Carolina Rain Page 13

  “We’ll do our best,” said Manny. “The others will be right in. They’re just finishing up a fast-food dinner.”

  “I’ve been there. That’ll give me a minute to get the rest of the folks in here that might give y’all some help.”

  Then the Captain strode through a side door that squeaked as it shuddered shut and was gone.

  Their host was average height, looked to be in good shape for a man in his fifties, and carried a sense of urgency that Manny immediately appreciated. His accent indicated he’d probably been in this area of North Carolina his whole life. That was good. Locals who were true locals almost always carried a special sense of protection for their community. That meant more attention to what was required to get the job done. That never hurt. But he found they could also be resistant to suggestions and proposals for action made by the BAU. That type of reaction was probably born from the sense that outsiders couldn’t possible know their people, their community better than they and their department. To top that off, it was always hard to believe someone in their town could be capable of the crimes being committed right underneath their collective noses. Manny liked that aspect about cops like Tanner and towns like Wilmington. A little faith in human nature and a sense of community could offset the dark side of what law enforcement sometimes saw as the norm. Manny was willing to concede a cop’s take may not be as the world really was . . . probably not, in fact. He guessed that would be a subject for a book or two, if he ever took the time to write one.

  Sitting down in one of the cushioned chairs, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the now disabled tracking device they’d found under the bumper of the SUV. His mind swam with strange possibilities ranging from conspiracy theories that would rival JFK’s horrific demise to something as simple as this vehicle being in the wrong place at the wrong time and perhaps the device was intended for another unit similar to theirs. If the answer were closer to the conspiracy side of the ledger, and the device was placed for the purpose of tracking them, then who wanted to know where they were and when? How would anyone, other than the people at the Columbia, South Carolina, office where the vehicles came from know which unit they would drive? Did one of the agents who delivered the SUVs to the Myrtle Beach airport have a reason to track them? And why? All that Quantico, or any other FBI Office, had to do was tap into the GPS devices inside any of the BAU’s smartphones to locate them. Manny felt a small, but vivid, alarm go off inside his head.

  There were only two possibilities; someone outside the Bureau wanted to know where they were, or some overzealous private dick had just lost a very expensive piece of equipment. Josh had already contacted the folks back in Virginia and they were in the process of running down the tracker’s serial number and would have some info in a few hours or by tomorrow regarding its original owner. He frowned. He suspected there’d be more questions. But they couldn’t waste any more time worrying about it. They had a killer to catch before anyone else died. Manny’s disquiet returned. She wasn’t going to stop, was she?

  Just then, Sophie, Josh, Dean, and Alex filed through the door. He glanced up as Sophie sat to his right, Josh to his left, and the two CSIs to the left of Josh. They were lined up across from the local’s side of the table. It was part of the training to make sure each agent got a good look at whomever they were meeting. Their position enabled more concise eye contact and body language interpretation. Studies showed those two areas led to better communication. In this realm—the world of cops and killers—proper communication was essential. They had a million meetings behind them to prove it.

  Josh leaned over. “Hey, Manny, do we look like trained seals or what?”

  “What? Speak for yourself.”

  Sophie stopped, looked towards Josh, back to the others, then threw her hands in the air. “I hate it when you’re right. We just need the beach ball and that little rack of horns to beep.”

  “Come on guys, procedure works, mostly,” said Dean. “I think lining up like this makes it look like we have our shit together, yes?”

  “Two months and you’re warped,” answered Josh, turning back to Manny. “Oh hey, I made another call. I don’t remember the unit having this many distractions during an investigation, including the murder of Garity and Max’s escape, so I’m passing off the tracking device to someone else. It’s probably nothing anyway.”

  “You might be right. Did you assign it to the Columbia office?” asked Manny.

  The side door swung open, and Captain Tanner entered the room followed by three others. Two women; one older, the other maybe in her mid-forties. They were trailed by a tall, good looking man, younger than anyone in the room.

  “We’ll talk later,” whispered Josh to Manny.

  The four locals sat down and Captain Tanner began to introduce his staff.

  “I want you to meet—”

  There was quick, loud rumbling of heavy feet as someone rushed up the first flight of stairs. Manny thought it a large someone by the sound of their approach. He looked at Tanner, who shrugged, and nine cops reached for their weapons . . . only they were too late.

  The huge, muscular man broke through the doorway like a runaway freight train, waving his hands and yelling, and then reached for Manny, pulling him clean out of his chair.

  CHAPTER-30

  “I’ve got to tell you, Chloe, this is the best Shepard’s Pie I’ve ever had,” said Jen Williams, stuffing another bite into her mouth before Chloe could answer.

  She couldn’t hold back the smile. If her mum, Haley Rose, had taught her anything, it was how to cook the traditional Irish dishes that travelers staying at their bed and breakfast in Galway wanted to experience. Shepard’s Pie had become her specialty. Over the years, the recipe had evolved some, a little more of this and a little less of that, but it wasn’t far from the one that had been in Chloe’s family for hundreds of years.

  “She’s right. I’m no connoisseur or anything, but this is damn good. And it tastes as good as it smells,” agreed Gavin Crosby, sitting to the left of Jen, scooping another helping on his plate, then another.

  “I’m glad ya like it. It’ll stick to your ribs and beats the heck out of all of that fast food and pizza crud you could be eating.”

  “Oh I still like my double-pepperoni-and-cheese pizza but I’d eat a lot less if I had this to choose from,” said Jen.

  “We’ll see what we can do about that.”

  She glanced back at her guest and then again at her step-daughter and felt a twinge of what mothers feel when the family was home and it was just them, the intimacy of conversation and subtle communications that was unique to only that family. Manny, Jen, and she had shared a few meals before they had been married and, in those rare instances, a whole new world had opened to her. She was looking forward to doing it as man and wife . . . and daughter.

  Her heart ached a little more. In their line of work, doing what they do, there was no guarantee that all of the BAU would return home safely, if at all. Alex and Manny were examples of that.

  Shaking off that line of thought, she buried it along with the uneasiness she’d experienced when Manny and the others had headed for North Carolina. Manny would tell her that it served no purpose. He was right, of course. Then again, he wasn’t home sitting on pins and needles.

  Having Gavin decide to stay with them for a night or two, and the two patrol cars sitting on the street, helped alleviate some of the worry about Manny and the others. They could talk because Gavin understood. Even though Chloe was an FBI special agent and could take care of herself and her family, it didn’t hurt to make sure Max Tucker’s profile wasn’t north of where everyone thought it should be. Talking with Gavin had helped. For the most part, she agreed with Manny’s assessment that Max wasn’t really after anyone other than Josh and Manny, at least at this point, but there was no reason to tempt fate. Max was a bright man and, in the end, who really knew what motivated the thinking of people infected with psychopathology like the one that had torn her old fri
end away from the world he’d once embraced.

  “You going to eat, missy?” asked Gavin, in that gravelly voice that was his own.

  Looking at her own plate, she realized she’d not really touched her food. She’d never really been able to eat when she was anxious, and being away from Manny—especially now—was all she needed to let her anxiety rule.

  “Yeah, I’ll get to it,” she said sighing. “It’s been an up and down couple of days. I just need to settle down.”

  “Well, you’re missing a damn fine meal,” said Gavin as he heaped on another helping.

  Jen laughed.

  “You two are funny. One of you can’t eat when you’re stressed and the other can’t stop.” Then she laughed again, causing Chloe and Gavin to join her. She loved how magical Jen’s laughter was. She seemed at peace with her situation and maybe, just maybe, she could teach Chloe a thing or two about that peace.

  Seeming to know what Chloe was thinking, Jen set her fork on the table and ran her fingers through her hair, brushing her long bangs from her face. Manny was right, she looked like Louise more and more, but there was that light in her eyes that she could have only gotten from her father. Fascinating and disconcerting at the same time.

  “I worry about him too, Chloe, more than I should, you know? And if something ever happened to him, I just might need a room in one of those crazy houses. When he was in that operating room thing, I didn’t think I’d be able to breathe. But I did. One breath at a time, just like he told us when stuff hits the fan. He and Mom taught me a couple of things about stressing over things you can’t control. I don’t always get it right. I’m trying, though. The big thing is to live for that moment. Worry is a waste. I believed them both. They wouldn’t lie to me. So, even though he’ll be the number one thing I’ll talk about with God tonight before I go to sleep, I can’t control what happens where he’s at. And you know Manny Williams, the Guardian of the Universe. He’ll do what he thinks is right and that ain’t going to change. So I’m going to enjoy your cooking, watch Titanic with you both, for about the fiftieth time, and go get the black-cherry ice cream.”

  Manny’s daughter got up and headed for the kitchen. Sampson, the huge black Lab who had been lying at Jen’s feet, chased after her.

  Chloe stared after Jen and then peeked at Gavin who had stopped eating, a sheepish feeling crossing her thoughts.

  “I just got a free life lesson that should be packaged up and sent to half of the world’s population.”

  “That’s two of us, sister. Tell me that apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Damn. Way too smart for her own good, especially given what she’s gone through over the last few years. Manny and Louise did good. I want to think like that when I grow up.”

  Emotion began to rise deep within Chloe’s throat as she realized how proud she was of Jen. The girl was right. How did one get to where this teenager was?

  Shaking her head, she patted Gavin’s hand. “Me too, Gavin Crosby, me too.”

  Returning with four bowls and a half-gallon of the best ice cream money could buy, Jen quickly scooped out four generous helpings.

  “Wait. There’s only three of us,” said Gavin, just as Sampson put his heavy head on Gavin’s lap, giving him a don’t mess up my dessert look.

  “Oh yeah, the spoiled one gets a bowl.”

  “Yep. Ice cream doesn’t hurt him and he’s got to stay big to keep me warm at night,” said Jen as she placed the bowl on the floor.

  The dog took one long lick, then raised his head, his ears standing straight up. Without hesitating, he rushed to the front window that led to the street, barking with a tone that could raise the dead.

  Chloe heard shouting on the front lawn. A second later, a shot rang out, then the lights flickered and failed, leaving them in darkness.

  CHAPTER-31

  The feeling of being snatched from his chair like a rag doll from a toy box was disconcerting. To think another human being could lift him, all two-hundred pounds of him, with that type of ease, left his internal security dashed on the floor. At first, Manny wondered if Argyle had been resurrected from the dead in some apocalyptic zombie figure that superseded any known laws of energy and physics. The smell of the huge man’s aftershave and the compelling, worry-free laugh that he’d first heard at El Yunque in San Juan, banished Manny’s active imagination.

  Braxton Smythe set him down on the floor, turned him around, and picked him up again, bringing Manny’s face even with the widest grin in the northern hemisphere.

  “Manny Williams! It be good to see you dis side of da spirit world.”

  “It’s good to be on this side of it, my friend. Now put me down so I can make sure these fine folks don’t fill you with good old Southern lead.”

  Braxton threw back his head and laughed even louder. “Just like you, mon, worrying about old Braxton.”

  The big man hugged him again and sat him down, still laughing.

  But Braxton wasn’t the only one. His friends in the BAU were greatly enjoying Braxton’s greeting. Captain Tanner’s crew, after realizing that the man mountain wasn’t there to tear off any heads, were appreciating the moment as well.

  “That’s a right friendly greeting,” said Captain Tanner.

  “We be friendly in da islands when we want to be,” said Braxton.

  “Good to know if I get to your neck of the woods,” said Tanner.

  “We’d love to have ya, mon. Bring lots of money.”

  The room rippled with laughter again and Manny felt the tension ease. That was always a positive thing because it made communication easier. Extremely important in cases like this.

  After greeting the rest of the BAU like long-lost kin, Braxton sat to Josh’s right. The chair was lost from sight, creaking in protest, but stayed firm as he stretched his legs, causing him to move away from the table.

  “So he was the other call you made?” he asked Josh.

  “Yes. Who better to work these other situations than an agent with the DEA who is also a US Marshal?”

  “Good point.”

  Josh looked toward Tanner’s group, pointing to the big man. “This is Braxton Smythe. He’s worked with the DEA, but he’s a US Marshal. We met him in San Juan while working a case. He’s here to help on one or two other situations we need to address so we can concentrate on your Aphrodite case.”

  “Fair enough. Let me introduce the lead detectives working this one,” said the captain.

  “This is Detective Ginny Krantz, Detective Ben Garcia, and CSU supervisor, Dana Boytin. They’ll be able to fill any gaps in the reports.”

  Manny looked at Ginny and noticed she wasn’t really looking at anything other than the coffee pots and ceramic cups sitting in the middle of the table. He knew one of the victims was her husband and it had only been a few days since he’d died. Strong or crazy? He guessed they’d find out shortly.

  Standing, Josh spoke again. “You’ve met Braxton. This is Special Agent Sophie Lee, our muscle and investigative agent. This is Dean Mikus and Alex Downs, our special agent CSIs, and Manny Williams, our certified spooky-like special agent profiler, and I’m Josh Corner. I’m in charge. At least, they let me think so.”

  The BAU stood and circled the table to shake hands, then returned to their chairs, except Manny. He held onto Ginny’s hand a little longer , looking into gray eyes that he was sure had seen more, especially in this case, than they’d bargained for. Much more.

  “Nice to meet you, Manny. I’ve heard a lot of good things about you. Your papers on profiling are some of the best I’ve read,” said Ginny, keeping a steady lock on his face.

  “That’s nice to know. I can guess who’s filling your head with stories.”

  “Really? I suppose you can. Gavin and I go way back and talk once in a blue moon or so. But that’s not what you really care to know, is it?”

  Smart woman.

  “You’re right, it’s not. Not now, anyway.”

  By then, they, and their conversation, were th
e focus of the others—and that’s how Manny wanted it. It was important to hear what Ginny had to say if she could muster the strength to be involved at this level. Working the case was out of the question—spouses didn’t get to investigate the murder of their wives or husbands. Yet it didn’t mean she couldn’t help by sharing her insight, and her pain. He couldn’t think of a better witness to interview, especially when the crime scene was fresh in her mind. But then again, as he thought about Louise dying in his living room, those types of memories were the ones that would only fade when the sun stopped rising.

  Licking her lips, Ginny searched his face. “You are a smart one, and you can’t hide that heart either. Listen, Manny and the rest of you too. I know what it takes to solve crimes like these and, as much as I hate my last memory of Carl to be what it is, I can’t change it. I can only hope that something I remember will end this carnage . . . and it is carnage. I’ll report what I know when my turn comes in this meeting. Maybe with tears, maybe not. Just know that I’ll do what’s necessary. Any questions?”

  The silence in the room answered her. She released Manny’s hand, kissed him on the cheek, and sat down.

  Strong or crazy?

  His vote went toward strong. Crazy didn’t carry that kind of character; it never would. He returned to his seat, opened up his briefcase, pulled out the files he’d brought from the hospital, and waited.

  Reaching into his own steel case, Josh brought out a stack of papers, and two dark green files stamped FBI Restricted Content.

  “We’ll get this part out of the way first.” Josh handed the paperwork to Braxton.

  Scanning the files and paperwork, Braxton was suddenly serious. “Okay. Let me know what’s goin’ on,” he said.

  “They’re pretty self-explanatory, but I’ll give you the skinny. The first file and most of the paperwork is in regard to Michael Garity. After two weeks, we’ve got nothing solid on his killer. We’ve got another team working it and I gave you the contact information so you can find out where they’re at. Plus, there’s an extra forensics team inside the Charlotte office. This is a tough one. Manny has a few ideas, and those are written in the file as well. We’re not sure of anything, other than a possible link to Max Tucker, and I told you about Max on the phone. What you see is what you get. It’s not so rare for murders to go unsolved, even when the Bureau’s involved, but this one has to be figured out. Maybe your eyes and resources can get something else going?”