Gabriel (Guardian Defenders Book 1)

by Kris Michaels

  “Seven. It was right before Valentine’s Day.”

  Gabriel’s phone chirped. He flipped it open and pressed the button to answer the call. “Alpha.”

  “You rang?” Southerland’s voice drawled over the connection.

  “Ken, thanks for calling. I need you to do something for me.”

  “Quid pro quo. I have a little assignment I need to have handled, and technically, it is not in my jurisdiction.”

  “Whose jurisdiction is it?”

  “The Mossad’s.”

  “Interesting. You know I’ll do it if I can.”

  “I was counting on that. What do you need from me?”

  “Agent Harvey here in New Orleans has a theory which I want to investigate. Can you send out a nationwide broadcast to all law enforcement agencies, specifically those in small towns and rural areas, to report any unsolved murders of young women from blunt force trauma to the head?”

  Southerland made a noncommittal noise before he answered, “We can. It can take a while, though. The information age has not reached the cornfields of Nebraska yet, so it can literally take weeks to get the broadcast out as far as possible. Why, what’s going on?”

  “Harvey and his partner recognized a crime scene from photographs a sheriff in Mississippi showed them seven months ago. I believe it is connected to the Brenner case.”

  “So, the theory is the bastard didn’t stop killing, he just stayed off the radar.”

  “That’s it.”

  “You don’t owe me anything on this one, my man. Have Harvey fill out the request, I’ll put the broadcast out first thing.”

  “I’ll let him know. Also, send me the information about the operation in Israel. I’ll do what I can.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be looking for that dispatch. Tell Harvey to send it straight to me. You have my direct fax number, right?”

  “I do.”

  “Give it to him, then tell him to burn it, and forget he ever saw it.”

  He chuckled, “I’ll make that happen.”

  “You always do. I’m out.”

  He ended his call. “Per your Director’s orders, prepare a dispatch and fax it directly to him. He’d appreciate it if you promptly forgot the fax number I’m going to give you.” He jotted the number down on the back of one of his cards and handed it to the agent.

  Harvey pocketed the card, chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “No offense, sir, but I’d be just as happy if that man didn’t know we existed. I really like my sleepy little parish down here. Not wanting to be on the big boy’s radar.”

  “Before you destroy that card, jot down the number on the front. If it ever gets to be too much, call that number, and we can talk about a job.” The other agent chuckled. “I’m Agent Olsen, thought I’d introduce myself since we may be working together for the foreseeable future.”

  “Agent Olsen.” He extended his hand. “If you can, I’d appreciate that sheriff’s contact information.”

  “How about we do you one better. We can make a run over there in the morning. We’ll introduce you to him. That way you can have a look at what information he’s collected. We’ll make copies of his documents and start a file. If what we believe is happening is verified, we’ll need them for whatever task force the Bureau forms. It will help us get ahead and get you a first-hand look. If we leave at six or seven tomorrow morning, we can be back early enough to work on this case.”

  “That sounds like a plan. Where do you want to meet?”

  “We can pick you up. Where are you staying?”

  “We've taken over the Longline building.”

  “The entire building?” Olsen's eyebrows popped.

  “Indeed. Delacroix, you want in on this?”

  “Damn straight, I do.” He eyed Harvey and Olsen. “He has connections, the best toys, and all the money. That job offer he made you? Jump on it.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement. We’ll see you at six.” Harvey patted his pocket, and the agents carefully made their way out of the crime scene.

  Delacroix squared up on Gabriel. “This case just gets shittier and shittier.”

  “Don’t I know it, but Harvey could be onto something. Southerland said it could take weeks to get the dispatch out to the furthest rural areas. I plan on using his people to track down any hits, but I need someone to coordinate the information before it gets to my desk. Interested?”

  “Very, but I don’t think the brass would appreciate me working for you. I’m still on active investigations.”

  “I asked if you were interested, not if you thought your superiors would approve.”

  “Well, when you put it that way, my answer changes to, hell, yeah, I’m interested. I’m also starting to feel the love from the Mayor’s office. They have never been so respectful with requests.”

  “Good, let me know if that changes or if you need high cover. Be at the Longline Building at 5:45 tomorrow morning with any updates from this case. I'll meet you at the security checkpoint.” They carefully stepped out of the crime scene and watched the medical examiner’s van pull away.

  “Why do I get the feeling you always get what you want, Mr. Gabriel?”

  “It’s just Gabriel.”

  “One name, huh? Like Elvis.”

  He chuckled and extended his hand. “He had a last name. Goodnight, Detective.”

  “See you in the morning. I’ll bring the beignets if you have the coffee. Café Du Monde is on my way.”

  “Donuts?”

  “Ah, hell no, man, something way better than donuts. See you in the morning.”

  He watched the detective swagger down the sidewalk before he got into the car that had been waiting for him. Settling back into the seat, he drew a breath. They had a thread to follow. Thankfully. He hadn’t seen Deacon or Jackie today. It had been his intention to meet them when they arrived, but their security was paramount, and finding the killer was the way to ensure their safety. He’d check in with the couple after he returned from Mississippi and hopefully give them an update.

  Chapter 11

  Gabriel opened the car door and drew a deep breath of hot, humid air. The small cement block building in front of him was painted a dark gray but could use another coat. Black letters outlined in white declaring “Sands County Sheriff’s Office” stood out prominently on the front window. Harvey parked just past the building. The bars on the windows at the back of the structure were clearly visible. Holding cells, no doubt. He smiled and looked down the small town’s main street. Two old men sat on a bench outside the one, and probably only, grocery store in town. Someone was sweeping the sidewalk in front of a five and dime. The bank was the bustling place in town. Two cars were parked in front. Can you say Mayberry R.F.D.?

  The door to the sheriff’s office opened and he returned to the matter at hand.

  A giant of a man exited the building. He was so tall he ducked through the doorway. Gabriel judged the man at least six-foot-six or seven. He would be a tough son of a bitch to take down. He was built solid and moved with an agility one didn’t usually see in men his size. “Hello, Agent Harvey. Olsen.” The sheriff nodded and gave Gabriel a curious look.

  Olsen extended his hand. “Sheriff.”

  “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

  Gabriel walked forward and extended his hand. “Sheriff King, my name is Gabriel, I work with Guardian Security. I think you can help us with a case we are currently working.”

  “Is that so?”

  Harvey cleared his throat. “That woman, the one we identified for you seven months ago? We think she may have been a victim of a serial killer.”

  The man’s eyebrows lifted before he nodded. He glanced over his shoulder. “Care to take this inside?”

  They followed the man inside. The interior of the building was clean and uncluttered.

  “Ester, I’m in a meeting. No interruptions, please. Doug can handle any calls that come in. He should be clear of that tractor accident by now.”
/>   “Yes sir, he just called in clear.”

  “Gentlemen.” The sheriff opened the door to a large office. There was a table with four chairs. “Take a seat. I’ll get another chair and that file.”

  He sat down and glanced around the office. Behind a gray metal desk, there was a shelf dedicated to pictures of the man’s family, and damn, he had a lot of kids. The smiling faces also peppered the shelves that held what appeared to be volumes of legal books.

  The door reopened, and the woman the sheriff had spoken to as they entered came in. She had a pot of coffee perched on a tray with five cups. “Chance said to bring you some coffee. He’s pulled the file and has to take a quick call, but he’ll be right back.”

  “Thank you.” Delacroix stood and took the tray from the woman.

  “No problem.” She pointed to an oak credenza at the far side of the office. “There is sugar in the top drawer if you have to have it. None of us take that creamer crap or sugar, but Chance keeps those little pouches for his wife when she stops in. Grab you some if you need it.”

  The door had barely shut after her before the sheriff returned.

  “Sorry for the delay.” He closed the door with his foot, sat down in the metal chair he was carrying before he slid the file onto the table.

  Gabriel pulled it closer, and both he and Delacroix bent over it.

  “We’ll need copies of everything.” Olsen poured a cup of coffee and handed it to the sheriff.

  “I figured you’d take the originals.”

  Gabriel raised his eyes to the sheriff, as Harvey answered. “We’ll probably be back for them. Right now, we are in information-gathering mode. Detective Delacroix and Mr. Gabriel here are working a case in New Orleans that we believe is connected to this murder.”

  “Then I’ll make two copies. One for you to take today and one set for us when the request comes for the originals. What makes you think these cases are connected, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  He’d seen enough of the case file. He was certain this was the work of the man he’d lost track of six years ago. “Same MO. He poses all the women like this. The exsanguination, and the blunt force trauma.”

  The sheriff leaned back in his chair, and the metal groaned under his weight. He stared down at his cup. “So, the probability is you’re looking for a psychopath. Based on the lack of defensive wounds on my victim, I’m assuming a man who is charming and manipulative, perhaps even non-threatening. When we contacted law enforcement in Iowa, they said Sabrina was a nice woman. Single, religious, and from a good family, but they noted she was quiet and shy. Whoever did this to her targets others like her?”

  Gabriel leaned forward. “Our profilers think he is a psychopath, and yes, more on the lines of Bundy rather than Gacy. From the information we have about his other victims, the ones we knew about from before we assumed that he fell off the face of the earth, the women he targeted were all over the board. If he is developing a relationship with them, then he’s changed from a grab and dash.” He tapped the file Delacroix had just closed.

  “Could be she was down here for another reason and was a grab and dash.” The sheriff shrugged. “Yet another theory to test.” He glanced at Harvey and Olsen. “We could use some answers about how and why she was in Mississippi.”

  “I’ll fax that request to the number I’m supposed to forget.” Harvey groaned the words, and Olsen laughed into his coffee.

  The sheriff lifted an eyebrow and glanced at Gabriel. “How did you get involved in this?

  He shook his head. “I run Guardian Security. When this bastard first started his crimes years ago, a congressional delegation reached out to me to be their eyes and ears on the ground. The FBI had the jurisdiction, but I ran a parallel investigation and kept the congressional pundits from going insane. This guy hadn’t made the news, and the power brokers I dealt with were trying hard to keep it that way. The nation was still reeling from Bundy, Gacy and The Son of Sam. When you add in the fact that the FBI is still getting information from those bastards Lucas and Toole, the lawmakers didn't want to send the American public into panic mode.”

  The sheriff leaned forward, “Wait, six years ago?”

  “Yes.” He watched the man digest the information.

  “The FBI was getting credible information from Lucas and Toole six years ago? They'd been in custody for almost two years then, right?”

  “Something like that. Granted, they are helping the FBI close literally hundreds of cold case murders, but it makes me sick to know they can milk their crimes to stay off death row indefinitely. Anyway, for many reasons, the powers that be wanted to keep this bastard out of the press. Six years removed from the emotion of the case, if this guy went under the radar and stayed there, he’s extremely lucky.”

  The sheriff leaned forward and nailed him with a stare. “Or it means our killer is aware of the limitations of rural law enforcement and is exploiting those flaws.”

  He nodded. “A conclusion we share.” The sheriff may be serving as a county cop in backwoods Mississippi, but he was sharp. Damn sharp.

  “I assume you’ll be making calls to all outlying law enforcement in less populated areas to determine if this guy has actually been on a hiatus or if he’s surfaced here and there while making his way to New Orleans.”

  Gabriel narrowed his eyes as he leaned forward. “Sheriff King–”

  “Chance,” the man interrupted.

  “Chance. May I ask why you are a local sheriff in Sands County, Mississippi? Volume after volume of legal tomes on tort, evidential, contractual, and constitutional law, jam your bookshelves. This case file is arranged in the exact same fashion that the CIA uses right down to the same tabs and reference sheets. An asset with your training and knowledge is wasted here.”

  The man in question took a sip of his coffee and leaned back in his chair. A hint of a smile pulled at his lips before he answered. “This small, backwater town is a damn good place to raise a family.” He nodded to the pictures on the shelves. “As you can see, mine is extensive.”

  “But you aren’t from here, are you?”

  “No, my wife is. This is where she grew up, and this is where we will raise our family.”

  “How long were you with the Agency?”

  “Long enough. You?” the man countered.

  “About that long.” He rose and extended his business card. “If you ever decide you want to leave Mississippi, I’m looking for good men.”

  “I’m sorry, I’ve never heard of Guardian… that’s what you said the name was, correct?” The man glanced down at card in his hand.

  “Guardian Security. We operate primarily overseas, but Guardian has immediate plans to open a domestic operations division.”

  “Well, I’m not leaving Mississippi until I get these kids raised and on their own, but I’m more than willing to do any consulting or administrative groundwork you need done. This is assuming you could use an employee in a remote location such as this.”

  He studied the man for a long moment. “I can, actually. I’d like you to help me lay the groundwork for Guardian’s domestic branch. You passed the bar in…”

  “Virginia.”

  Bingo. The man was a gem, and if he was willing to work for Guardian, Gabriel was going to pounce. “Call that number and give them your mailing address and fax. When I finish this case, you and I are going to talk.”

  “I’m looking forward to it. Putting eight kids through college on a sheriff’s pay is impossible. However, we don't have a fax machine. Most folks here are on party lines—four to a line. Our dedicated line is one of three in the county. The local bank and the post office have the other two. To add another line solely for a fax machine—” he shrugged “—the cost would be beyond the county’s budget.”

  “I'll fund it, the fax machine and anything else you need to work for me. Will there be a problem with a conflict of interest?”

  “Nah, I'm an appointed position, and I twiddle my thumbs most days. This j
ob will always come first, so you might have to wait for me to get around to you.” His eyes held a twinkle of laughter. “If the last thirteen years are any indication, it wouldn’t be for too long.”

  “Those are terms I can deal with, Chance.” Gabriel extended his hand and his newest employee grasped it in a firm shake.

  “Eight kids?” Delacroix blinked from the photos on the shelf to King.

  “Five boys and three girls.” The man's face lit up with pride.

  He nodded to the shelves. “A fine-looking family”

  “Those kids and their mom are the reason I breathe.” Chance King swung his gaze to the pictures on the shelf.

  “Lucky.” Harvey acknowledged.

  “Damn lucky,” Olsen said before he planted a hand on Sheriff King’s shoulder. “Can we get a copy of the file?”

  “Yeah, I’m going to go across the street to the bank. They have a better copy machine. Ours will take hours, and I figure you gentlemen have better things to do than wait for copies.”

  “I'll get a new copy machine to you by the end of the week.” Gabriel opened his notebook and scribbled an annotation.

  “Can't say we won't use it for county business.” King put his hands on his hips. “Full disclosure, this county is dirt poor.”

  “I'll make sure logistics sends extra paper and toner. You take care of the county so you can take care of me. That's fair in my books.”

  “Mr. Gabriel, I think we will work well together.”

  “It's just Gabriel. I have a feeling we are going to do great things together, Chance.”

  He stepped out into the warmth of the day and leaned against the rail at the front of the squat building. He needed to run a background on former CIA agent, now county sheriff, Chance King, but he’d always trusted his gut, and his gut told him King was the genuine article. It would be such a fucking relief to have someone like King structuring the domestic arm for Guardian while he focused on the miasma of shit that swirled overseas.

  “You seem to be offering jobs like candy.” Agent Olsen leaned on the squat building. Harvey and Delacroix had accompanied King across the street to the bank.