Gone Unnoticed: A Kate Reid Novel (The Kate Reid Series Book 3) (8 page)

Gregor stepped inside while Kate slipped into the front passenger seat.

“Well, I’m not sure how we’re supposed to find this bar if the guy can’t give us directions,” Nick said, shutting his door and turning the key to the ignition.

Kate turned back to Gregor and then pointed straight. He nodded. After several of these same gestures, they reached the bar, which had only been a couple of blocks away.

Nick pulled into the parking lot and it appeared as though the place wasn’t even open. “Now what?”

“Up.” Gregor pointed to the staircase that led to a door at the top, just above the bar.

Nick got out and opened the rear passenger door.

Gregor followed and cast a cautious glance at Nick. He began to walk up the stairs alone and knocked on the door. They waited at the bottom, leaning against the car.

“Why do I get the feeling that this guy understands more English than he’s letting on?” Nick asked.

The door opened and a man of similar build and age stepped just into view. The two began talking and, after a moment, the occupant looked down at Nick, then returned his attention to his cousin.

The two finally began to descend the stairs and Nick moved towards Kate. “All right. Let’s see what this guy knows.”

The man next to Gregor tossed his cigarette to the ground and thrust his hands inside the front pockets of his jeans. They continued to move towards the agents.

Nick immediately cast his eyes to the man, whose hands were now out of view. His stance firmed and he placed a hand on his revolver. “You speak English?”

“Yes,” the man replied. He must have sensed Nick’s alarm and slowly pulled his hands back out of his pockets and held them palms up to show the FBI man that he was unarmed.

“I’m Special Agent Nick Scarborough. This is Special Agent Trainee Kate Reid. Your cousin here said you might know something about what was happening at the house on his street.”

The man eyed Kate up and down. “You’re training to be an FBI agent?” he asked her.

“Yes, sir.”

He nodded his head and returned his attention to Nick. “Greg says you found some dead bodies there or something?” The man didn’t have an accent.

“Yes. Two female victims. If you don’t mind, can I ask your name?”

“Julian Petrovich.”

“You’re from Croatia as well?” Kate asked.

“My parents are. I was born here. Greg’s my cousin. His family moved here about two years ago. But Greg hasn’t had much interest in learning English, so his sister translates a lot for him.”

“We met her. Nicola?” Nick said.

“Yes. So Greg told you I talked to those guys who were living at that house.”

“Did they live there?” Nick asked.

“Well, not exactly. I mean, it wasn’t like they were paying rent or anything. That house has been abandoned for years and the city won’t do nothing about it. Anyway, these guys came in asking where they could find companionship. Said they were hanging out at that house and wanted a taste of the local talent.”

“It seems there are quite a few Croatians living here. Did they specifically ask for a Croatian companion?” Nick asked.

Greg started speaking to his cousin. Julian shook his head and continued, “There’s a mix here. Croatians, Serbians, Hungarians, Romanians. They’re all here, but don’t hang around one another. In fact, they do the best they can to stay as far away from each other as possible.”

“And yet, they all live in this community?” Kate asked.

“Yeah, go figure. Anyway, these guys were looking for pretty much any woman from Eastern Europe. I don’t know. I guess that was their thing, but I told them where they could find the kind of women who wanted to be paid for their services.”

“Do you think if I showed you a picture that you might recognize them?”

“Sure. I don’t see why not. They both came in a couple of times. I remember them.”

“So it was just two men?” Nick asked.

“Just two that came into the bar. Don’t know if they had friends at the house or whatever.”

Nick leaned into the car and pulled out the photo of James Corbett and the composite sketch they’d received from Ms. Sala’s description. “These guys look familiar to you?”

Julian took hold of the pictures and examined them for a moment. “I recognize this guy for sure.” He was holding up Corbett’s picture. “This one could be the guy he was with. It’s hard to say based on this drawing. He’s bald, so it’s possible this could be him.”

They still had no identification on the man in the composite, but it appeared they were dealing with the same person.

“I don’t suppose they ever gave you names?” Nick asked, concerned Corbett had been operating under an alias and hoping they could get some indication of who his partner was.

“No, I didn’t ask either. Not my business.” Julian went quiet for a moment. “Did they kill those girls in the house?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out. You’ve been a big help. Would you mind if Detective Garrett with Richmond PD stopped by to ask you a few more questions?”

Julian looked at his cousin. “Um, yeah, I guess that’d be okay. I can give Greg a lift home.”

“Thank you, Mr. Petrovich and thank you, Gregor,” Kate replied.

They got back inside the car and pulled out of the parking lot. Kate looked back at the men through the side view mirror. “What’s the deal with the local cops here?”

“No idea. Clearly, there are some issues. We need to stop at the station and inform Garrett of what we’ve got.”

» » »

Madlena sat on the edge of the bed in the silky robe given to her by the man who now owned her, for a specified length of time, although she was not privy to that information and had no idea how long she would be here. It was better than the derelict houses she’d been held captive for the past several days. Here, a hot shower, clean clothes, and comfortable bed were being offered, but for a high price. Mild sedatives and heroin still coursed through her veins, and it was now much too difficult to decipher the day or time, only that she looked through a foggy lens. Perhaps it was better that way. Dulled senses and hazy memory kept her from fully realizing the horror she was living.

Her sale had come by way of an auction where she’d been examined by several men. She was forced to stand, half-naked in front of them, and they leered at her slender figure. Now she knew what had happened to the other girls, and since none had returned while she was there, Madlena likened this viewing to a death knell.

After the bidding ended, she was then placed onto a small plane that brought her to this place now. The man who paid for her seemed like just another John and she did what he asked. But now he kept her in a hidden room. No windows, but plenty of devices by which he used to bring her pain. Her body was worn, bruised, and swollen.

Madlena began to think of her family. Her sister would probably be in school right now, something her father would have insisted upon even as Madlena remained missing, if only to keep the child from worry.

The sound of a latch releasing caught her attention. He was coming.

EIGHT

A
phone call
from Detective Moreno with Metro Police during the drive back from Richmond brought unwelcomed news. After the day’s long effort working with the local police and playing the go-between with Moreno and Garrett, the call was just fetid icing on top of a bad cake.

Moreno was following a lead on a tip regarding the location of James Corbett, but it failed to turn up anything and so the man for whom a BOLO had already been issued still evaded them.

“What about the composite sketch from Ruxandra Sala? Any idea who that guy is? We know he’s partners with Corbett. The bartender confirmed as much,” Nick said to the detective.

“Not yet. I ran it through our recognition software, but there was no match.” His voice sounded through the car speakers. “I was hoping you guys could run it through your databases.”

“We’ll be back in the office soon. I’ll have Agent Jameson get it into the national database and see what we come up with. If we can find out who this guy is, it might bring us closer to finding Corbett. We’ll be in touch. Thank you, detective.” Nick pressed the end call button on his steering wheel.

» » »

The time on his cell phone showed three p.m. The bar would be opening soon. Julian took the final bite of his sandwich and locked up his apartment. The commute wasn’t bad, just a walk down the stairs and he was inside the bar. He flipped the light switch and a soft buzz filled the room. The sound came from fluorescent lights with green glass shades that hung over the pool tables.

The stools had been upturned onto the bar top and Julian returned them to the floor, but not before a quick wipe with his dishcloth. The bar was blessed with being the only one inside a mile radius of the tight-knit community and so, while it lacked a certain quality that would find it ranking low on Zagat’s list, it was always packed with hardworking people, mostly of eastern European lineage. Julian’s father had retired and now, after twenty years, it was his turn to run the place.

With his back turned, organizing the bottles of liquor placed strategically on the shelves, Julian noticed a sliver of light bouncing off the mirror behind the wall of booze. It was the front door and someone was opening it.

“We’re not open yet. I’ll need a few more minutes, please.” He set a bottle of gin down and began to turn around. The light from the opened door cast shadows on the rest of bar and the identity of the visitor remained in disguise. As the person’s steps drew near, Julian smiled as the shadows finally revealed his guest. “Oh. It’s you. What are you doing here?”

“Trebali su držali jezik za zubima, Julian.”
You should have kept your mouth shut, Julian.

“Toma, wait!” He raised his hand to shield him from the gun that was now pointing at his head. “What did I do? What did I do?” His face masked in fear, the words stumbled from his lips as he looked through the spread fingers of his hand. The automatic defense mechanism would do little to stop the bullet from piercing his skull. A moment was all he had to understand why this was happening. And then it came to him.
Gregor.

The gun fired point blank at Julian’s head and he crumpled to the floor behind the bar. Blood and brain matter sprayed onto the bottles behind him. The massive bullet ripped through his head and carried on through to the mirrored wall, shattering the glass and bottles until they fell on top of the now lifeless Julian Petrovich.

Toma, a square-shaped man with ham hands and a face wrecked by tattoos, looked over the counter to ensure that his victim was not moving. “No policija, no FBI.” He retrieved the dishcloth that rested on the counter and wiped the few spatters of blood that landed on him. Turning away, he headed to the entrance again. The door had remained open and he wondered for a moment if anyone had heard the gunfire. Then he figured, if anyone had, there would be no calls to the police. No one around here trusted them. Toma flipped off the lights and closed the door on his way out.

» » »

The CCTV monitors displayed the action on the streets of Hogan’s Alley as the tactical training operation was about to begin. Agents responsible for coordinating the drills watched the screens and gave out orders to the actors. Kate was behind the scenes, watching the raid unfold.

Supervisory Special Agent Hawes stood next to her and began pointing to one of the screens. “This is where you seem to have the problem.” The NATs involved in the drill were quickly assessing the situation and putting to use some of the techniques they’d learned. “When you get to this point,” he continued, “your reactions are not adequate to the situation. You are too hesitant.” Hawes turned to her. “Hesitation kills, Reid.”

While she was hanging onto his every word, a disruption came by way of a call on her phone.
Damn it.
Agent Scarborough’s name popped onto the screen. “Sir, it’s Agent Scarborough. May I take this?”

The look on Hawes’ face suggested Kate was pushing her luck, but he nodded anyway. “Thank you, sir.” She stepped outside the surveillance room into the bright corridor. “Reid here.”

“That kid from the bar the other day?” Nick wasted no time.

“Gregor?”

“No. His cousin, Petrovich.”

“Yeah.”

“Shot in the head. A couple of patrons found him behind the bar about an hour ago. Detective Garrett wants us to head back down ASAP.”

“Oh my God.” Kate glanced to the closed door behind her. “I’m right in the middle of training. Can I…”

“Let Hawes know what’s going on. He’ll let you leave. Meet me at the WFO in an hour.” Nick ended the call.

Kate returned her phone to her pocket and stepped back inside the room. Agent Hawes looked at her as if he already knew what she was about to ask.

“Scarborough needs you?”

“One of the men we spoke to the other day has just been killed. Agent Scarborough wants us to get back to Richmond.”

Hawes returned to view the monitors and waved an arm at Kate. “Go on, then.”

» » »

Nick was talking on his cell and pulling on his coat when Kate arrived at the field office. She spotted him and followed him along the hall. His pace was quick and she had to jog to keep up with him.

Agent Jameson approached from one of the conference rooms. “You heard what happened?” he asked Kate.

“Yeah. Agent Scarborough asked me to come down. We’re heading back to Richmond. You coming?”

“Right behind you.”

Nick turned to the two of them. “That was Detective Garrett. His people are at the scene now.”

“Do they have any idea who might have killed Petrovich?” Jameson asked.

“No one’s talking.” He glanced at Kate. “You ready to go?”

She nodded. “Have they checked for surveillance footage yet?”

“The bar’s security cameras were disabled. He’s got his team checking any other cameras in the area. Someone found out that we talked to the guy. I’ve already asked Garrett to check on Bjuric; make sure he and his family are okay.”

“What about the little girl?” Kate asked.

“Don’t know yet. We’ll find out when we get there.”

» » »

The hole-in-the-wall neighborhood bar was gaining attention from the people in the nearby shops and local markets. And the later it got, the larger the crowd became. Most were probably on their way home from work and either frequented the bar or lived nearby.

Just as Nick pulled on scene, a local news truck followed right behind them. The three got out of the SUV and approached Detective Garrett, who stood outside talking to a member of his team.

“I’ll let you handle that.” Nick pointed a thumbs-up in the direction of the news van.

“I don’t want them to know the FBI is here. Why don’t you guys go inside? I’ll take care of this.”

As soon as the three crossed over the police tape, one of the local officers immediately approached. “You can’t be in here.”

Nick figured the guy was protecting his territory and understood that, but he pulled out his badge to make his own assertions. “Special Agent Nick Scarborough, FBI. Detective Garrett asked us to come inside while he deals with the media. He’s out there, if you want to ask him.”

The officer stared at Nick’s badge, then glanced at Kate and Dwight. “These two with you?”

He nodded.

“Okay. What do you need to know?”

“Has the victim already been taken by the coroner?” Nick took the lead and headed towards the bar area.

“About an hour ago. Clean shot to the head. It was a large caliber semi-automatic pistol. Ballistics has the bullet and casing now. Looks like it was a .50 caliber Dezzy.”

“Jesus,” Jameson replied.

Kate wasn’t familiar with the nickname, but assumed because of the large caliber size, the gun was intended to make a statement.

Nick eyed the hole in the back of the bar. “So, we’re talking wanna-be gangster?” Nick asked.

“Wanna-be or
is
a crime boss, would be my guess.” Detective Garrett walked inside and approached the agents.

Nick turned around. “Like maybe in the upper echelon of a trafficking ring?”

“Maybe.”

“What about Bjuric? Is his family safe?” Kate asked.

“We found the young girl and the mother, but not the brothers.” Garrett replied. “I can only hope they went into hiding and aren’t already dead. Something like this is going to spread around the community fast. If those boys aren’t lying low yet, they will be soon.”

“I’d like to have my team run background checks on Petrovich’s family and Bjuric’s too. Also, Petrovich identified James Corbett, but we still don’t have a name for his cohort. We didn’t get any hits from our database either. What about any other video from these cameras?” Nick glanced at one camera tucked away in the far corner above the bar. “If they were disabled, that means they were operating at one time or another. Anyone search Petrovich’s home yet?”

“My guys are up there now.”

Nick surveyed the bar. “Assuming this location, this community, is the hub of the operation, and I’m beginning to suspect that it is, why would Corbett and his partner have come here asking about the local talent? Wouldn’t they have already known? There’s no question in my mind that whoever killed Petrovich is linked with these guys—and that he’s local.” Nick turned to Garrett. “Why would they tell Petrovich anything or ask him any questions that might lead someone to believe they were looking for a particular type of girl?”

“Maybe they were recruiting?” Garrett replied.

The detective might have been onto something, Kate thought. But perhaps recruitment on a different level. “Julian Petrovich probably overheard a lot of interesting conversations,” she began, “and was probably aware of any new people coming in or had at least been made aware of the happenings in the neighborhood. Maybe these guys were looking to recruit him? Have him help scope out the targets?”

» » »

“Što vam je rekao? Petrovich?”
What did Petrovich tell you?

Gregor’s hands were bound and his face bloodied. He recognized his surroundings because he’d been in this diner many times before, but never in this position; sitting on a metal folding chair inside the storage room where they kept the canned goods and condiments. “Ništa, kunem se.”
Nothing, I swear.
His cousin Julian had told him nothing except what he said to the FBI. He didn’t think Julian had anything to tell. None of this was supposed to be happening. He was going to be killed for opening his mouth. Why hadn’t his brother stopped him? Why hadn’t he told him? Now it would be up to Toma to decide if he was to live or die and only his brother could save him now.

“I don’t think he knows anything. If he does, he won’t be talking to the FBI or the police anytime soon. I’ll keep him close to me, Toma. He doesn’t need to end up like Julian.”

“If it hadn’t been for Gregor, Julian would still be alive. That kid didn’t deserve to die for your fuckup.” Toma looked at Gregor. “Now I’m just supposed to let you go? You think my boss is going to be okay with that?”

A tear fell from Gregor’s eye. “No.” His voice sounded scratchy from a dry throat.

“There were cameras in the bar. Were they recording?” The man who was speaking was scarcely older than Gregor himself.

“No,” Toma began. “They weren’t working, at least not when I walked in. I checked.” He leaned against one of the steel shelving units. “Kovac wants another three for him by the end of the week. Can you do that?”

The young man, wearing an oversized basketball jersey of the Charlotte Bobcats, looked to Gregor, wiping his brother’s blood from his knuckles. “What about him?”