in the Fairhope flightline community?"

  Masters chuckled. "What do you think?"

  Amber leaned forward. "Have you ever picked up any of Peña's shipments, Mr. Masters?"

  The man jerked back. "Of course not! I am a lawyer, not a transporter." His offense was almost comical.

  "You are also serving life for attempted murder of a law enforcement officer," Cliff growled.

  Masters’ jaw ground together before he answered. "I do not transport drugs."

  "Do you know if Peña has people in place or perhaps recruited people to fly from that vicinity?" Brody wanted to know if those drugs were coming into, or hell, being routed out of the city. Either way, it didn't matter.

  "For a fact? No. Assumed? Perhaps." Masters shrugged.

  Amber took her turn, "Was that why you were in Fairhope numerous times immediately before you were arrested?"

  Masters flicked her a glance before dismissing her with, "I had other business in the area."

  Brody fired back, "What kind of business?"

  "I was representing a client in purchasing property." Masters turned to Cliff. "I'm not saying anything further about my client. That is covered under attorney-client privilege."

  He could smell blood, and he was on the trail like a hound dog. "Is this client involved in the transportation of drugs?"

  Masters slowly turned his head toward him. "I have no knowledge of that. Have we met?"

  He shook his head. "No, we've never met."

  "You look familiar."

  "I get that a lot. What do you know about Peña's use of aircraft to transport drugs?"

  "Only that he'd mentioned it." Masters shrugged. "My involvement was limited."

  "Yet, he mentioned possible avenues of transportation while you were present?" Amber cocked her head. "Why was that, Mr. Masters?"

  "I'm sure I wouldn't know, Detective...?"

  Amber smiled at him but didn't give him her name. Masters narrowed his eyes and turned his attention back toward him. "You look very familiar."

  "Detective, do you have any further questions?" Cliff asked with a pointed loo
k in his direction.

  "Mr. Masters, did you coordinate shipments of drugs through any entity of Treyson Enterprises for the Peña cartel?"

  A smile spread across Masters' face. "On more than one occasion, and I assume the methods are still being utilized, but I will only tell you about those processes when the DA agrees to transfer me from this facility to an out-of-state, minimum-security prison, with an untraceable name change. I want a guarantee in writing." He turned and yelled, "Guard!" Then looked at Cliff. "That's my trump card, Mr. Sands. How badly does your DA want to stop the drugs?"

  They sat in silence until Masters was taken out of the small room. As soon as the door shut, Brody said, "I'll brief Captain Terrell on this interview. I'm sure he'll want a sit down with you and the DA to hammer a way forward regarding the shipments through Treyson's empire. In the meantime, how do we get a look at the property sales in the area?"

  "Easy. Property sales, terms, or conditions of mortgages, and such, are recorded in the jurisdiction where the property is located. It's public information. If it's not online, you can go to the Office of the Recorder Of Deeds."

  "Why didn't you want to give him our names?" Amber asked as Cliff stood.

  "Ah, well I suspect the name Detective King would put Masters in a foul mood. Brody's brother Brock was the cop he tried to kill, and Brock and his partner are the reason the man is here. I'm surprised he didn't see the family resemblance sooner. I had the sense he was starting to put two and two together, hence my hurrying the topic along. Did you get what you need?"

  "I think we have enough information to look into it further, but it will be up to Captain Terrell." They shook hands, and Cliff went one direction, deeper into the bowels of the prison, and they went the other.

  Amber took a deep breath as soon as they'd collected their weapons and exited the prison. "The smell of a prison. There's nothing like it."

  "I was thinking that on the way in. Too many bodies, not enough fresh air." He held the outer gate open for her when the deputy buzzed them out.