Jae's Assignment (23 page)

Trevor
. His name floated through her mind.

As hard as it was for her to do, Jae carefully switched arms by shifting her weight and dropping her left arm to get the blood moving. Then she moved her legs, slowly at first then increasing the momentum. With her right arm now stronger, she was able to maintain a grip on the steel frame under the driver’s seat while she swung her leg up to the concrete until she was able to pull herself up.

She immediately collapsed in a heap on the ground, happy to lie there until the numbing pain in her arms subsided and her pounding heart slowed to a normal rhythm again.

When she was finally able to stand, she gingerly walked around the car so close to the gap in the wall and opened the passenger side door. Carefully opening the door she eased in and now staring face to face with the dead man, his open eyes staring a hole through her. She reached under the driver’s seat and pulled out the gun. Using his jacket, she wiped his blood from the barrel of the gun before setting it on the dashboard.

She patted his clothing and checked his pockets looking for the cell phone. “Where is it, you shit bag?” she hissed. She spotted his smart phone wedged between the center console and the driver’s seat. Just as she grasped the blood-covered phone, it vibrated in her hand.

Wiping blood from the lighted screen across the shirt of the dead man, Jae stared down at the word
Private
on the screen. She guessed the ringleader was calling his goon to see if he had completed his task of killing her.

Backing out of the car, Jae noticed the smart phone was exactly like her expensive, agency-issued phone before dropping it, unanswered, into her jacket pocket. She also holstered the gun. With a renewed sense of urgency, she grabbed the two travel bags plus her satchel from the backseat of the sedan and hurried up the ramp and over to her Mustang.

Digging her hand into the back pocket of her jeans for her car key, Jae was seconds from sticking the key in and opening the door when she remembered the younger man who had been crouched down by her car.

She stopped and after dropping the bags to the ground, she lowered herself on her back and carefully inched underneath her car.

She was looking for an explosive device.

And damn if she didn’t find one.

Chapter Eighteen

Luke hung up the telephone as the family of five looked on.

He was surprised they had been so hospitable to him, considering he was one horrifying sight. But the couple who had introduced themselves as Jude and Betty were quite prepared for intruders when they opened the front door. He’d been met with a double-barrel shotgun aimed at his chest. The gun remained within arm’s reach on the kitchen table.

“Did you reach your buddies?” Jude asked.

“Not really. That was a lady friend,” Luke said. “She’s on her way. She should be here within the hour, but she has to make a stop first. Look, folks, I don’t want to impose on you any longer,” Luke said, lifting himself from a kitchen wall where he’d been leaning, not wanting to sit on his bullet wound. “I’ll go outside and wait for her on the porch.”

“You’re not imposing, Mr. Grainger. You’ve been injured. Stay inside until your friend arrives,” Betty said, shooing her giggling preteen daughters and curious ten-year-old son from the kitchen.

Luke didn’t argue. The forty-something couple had been very helpful, giving him the items he’d asked for to clean and bandage his wound. Jude also gave him a clean T-shirt and sweat pants to wear. He had told them that he’d been carjacked at gunpoint and shot trying to escape.

As Betty set a plate of food containing chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, and corn before him, Jude filled his coffee cup. As he ate, Luke thought about his situation. He always believed that Randy Cross had the capacity to harm without blinking. And yet, he’d never thought the man was a stone-cold killer. He now knew Randy was a sociopath who had effectively fooled every psych evaluation since joining the FBI.

Shaking his head, Luke marveled at how masterfully Randy had hidden his true self from all of them for so long. In the back of his mind, Luke believed that only Jae had seen Randy’s demented side. She had included that in her report following the shooting of the two young men at the bank and the hostage. If only he’d believed her.

* * * * *

Darius, McGuire, and Iverson arrived at the Pentford Institute at one thirty in the afternoon. Mike and Amil went to check out Jae’s car, which had been found in a parking lot. After producing an ID badge, Darius requested to see the supervisor responsible for managing security operations at the institute. He then explained he needed to speak with the guard who was manning the security booth on the date and time Dr. Holmes left.

Ten minutes later, they sat in a small conference room waiting for the security guard in question, a Ms. Rita West.

“So, what was your impression of her, Iverson?” McGuire asked.

“Ms. West likes Motown oldies and she is smoking hot,” Iverson said, chuckling. “And if she wasn’t African American, I would swear she was Jeanie Walker.”

McGuire rolled his eyes and dropped his head. “Man, don’t mention Jeanie to me.”

Darius had been flipping through his file on the conference room table and chuckled at McGuire’s comment. “Hey, leave Jeanie alone. She’s sweet. She’s just not sports savvy.”

The three men stopped and stood when Rita West entered the room. Flipping out his ID badge, Darius introduced himself then Iverson and McGuire did the same. “Ms. West, please have a seat. We have a few questions for you. We’re investigating one of the doctors who worked here at the institute,” Darius said.

Rita’s eyes widened. “Well, out with it. Who did what and what do y’all need to know because I know lots of shenanigans are going on in this place.” Darius spent the next few minutes outlining why they were there. Her eyes widened in shock when Darius mentioned the car explosion. They were still investigating the cause of the explosion and wondered if she could tell them anything that seemed suspicious.

“All that was left of the car was the license plate but, Ms. West, that presents a problem for us.” Darius pulled out a plastic evidence bag containing a burned license plate. “This license plate belongs to a car owned by a grocery store clerk. He reported the car stolen from the parking lot the night before Dr. Holmes’s car exploded on Tuesday night.”

Rita gasped. “Oh, no, that can’t be right.”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. Dr. Holmes was killed in that explosion. He was identified by a medical alert bracelet he’d been wearing. I need to find out everything that occurred leading up to the night he died,” Darius said, quietly.

“I know all the doctors,” Rita said, glancing at the license plate. “The last time I saw Dr. Otis was when I opened the gate for him. It was around nine o’clock Tuesday night when he drove his Cadillac through the gate.”

Darius and McGuire exchanged a look. According to MVA Holmes did drive an older model Cadillac, but the car that he died in was a later model vehicle. Darius had also obtained a copy of Ms. West’s electronic log sheet that verified the time she had swiped Holmes’s parking pass. “And you’re sure he was driving his own car Tuesday night?”

“I’m positive,” Rita said quietly.

“Was there anything unusual about him that night?” Iverson asked.

“Not really. He was his usual self, pleasant. He was an old sweetie pie and that’s what I called him.”

Darius stood and assisted Rita from her seat and thanked her for her time. Darius returned to his seat. “Somebody blew up the good doctor, but why?”

“And minutes after leaving the institute, he switched cars,” McGuire said.

Hearing running footsteps coming in their direction the three men stared at the door.

Not bothering to knock, Rita ran back into the office as the three agents shot up from their seats. Addressing Iverson, she said, “Something you asked just triggered a thought.”

“What was it, Ms. West?”

“You asked if there was anything unusual about Dr. Otis that night. Well, it wasn’t him that was unusual. It was his passenger. The patient who was in the backseat…there was just something off about him. I told Dr. Otis that too, asked if the man was okay.”

“Was that unusual for Dr. Holmes to transport a patient?” McGuire asked.

“Well, no, not really. You see, he’d often take their patients, research patients, on what he called field trips. Where they’d go I just couldn’t say. But that night, he told me the patient was being transferred to the Park Sanitarium for the special care he needed.”

“Okay, so what was it about the patient that triggered something for you, Ms. West?”

“Well, he didn’t look so much like the others who all had military haircuts and serviceman-type clothing. This patient had on institution pajamas. Now, unless they’re going to the hospital in an ambulance, patients are always dressed in street clothes. So, I thought, Dr. Otis must’ve had to get him out of here in a hurry. But here’s the kicker. He had on sunglasses and it was nighttime. But, you know, I’d swear his eyes were open and he was watching me. You see, I was dancing and cutting up a bit in the booth,” she explained. “It makes my shift breeze by.”

“Describe the patient to us, Ms. West.” After listening to her description with a sinking feeling in his stomach, Darius opened his file folder and pulled out a photo of Grainger. He passed it to her and watched as she studied the picture for several seconds.

“Can you pass me a pen, please?” Rita asked, pointing to an ink pen on the table.

Darius glanced down when she slid the photo around. She lengthened the hair to below his ears, drew on a pair of sunglasses, and shadowed the face with a beard.

“Who is this man?” Rita asked.

“He’s someone very important, Ms. West,” Darius said.

Pushing her seat back, Rita shot up. “Well, come on out to my booth. There’s a camera mounted at an angle that snaps a picture of cars leaving the gate. I’m pretty sure Dr. Otis and I talked long enough to get a couple snapshots that just might include a shot of the patient. Let’s hurry before operations pulls the tape for archiving. They do that every few days,” she said.

“Lead the way,” Darius said, as he, Iverson, and McGuire scrambled to catch up with Ms. West, who was already several steps ahead of them.

* * * * *

Jae was on I-95 following the GPS coordinates on the smart phone to take her to the facility where the men must have taken Trevor. She didn’t consider calling Darius or any of the guys because they were already looking for her and she’d made sure to leave them clues.

Glancing in the backseat she saw an empty pet carrier and baby car seat. It was just two of the items in the car that let her know it was a family car she’d stolen from the third level of the parking garage. It had been easy to steal because the owner hadn’t closed the hatchback.

Jae let the GPS on the smart phone guide her as she drove at a steady, yet safe speed. She allowed her mind to drift back to Trevor tapping on her door, then the two of them walking to the elevator in silence. But uppermost in her mind was his scathing question.
You don’t go out with your assignments, much less White men. Instead, you just kiss them passionately and have sex with them, right?

When he had uttered those words against her lips, Jae’s instinct had been to recoil in hurt and anger. Her right hand itched to slap his smug face and seeing his shock would have been her reward.
Bastard! How dare he say that crap to me
, she thought, reluctantly knowing that Trevor hadn’t said anything that wasn’t technically true. Yes, she had kissed him and yes, she had certainly screwed him with passion beyond anything she had ever felt. The thought sent a flush of warmth surging through her.

When he’d tried talking to her, Jae kept him focused on the matter at hand, their safety. At the moment, that was all she could focus on. She didn’t want to hear him say what he couldn’t offer her or say that their time together was short-lived.

For all of her “I don’t date White men” speech, Jae cringed when Trevor’s words resonated in her head. She had gone way, way beyond dating. She’d let her attraction for Trevor cloud her judgment and had given into a force so irresistible, powerful, and incredibly hot, that now her own team was searching for her to press charges. And yet, there she was doing whatever it took to protect Trevor yet again.

Had they made it to her Mustang and not encountered those goons from hell, she would have apologized to Trevor for being such a hypocrite.

She visualized his handsome face, so full of concern when he stepped into the shower to comfort her. But she transformed a tender moment into a sensual one. He was being compassionate for whatever she was feeling. She, on the other hand, turned it into another erotic romp, in the shower and then in the bed.

Suddenly assailed by a heartache so strong, Jae gripped the Bugs Bunny cover that fitted tightly over the steering wheel and she let out an anguished groan. She hadn’t meant to sound like a selfish, self-serving black widow spider, ready to strike out after mating, but she’d bet that’s exactly how Trevor saw her.

When the GPS on the smart phone announced that she had reached her destination, it jerked Jae out of her reverie and she looked around in surprise at where she was.

Making a right turn and pulling the car to the curb, she looked out the passenger window to see that she was at the Pentford Institute, located near a military base. She was somewhat familiar with the institute and knew her chances of getting inside were bad considering how closely the facility was guarded. Opening her bag, she pulled out her binoculars and surveyed the two security booths.

In the nearest booth she saw a buxom forty-something Black woman with long black hair. Next, she panned the eight-foot-high security fence surrounding the entire complex.

Just inside the main building, there was a large reception area. A security guard was there. Jae watched as staff members swiped a badge, bypassing the security reception desk after entering the building’s main entrance.

Lowering the binoculars Jae counted the buildings. There were four in all and she had no way of knowing which building Trevor would have been taken to.

When the smart phone vibrated again, the word
Private
lit up the screen. Jae would have ignored it, except this time a red light flashed indicating a message had been left. Pressing the message button, she breathed a sigh of relief when it didn’t require a PIN number to play the message.

“Report in and return to 404. I want an update on the disposal of the package.”

Jae frowned as the message ended. Although the voice was clipped, it sounded vaguely familiar, but she didn’t waste precious time thinking about it. Instead, she called directory assistance for the telephone number of the facility. When she was connected she asked to be transferred to 404. She had no idea if 404 was a building number or room number. Listening closely, the automated system announced the call was being transferred to workstation 4 of the Kenyon Building.

Before the call was picked up, Jae pressed the disconnect button and lifted the binoculars again. Scanning the small brass signs mounted on the buildings near the main entrance, she saw the last building of the complex was the Kenyon Building. Now she just had to figure out a way to get in and extract Trevor.

It was minutes before three o’clock in the afternoon as she watched groups of staff members, dressed in medical scrubs and white lab coats, entering and exiting the last two buildings. She would guess it was shift change.

Noticing a brother in blue scrubs and a starched white lab coat, Jae brightened. He exited the parking lot and drove past her before suddenly pulling his shaking car over to the curb with his emergency flashers on.

Lowering the window, Jae listened to the familiar clicking as he tried unsuccessfully to restart the car.
Dead battery, huh? Well, I guess that’s my way in
. Using her hands to smooth her hair back and refastening it into a curly ponytail, then popping a breath mint into her mouth, Jae pulled up alongside the doctor as he stood cursing at his engine.

“Hello. I met you in orientation, but your name escapes me,” she said, smiling.

“Hi, it’s Darryl,” he said.

“Oh, that’s right. I’ve met so many people this past week it’s hard to keep up,” she said, getting out of the car and smoothing her button-down shirt.