“Here it is!” the first guy announced, all triumphant. “I got it off the chain. The key is your responsibility now.”
A moment later, she heard the solid metal door open. Once the men went through, it clanked shut behind them. And then she heard the sound of the dead bolt clicking into place as they locked it.
Damn. It had been left unlocked last time. She could only hope the key fit both locks. It must, since they’d discussed one key rather than two.
Getting to her feet, Fiona looked around. Somewhere inside this laundry room, a spare key had been hidden. All she needed to do was find it.
Aware that at least one of the guards, if not both, would eventually return, presumably after completing their check on things, she started searching. First, she checked all the obvious places—inside the linen cabinet, on the shelf near the detergent and fabric softener, and behind the bins used to pick up the dirty towels. No sign of a key.
Think. It had to be someplace easily accessible but still well hidden. If the guard was too lazy to carry a key around with him, he wouldn’t want to expend a lot of effort to get it.
The folding table. She checked underneath. Sure enough, someone had glued a small plastic pouch near the front corner. Inside, she found a metal key.
Triumphant, she slid it into her pocket and went to check the dryer. Since her stuff was still wet, she left it there for now and strolled on out and back to her room. She’d come back and retrieve it later.
The key. She had the freaking key. Inside her room, she closed the door. Keeping it in her pocket—because she still wasn’t sure if there might be a camera here or there—she debated not only where to hide it, but whether to show it to Jake.
While she appreciated his help, the FBI wasn’t in the practice of endangering innocent citizens. Going down into the basement could be considered hazardous, therefore she didn’t think she should involve him. Best to go it alone.
Now to figure out when. Clearly, the place was well guarded at night, since the two men had talked about having to sleep there.
It would have to be during the day. From what she’d seen, the guards left periodically, whether to have a meal or just take a break. She’d need to time everything perfectly, so she’d need to learn when the guards left. Patience, she reminded herself. She’d keep an eye on the hallway and make notes whenever she saw guards leaving or arriving.
Satisfied with her plan, even if it was going to take a few days, she decided to focus on Leigh and, by proxy, Micheline.
Micheline’s latest scheme—inventing a fake baby and then trying to sell it to the Colton family—seemed sloppy. Especially for someone usually so meticulous with details. She seemed to be all over the place, at least judging by what Leigh passed on. Schemes of a mass suicide, extorting money from the Coltons, milking impressionable college students: all indicated Micheline was ramping up her attempts to increase her fortune.
Why? What had changed? All along, the AAG had continued to churn away, staying just under the radar of law enforcement. They were widely perceived as charlatans and well-known for bilking people out of their life savings, but due to not only the lack of complaints, but the fact that people received services such as seminars and self-help classes, as well as books, no actual charges had ever been filed.
In fact, until the Mustang Valley Police Department had received several calls from worried relatives believing their family members’ had not only lost their savings in her schemes but that their lives might be in danger, law enforcement had considered their hands to be tied. And then, when an informant had mentioned money laundering, the FBI had gotten involved.
Now this—rumors of something big, something dangerous about to occur had Fiona feeling the pressure. Though undercover stings often were long, drawn out affairs, she knew she couldn’t let anyone die if there was a way to prevent it.
She went for a long walk by herself and called Holden while she was out. Once she’d outlined Micheline’s latest scheme, he whistled. “Are you sleeping with him?”
Though she flushed with embarrassment, she kept her voice steady. “I am. It’s a long story.”
“Ok.” To his credit, Holden didn’t judge. “Though selling a baby is definitely a crime, considering what other misdeeds we think she’s committing, or about to commit, that’s small potatoes, though.”
“True,” she agreed. “I don’t even know if she’ll actually follow through. But it’s the first time I’ve actually witnessed her doing something that could constitute an actual crime. Yet.”
“Just wait and watch,” he said. “And be careful.”
“Always. I did figure out a way to get into the locked basement. I’ve just got to get the timing right. Who knows what I’ll find down there? Since she has the place heavily guarded, it might be something interesting.”
“Heavily?” Holden sounded skeptical. “As far as I know, she only has two men working security detail out there.”
“Really? The way they talked, there are at least three. Who are they?”
“I’ll text you pictures,” Holden replied. “One of them is Randall Cook. He’s thirty-nine, tall, thin, a bit of a sad sack. Brown hair, brown eyes. He’s been at the center for four years, working as a handyman. Worships Micheline and Leigh.”
“Who’s the other?”
“Just a sec.” Holden clearly riffled through some papers. “Micheline’s bodyguard, Bart Akers. Big and brawny with a blond crew cut.”
“I’ve seen him around,” she said. “Met him even.”
“He and Randall Cook are good friends. If Micheline has anyone guarding whatever is in the basement, those two would do it.”
“What about the third guy?” she asked. “They mentioned him hiding a key.”
“No idea. The only other male in Micheline’s inner circle is in custody. Harley Watts. He’s a tech geek, and he does a lot of dark-web work for Micheline. He sent the initial email about Ace not being a biological Colton to the Colton Oil board. So far, he’s not talking.” He snorted. “He appears to think Micheline hung the sun and the moon.”
“There’s more than a few like that out here,” Fiona responded. “I honestly don’t get it. Nothing I’ve seen in Micheline’s character should inspire that kind of blind loyalty. Even her teachings are pretty lame.”
This comment made Holden chuckle. “Yeah, but clearly not everyone feels that way.”
“Well, if there are only two guards, that will make this much easier to manage,” she mused.
“Maybe so. But again, take no chances.”
“I gotcha.”
“And don’t involve Jake Anderson in that. It’s too dangerous,” he advised.
“I wasn’t planning on involving him. It’s bad enough that Micheline lied and told him I was pregnant with his child.”
“She’s reaching for straws. But why the sudden, desperate need for money?” he asked.
“That’s what I’d like to know.” She thought for a minute. “Though I’m sure you’ve already done this, can you have someone check out her financial records again? Look for any huge payments she might have made. Or any large purchases.”
“Will do. And keep me posted if you happen to learn anything more about this possible mass suicide she’s planning.”
Fiona agreed. If she had concrete evidence of something that horrendous, Micheline could be charged with attempted murder. The trick would be to stop her before anyone got hurt.
After hanging up, she turned around and went back inside.
Staking herself in the lobby initially seemed simple. She had no official scheduled duties, other than the multitude of seminars she was supposed to attend. While she still tried to show up periodically for one or two, for the most part she skipped out on them. The constant repetition gave her a headache.
But that afternoon, every time she got into position so she co
uld see if anyone emerged from the hallway near the kitchen, either Leigh called her with a task or someone in the lobby needed her help.
Finally, she got a rare Micheline sighting. Even better, the cult leader was accompanied by her bodyguard, the big goon who’d been one of the two men going into the basement.
“What’s up?” Jake said behind her, startling her. “Watching Her Highness move among her subjects?”
The analogy made her smile. “Yep.”
“Is it me, or does she seem a bit off?” Jake commented. “Look at how jerky her movements are. And her eyes seem a bit...wild.”
Without being too obvious, Fiona watched Micheline. From this distance, she couldn’t hear what the other woman was saying, but Jake did have a point. If she’d been anyone else, Fiona might have thought she was drunk or on something. And who knew, she might very well be. That would definitely explain the sudden, desperate need for cash. Or even worse, Leigh’s strange statement about death and rebirth. She shuddered at the thought.
“Maybe it’s her illness,” Jake said, just a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Though I really don’t think she’s actually sick. That’s the problem with people who constantly cry wolf. It’s hard to know when to believe them.”
Ever mindful of potential cameras or listening devices, Fiona made a sympathetic face. “Cancer is hard. So is the treatment. If she’s started chemo...”
Though Jake made a face, he didn’t comment. Instead, he jerked his head in Micheline’s general direction. “She’s headed this way,” he said.
“Great,” Fiona mouthed, before plastering what she hoped was a worshipful smile on her face. “Micheline,” she gushed. “It’s so great to see you!”
Micheline nodded, as if acknowledging the compliment. “Leigh mentioned you were feeling a bit...left out. Since I wanted you to understand how much I value you, I decided to put aside some of my very valuable time and chat with you. How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” Fiona began, and then realized Micheline was asking because of the imaginary pregnancy. “I haven’t had a chance to get down to the medical center and pick up the prenatal vitamins yet, but I’ll do it today.”
“Good, good.” Now Micheline turned and faced Jake. “And you. Now that you’ve had a little bit of time to reflect on this, have you come to any decision about your involvement with this baby?”
Fiona could see Jake trying to figure out something diplomatic to say. “He and I are still discussing this,” she interjected. “Jake wants to get married and move away to live on his ranch. I’m trying to convince him that our child deserves so much more.”
Spoken like a true, brainwashed believer. It took everything Fiona had not to gag on the words. While she knew in reality she was definitely not pregnant, the idea of handing over a baby to strangers for money was abhorrent. And even if Micheline was successful in extorting the Coltons, Fiona didn’t think it likely that she’d get a whole lot of cash.
“I want to talk about the new thing you’re working on,” Fiona said boldly. “I’m interested in learning about what’s involved with being born again.”
Micheline looked from Fiona to Jake and then back again. Her mouth worked, but no sound came out. Judging by her confused expression and frown, she had no idea what Fiona meant.
“Like in church?” Jake asked, clearly hoping to prod the conversation along.
Instead of answering, Micheline just smiled. “Stay tuned for details,” she said, and then moved away, her bodyguard moving right behind her.
If he was here, that meant the other guy must be down in the basement. If the place was kept guarded at all times, which Fiona now doubted. Micheline simply didn’t have the staff for that. Which was good as far as giving her more time to explore the area once she figured out the guards’ schedule.
“That was weird,” Jake mused. “She really seemed disconnected and unfocused.”
“I’m sure it’s just because she has a lot going on,” Fiona offered, ever conscious of her role. “It’s a heavy responsibility being the spiritual leader for so many people.”
“Not to mention being overly involved in decisions for an unborn child that may or may not actually be born.”
Fiona winced. “Don’t talk about our baby like that,” she said, putting her hands protectively over her still-flat stomach. “Come on, Jake. I know all of this is a shock, but you must know Micheline has our best interests at heart.” She cut her eyes over to the lamp on the decorative table near them. She’d long ago spotted the tiny surveillance camera mounted there.
Giving a small nod, Jake grimaced. “I need some time alone to think.” He shook his head and walked away, leaving her alone in the lobby once again.
Chapter 11
Though he’d assumed Fiona would come after him, Jake wasn’t too surprised when she did not. This situation could go from bad to worse, and she needed to be on top of her game in order to deal with it. Honestly, he couldn’t blame her.
He wasn’t usually a gut instinct kind of guy, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something major was about to go down. Whether it was Micheline’s bizarre attempt to ransom off Fiona’s imaginary baby or something else, he had no way of knowing. Plans had been set in motion, the FBI had Fiona undercover and hopefully by the time the smoke cleared, the woman who’d raised him was going to go down.
For that, he could definitely manage to pretend to be something he wasn’t. He’d never be as good at it as Fiona, but she’d probably had training and years of practice.
Despite being constantly aware Fiona had to play her role, he had to admit doing it himself creeped him out. But then he’d always prided himself on being an up-front, straight-shooting kind of guy. He didn’t like games, he’d never aspired to become an actor and playing along with Fiona was the first time he’d ever done anything like this. He hoped he never had to again.
He caught sight of Micheline’s bodyguard, Bart Akers, talking earnestly to the center’s handyman, Randall Cook. Despite the difference in their appearances—Bart clearly worked out and exuded confidence, while Randall appeared to slouch his way through life—the two men appeared to be good friends. Jake studied Randall carefully. Though Jake had seen the thin, mopey guy lurking around, he’d never actually had a conversation with him. Whatever Randall and Bart were discussing must have been important, judging by Bart’s frequent, emphatic hand gestures and Randall’s defensive posturing.
Finally, the handyman walked away, head down and shoulders bent. Bart stormed off in the opposite direction. Jake made a split-second decision to follow Randall, just for the hell of it. Since Randall appeared lost in his own thoughts, Jake doubted he’d even notice.
To Jake’s surprise, Randall headed toward the huge kitchen area. Where Fiona had mentioned the door that went to the basement was located. Interesting. Maybe Randall was headed there right now. Jake wondered what would happen if he followed him. If and when the handyman noticed him, Jake could come up with some spur-of-the-moment story explaining his presence. He figured since Randall knew Jake was important to Micheline, he’d be safe.
Randall wove through the equipment, neither looking at nor acknowledging any of the other employees. Walking confidently, Jake followed. Randall never looked over his shoulder or indicated any awareness of being followed. Several of the kitchen workers glanced up as they passed, but no one commented. Proof that they were used to Randall coming and going. Jake assumed that meant that they simply believed he was with Randall, who remained oblivious.
Worked for him.
Out of the kitchen finally, and into a short, narrow hallway. They passed a laundry area with several industrial-size washers and dryers. Randall stopped at a metal door and dug in his pocket for a key ring. He then proceeded to curse under his breath as he tried various keys until he finally located one that worked.
After opening the door, he slipped inside, let
ting it slam shut behind him. Jake rushed forward and grabbed the knob, bracing himself for the sound of a dead bolt being engaged.
It didn’t happen. Either Randall didn’t plan on being inside too long, or it never occurred to him that someone might want to follow him. Either way, Jake decided it was too good of an opportunity to miss. He couldn’t wait to see Fiona’s face when he told her.
Cautiously, Jake opened the door. Once inside, he carefully closed it, taking care to make as little sound as possible. He found himself in a well-lit staircase, with metal steps and a handrail. This seemed awfully institutionalized for a private residence, but who knew what Micheline actually used the basement for.
Basement. Who in Arizona even had a basement?
Moving down the metal stairs as quietly as possible, he wasn’t surprised to find a second door at the bottom. This was the one Fiona had gotten to as well, only to find it locked. However, judging by Randall’s attitude, Jake figured this time it wouldn’t be. Turning the handle, he found he was right.
Now came the hard part. Since he had no idea what the layout might be on the other side of that door, he couldn’t judge how exposed he’d be once he stepped through. He’d have to do some fast talking if discovered, that’s for sure.
He took a deep breath, pulled the door open and stepped inside. And found himself blinking at the bright fluorescent lighting.
At first glance, he might have thought he was inside a large animal shelter. Rows of tall cages, roughly eight by six feet, lined one wide hallway. The sharp ammoniacal tang of urine mingled with disinfectant stung his nose.
What the...?
He took a step. The first few cages were empty. But then he caught sight of the occupant in the next one and froze. A man, beaten and bloody, barely conscious, lay on the concrete floor. His clothes were ragged and filthy, stained with blood and dirt and bodily waste.
Stunned, Jake stood in front of the cell, trying to make sense of what he saw. A moan came from the next cage up, drawing his attention. The occupant there—female—peered up at him with sunken eyes, her long hair tangled and dirty, her body all bony angles, as if she’d been starved for weeks.
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