No Good Deed, page 18
part #2 of Lancaster & Daniels Series
“You are something else.”
“My turn. Last night, you told me that your boss told you to take me off the case, and that we couldn’t talk anymore. What changed?”
“Nothing changed. I just had to call you.”
“I hope it doesn’t lead to trouble.”
There was real compassion in his voice, and she realized that he meant it. That was the thing about Jon; she could dress him down, call him terrible names, and it didn’t seem to diminish his feelings toward her.
“Nor do I,” she said.
She heard a click, indicating another call had come in. She pulled her cell phone away from her face and stared at the screen. It was Karen McDonald calling, perhaps with an update on J. T.’s condition. Bringing the phone back to her face, she said, “I’ve got another call from a colleague. I’ll call you later. Please try and stay out of trouble.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
She disconnected and picked up Karen’s call.
“Hey, Karen. Any news?”
“The hospital just released a statement,” her colleague said. “There’s good news and bad news. The good news is that J. T.’s a strong son of a bitch, and is going to live. The bad news is, the stroke occurred on the left side of his brain, so the right side of his body was affected. He has partial paralysis and can’t speak. With therapy, the doctors think he’s going to be okay, but it’s going to take time.”
Daniels realized she was crying. Wiping away the tears, she said, “J. T. not able to speak? I can’t imagine that.”
“You and me both.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Keep praying. I’ll call you with any updates.”
“I will. Thanks, Karen.”
Ending the call, she went into the bathroom and washed her face. J. T. wasn’t the easiest boss, and had always pressed her to do better. But he’d always had her back, and like a safety net, he had been there to catch her when she’d screwed up.
She thought back to their last conversation. J. T. had flown to Tampa for the express purpose of telling her to pull Jon off the case. In hindsight, she realized how unusual that was. When an FBI director issued an order, it was done in memo form, which was emailed to the agent, with a copy put in the agent’s file. That way, if the agent did not comply, there was documented evidence that could lead to the agent being punished or dismissed.
But J. T. hadn’t sent a memo. Or had he? She got dozens of emails a day, and there was the chance that J. T.’s memo had escaped her notice. She needed to check, so she got on her laptop and loaded her email, where she found sixty-five messages waiting in her inbox.
She read every single one. None were from J. T. There was no evidence of him telling her to pull Jon off the case. It was like it had never happened. And with J. T. now in the hospital, unable to speak, she could safely say that it hadn’t happened. Everything was status quo.
She wanted to call Jon back, and relay the good news. But before she did that, there was the matter of the agent on her team who’d betrayed her. She’d never had a knife stuck in her back before, and it hurt like hell.
Her team was buried in work when she entered the basement conference room. A box of freshly baked Dunkin’ Donuts sat on the table, and she peeked inside. They had saved her one. She didn’t believe in beating around the bush, and she crossed her arms and told everyone to stop what they were doing. Closing their laptops, they turned in their swivel chairs to face her.
“As you’ve probably heard, J. T. suffered a stroke and is in the hospital,” she said. “The word from the doctors is he’s going to survive, but his recovery will be slow. Please say a prayer for his speedy recovery.
“Last night, I learned that one of you went behind my back, and contacted J. T. in order to voice your displeasure over the fact that Jon Lancaster was brought into the investigation. I have a problem with that, and I’m going to explain to you why.
“I don’t expect for you to agree with every decision I make, but I do expect you to respect my decisions, nonetheless. If you think I’ve done something wrong, I expect you to come directly to me. Not doing that is a betrayal.
“I handpicked each one of you to be on my team, and would like to believe that I’ve been a pretty good boss. One of you obviously feels otherwise.
“I want to know who did this. I can find out one of two ways. I can confiscate your cell phones and laptops, do a search, and see which one of you contacted J. T. I personally find this approach distasteful, because it means that I have to look at everyone’s communications, and I’m sure you all have things you’d wish I didn’t see.”
Her team shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. Hurting all of them because one had erred wasn’t fair, but she didn’t care. She was going to get to the bottom of this, one way or another.
“The second option is that the guilty agent come forward. By doing that, the rest of the team won’t suffer. There’s a smoking area behind the hotel. I’m going there to wait. If the guilty agent doesn’t come out in five minutes, I’ll confiscate your devices.”
She uncrossed her arms and searched their faces. To say that she’d put the fear of God into them was an understatement, and she hoped it produced the desired result. She took the last doughnut before leaving.
The smoking area was shaded and had a bench. She sat on one end and muted her cell phone. She was betting that the guilty agent was apologizing to the rest of the team for bringing this on them, and would be joining her shortly.
A minute later, Otto West came outside. He was her favorite on the team, and she was saddened by his poor choice. She patted the bench, and he sat on the opposite end.
“It was me,” he said.
She waited for more, and realized that nothing was forthcoming.
“Are you going to apologize, ask me not to fire you?” she asked.
“If I did, I would be lying,” he said.
“So you think I made a bad choice. Why not come to me, and say so? We could have gone for a run, and you could have brought it up, and said what was on your mind. I wouldn’t have had an issue with that.”
West rested his elbows on his knees and looked straight ahead. She always considered it a bad sign when a person wouldn’t look her in the eye during a conversation; it was an indication that a trust had been broken.
“This is different,” he said.
“How is it different?”
“Jon Lancaster is a loose cannon. He does things that would get any of us fired. We all watched a YouTube video of him shooting two guys who kidnapped a little girl. He shot them on the side of the highway, with cars flying by. That’s crazy.” He paused, then added, “I don’t want my career cut short because of him.”
“You should have told me that.”
“Really? You and Lancaster have dated. I think it’s safe to say that you have feelings for him,” he said, still looking straight ahead. “We’ve all noticed it.”
The words were slow to sink in. Was this a group decision, with Otto picking the short straw and being the one to contact J. T.? If that was the case, then she had a much bigger problem on her hands.
“I dated Jon for a month. We had a great time, and I enjoyed his company,” she said. “When J. T. put our team on this case, I stopped communicating with him because I was afraid the distraction would impair my ability to do my job. Just so you know, I rarely talk to my family or friends when I’m working an investigation. It makes for a lousy social life, but that’s my decision.”
“I didn’t know that.” Then he added, “I’m sorry, Beth.”
“If you’d known this, would you still have contacted J. T.?”
“Probably not.”
“There’s more. Would you like to hear it?”
“Please.”
“Months ago, Jon helped me catch a pair of serial killers that had been eluding us for years. I’ll never forget it. I was with Jon in his apartment, and we’d been working the case nonstop for two days. We were poring over a file when I suddenly ran out of gas, and passed out on his couch. Has that ever happened to you before?”
“Sure. The mind says yes, but the body says no.”
“That’s right. The desire is there, but not the physical strength.”
“Happens to the best of us.”
“Not to Jon.”
Otto stared at her. “He doesn’t get tired?”
“Not as quickly as you and I do. It gives him an edge when working a case.”
“I’ll say.”
“Several hours after I fell asleep, Jon woke me up. He’d cracked the case. I remember looking at him, and thinking, ‘How are you still functioning? How does that work?’ I asked him on our first date. He explained that to become a SEAL, each recruit is trained to stay awake for several days at a time. While awake, the recruits have to run mountain courses, detonate explosives, and train underwater in scuba equipment. It’s grueling, and those that can’t do it, flunk out. The navy toughened Jon’s body and also his mind.”
“That’s impressive. You wouldn’t know that to look at him.”
“Looks can be deceiving.”
Otto shifted on the bench to face her. He didn’t seem fully satisfied by what she’d told him, and after a moment he explained why. “Several of the team checked out Lancaster online. Based upon the articles we read, it seems like he never stopped being a SEAL. That’s the part none of us understand.”
“How so?”
“Were you in the military?”
Daniels shook her head.
“My older brother was in Army Special Forces and did two tours of Afghanistan,” Otto said. “When he got out, he came home, got a job, got married, and raised a family. He put on weight, and drank beer with his buddies on the weekend. He started acting like a civilian, and stopped being a soldier. That isn’t the case with Lancaster. He went from being a SEAL to being a cop, and now he’s with Team Adam. He’s always armed and doesn’t run from trouble. If you ask me, he’s fighting his own private war.”
Otto had nailed it. Jon was pushing back against the darkness, just as she was. Her battle had started when she’d been tossed in the trunk of a car by a pair of serial killers while in college, and by a stroke of luck managed to escape. She’d been fighting evil ever since, and felt like she was winning. That was good enough reason to keep going, even if she didn’t have much of a personal life. But she didn’t know much about Jon’s motivation, or what drove him to sacrifice his time to help people he didn’t know.
She rose from the bench. Otto slowly stood up as well.
“Am I fired?” he asked.
“No,” she said.
“Do you want me to resign?”
“I’d like you to stay. Just don’t betray me again.”
They went to the exit that led back inside the hotel. Otto reached to open the door for her, then said, “Are you going to bring Lancaster back on board?”
“I want to, but not at the risk of alienating you and the rest of the team. Something tells me that you’re not the only one who feels this way.”
“Everyone on the team is worried.”
So it was a group sentiment. She needed to handle this right, or risk alienating them. “Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll sit down with Jon, and voice your concerns. If I can rein him in, I’ll bring him back. If not, he’s history. Sound fair?”
“I guess. Do you really think you can control him?” Otto asked.
She stared at her reflection in the door’s glass partition. She didn’t consider herself attractive, yet knew that most men did find her attractive, and would lavish attention on her, if given the opportunity. Jon had made her feel like a princess the times they’d gone out, and she felt certain that she could use that to her advantage.
“Jon will do what I want him to do.” She didn’t believe in loose ends, and wanted to be sure they were on the same page. She put her hand on his sleeve.
“Are we good?” she asked.
“Good as gold,” he said.
CHAPTER 28
There was no such thing as luck. That had been drilled into Lancaster’s head over and over during his military training. Luck was a by-product of hard work, intense preparation, and showing up. As the Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen once said, “Victory awaits him who has everything in order.”
The unexpected phone call came right after he hung up with Daniels. The area code wasn’t familiar, and at first he thought it was a robocall offering him a free line of credit or help dealing with the IRS. He almost didn’t take the call, but an itch in his gut said that it was important, so he answered it.
“Hi, this is Echo.”
“Hey there,” he said, smiling into the phone. “How was your trip? Are you at the farm? Is everything okay?”
“The trip was fine. We arrived about fifteen minutes ago. The farm is more beautiful than I could have imagined. Thank you for making this happen.”
“You’re going to like it there. It’s a very special place.”
“I think you’re right. I have something to share with you. When we boarded the flight, the pilot gave me a bag with snacks. There was a package of Ritz peanut butter crackers. When I saw them, I remembered that was the name of Dexter’s new partner.”
“His partner’s name is Peanut Butter?”
“No, just Butter.”
“So it’s a street name.”
“That’s right. I asked Dexter what it meant, and he said Butter was real slippery. I think they met in prison. Hopefully it will help your investigation.”
He made a fist bump and let out a silent Hooyah.
“It does help. Thank you,” he said.
“It was the least I could do.”
“I have a favor to ask. A video was posted on YouTube of me shooting the tires of the bikers at your apartment complex. You and your baby are in it as well. More than likely, there will be a criminal investigation into what happened.”
“Are you going to get in trouble?”
“That’s what I’m trying to avoid. If a police officer comes to the farm, and asks you about the video, I want you to tell him that it was a stranger who helped you, and that you don’t know the stranger’s name. Will you do that for me?”
“Of course. You saved our lives.”
“Thank you. Send photos after you get settled in.”
“I will. Goodbye, Jon.”
He ended the call and let out another yell. When he’d first become a cop, knowing a suspect’s nickname had been a useless piece of information. Now, because of the information superhighway, it was a powerful tool to tracking down a suspect.
He got on the internet. Because he was a member of Team Adam, he had access to many law enforcement agencies’ criminal databases, including those housed in the Florida Department of Law Enforcement’s headquarters in Tallahassee. The FDLE databases were called specialty databases, and included nicknames, descriptions of tattoos, and other identifying features of the 1.7 million citizens who’d been incarcerated in Florida’s prisons.
The nickname database was a powerful tool. Many criminals used aliases, and as a result, made it difficult for the police to track them down, especially if the police only had the criminal’s real name to work with. Nicknames were different. Once a criminal was given a nickname, it usually stayed with him for the rest of his life.
The nickname site had been updated, the colors in patriotic red, white, and blue. He entered the name Butter into the search engine, and hit “Enter.” A second later a mug shot appeared, along with a physical description, criminal history, and last known address.
Devin “Butter” Highnote, five foot eight, 170 pounds, mud-brown eyes, brown hair, a native of Saint Petersburg, Florida, with a rap sheet dating back twenty years, including arrests for armed robbery and attempted murder.
He leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together. Dexter Hudson and Devin Highnote were in Saint Petersburg, preparing to abduct another victim. Highnote was also a native of Saint Petersburg, which wasn’t a coincidence. The next victim was connected to Butter through one of his crimes.
He needed help, and called Nicki. She got to school early for band practice, and he hoped to catch her before classes began. Voice mail picked up, and he left a message.
Nicki was as passionate about catching criminals as her aunt, and sixty seconds later, she called back. “Hey, Jon! I saw the YouTube video. You took those bikers to school!”
“It wasn’t me,” he said solemnly.
“Right,” she said, laughing.
“I’m serious, Nicki. It wasn’t me, even though you and I know otherwise. If any of your classmates bring it up, you need to tell them that. Understood?”
“You bet.”
“I have an assignment for your CSI class. If you pull this off, you’ll help me break this case wide open. Think you can talk your teacher into it?”
“Sure. What do you want us to do?”
“I need you to run a background check on an ex-convict named Devin Highnote from Saint Petersburg. Devin was an inmate in Raiford Prison not that long ago. I need your class to find out why he was sent there.”
“That shouldn’t be too hard. Is he one of the kidnappers?”
“I believe he is. Call me once you find something.”
He said goodbye. Having a class of bright high school kids helping him was a real bonus, and he made a mental note to do something special for them once the investigation was over. He put his laptop under his arm and headed for the door.
Going downstairs, he entered the hotel’s business center, and connected the laptop wirelessly to the laser printer that guests could use free of charge. Moments later, two copies of Devin Highnote’s information spit out of the printer. One copy for him, the second for Beth. His cell phone rang, and he saw that it was her.
“I was just thinking of you,” he answered.
“I’m ten minutes from your hotel. Are you still there?”
“I’m in the lobby.”
“Stay there. We need to talk. You’re back on the case.”
