First Wave, page 3
The pounding in her head grew louder, until she realized it wasn’t coming from inside her head.
“Helicopter.”
She wanted to look up but figured that wasn’t a good idea. “Cavalry.” Too bad she hadn’t been able to mop up the blood on her face before they got here. She waved one arm above her head, then moved to the open area at the edge of the orchard. It wouldn’t be good if they landed by the body and blew away key pieces of evidence.
The chopper lowered to the ground. Dakota leaned against the fence and covered her ears. Josh stood beside her, and she took a moment to study him.
He’d been in a gunfight and didn’t look any worse for wear. He knew how to handle life when it got crazy, which made her wonder again about that military bearing he had.
“You okay, Pierce?”
She blinked and realized Special Agent O’Caran was watching her. Oops. “Fine,” she called out over the helicopter rotors. Another man walked behind him.
They were both here?
O’Caran’s baby face features made him look to be in his early twenties. Bright blue eyes and blond hair. He could be the heartbreaker doctor on a TV show. “Victoria said you had a case.”
Behind O’Caran was a taller, thinner man. Salvarez. Hispanic heritage. There was no better hunter she’d ever met. His deadly gaze flicked between her and Josh Weber, then took in her injury. Then he barked, “Explain.”
. . .
The look she gave him when Josh suggested she let the EMTs check her out almost made him take a step back. Almost.
The taller of the two men walked past him, intentionally clipping Josh with the duffel bag he carried. Evidence collection, probably. “You heard the man, Cupcake. Go see the EMTs.”
The combination of both the bump and the nickname caught Josh’s attention enough to make him turn and follow the guy. Cupcake? The younger of the two shot Josh a look, and then went with her instead of Josh and the tall one.
“Show me this body.”
“You aren’t going to arrest me, or lock me down as a witness?” Clearly these guys were feds as well. Homeland agents, just like the woman.
The Hispanic man glanced at him with a long look. “Should I?”
“Just a question.”
The man squared off with him. “She tried to arrest you, right?”
“Actually, I was going to arrest her. Maybe.”
“But you didn’t.” He pointed at Josh. “Smart move.” They trudged across the field of trees all the way to where Maggie lay. “Anyone touch anything?”
“Dakota checked for a pulse.” Josh hung back. The man crouched to look over every inch of the young woman. “Her name was Maggie.”
“And you know this how?”
Josh figured there wasn’t any reason to keep it a secret. “She’s my neighbor’s granddaughter. Eden asked me to see if Neema and I could find her.”
The man straightened. He eyed the dog as she wandered around the edge of the tree line sniffing everything. “Why’d your neighbor ask you?”
Josh paused. “You guys are Homeland Security, right? Does Maggie have something to do with one of your cases?”
He studied Josh, then pulled out his phone. “Full name.”
Josh figured there wasn’t any reason to lie, or not tell him.
“You live local?”
“Coeur d’Alene.” Not like his address was a secret. “But I work in Spokane.”
The man nodded. Josh might’ve been fooled into thinking the guy was distracted, typing on his phone. He wasn’t.
Assuming otherwise would’ve been a mistake, especially considering how his attention never shifted when the other two wandered over.
Before they emerged from the trees, the tall man with Josh called out, “How’s your head?”
Without even looking up from his phone.
Dakota stepped into view. “Fine.” But the bandage on her temple said otherwise.
The associate who’d gone with her said, “She has a concussion.”
She frowned at him. “He said probable. That doesn’t mean it’s definitive.”
The man with Josh said, “You throw up?”
She made a face. Across the other end of the field the helicopter lifted from the ground, momentarily cutting off any conversation.
Josh folded his arms and waited out the whomp of rotors as the chopper moved away. “So what does Homeland Security want with this apple orchard?” It was only a guess that their presence here didn’t have anything to do with Maggie.
The younger of the two men pointed at the woman. “Dakota is Homeland.” He stepped forward, right hand stretched out. “Niall O’Caran, NCIS.”
A Navy cop?
They shook, and then Niall pointed to the taller man. “Salvador Alvarez, US Marshal.”
Josh frowned. Dakota chuckled, then said, “Yeah. That’s pretty much most people’s reaction.” She pushed out a breath. “Northwest Counter-Terrorism Task Force.”
“Never heard of it.”
She folded her arms. “That means we’re doing our jobs. You see, people think federal agencies can’t work together, and for the most part they’re correct. FBI and some other agencies work great with local law enforcement one-to-one, on a smaller scale. We work the cases that cross state lines, as well as the jurisdictions of multiple federal agencies—those that would normally leave the FBI and the DEA squabbling over who is lead on the case. We’re fighting the same war. We’re on the same side. It isn’t perfect, but we’re in a unique position to focus on specific cases, using our individual skills without the bureaucracy.”
“Investigating without red tape?”
That sounded like the best parts of the job he’d wanted. And a whole lot more interesting. But Josh had to squash that thought, otherwise his attempt at contentment would go out the window.
The marshal cracked a smile that looked scary more than anything else. Salvador Alvarez, the younger guy, had said. “We don’t have carte blanche. What we have is the understanding that we can piece things together that otherwise wouldn’t be connected, and a boss with a serious amount of pull.”
Dakota took a step away. “You got this, right Sal?” She wandered to a tree and lowered herself to sit, her back against it.
The thin man frowned. “Yeah, Cupcake. I got it.”
The dichotomy between a Marshal who was admittedly pretty scary looking, and his use of the word “cupcake,” made Josh wonder if there was something between them. Something other than the respect of teammates. The very thought of something more between the two made him feel strangely disappointed.
Alvarez tossed the younger man a pair of gloves from his duffel bag, and they got to work processing the body.
Josh glanced at Dakota. Maybe she should’ve gone back in the chopper to get seen by a doctor. Neema wandered over to her then. She sniffed the hand Dakota had placed in her lap, then laid down beside her.
The woman agent stiffened.
Didn’t like dogs? Or wasn’t used to them.
Plenty of people didn’t know what to do with a dog, especially one who could be imposing. Too many owners failed to train their animals, or didn’t recognize how easily dogs could develop psychological problems. Neema wasn’t his child. She was a trained marine asset, an animal, and they weren’t a family. They were a pack.
A pack that needed to let this team get to work. He could report back to Eden with the sad news about her granddaughter. He wasn’t even supposed to be here. Josh should be at the YMCA, playing basketball with the youth group kids. The last thing he needed was to insert himself into someone else’s case.
He’d tried to respect the agent the DEA had assigned him as a mentor. But how could he when all the guy wanted to do was watch surveillance video and file reports? They’d visited a bank once. That was the only time they’d left the office in four months of working together—except to get lunch. The guy was like a cop who only wanted to write traffic citations instead of responding to actual calls. He just couldn’t understand it.
“You guys have a lot to do, so Neema and I will get out of your hair.” He clicked his fingers. His dog got up and wandered toward him, stretching out her back legs one by one as she came over. He scratched her head and nodded to the agents.
US Marshal.
NCIS.
Homeland Security.
This wasn’t his life. It was theirs. Maybe one day he could find out more about them. See if they had an open spot on the team.
“Alvarez.”
Josh glanced at him and saw the glow of his phone screen up against the man’s cheek.
“Yeah.” Pause.
Josh waved, ready to get out of there.
“Maybe.” Another pause. “Yes, Ma’am.” He hung up the phone. “How about you don’t leave just yet, Special Agent Weber.”
Dakota gasped. “What?”
“You heard me,” the Marshal said. “He’s a fed. Josh here is an agent with the DEA.”
Chapter 4
Dakota gaped. “DEA? I heard you say you were a fed but I didn’t believe it.” Part of her had assumed it was just a bluff. “Why didn’t you say something?”
Sal turned away to bag evidence while Niall took a million pictures. She didn’t miss the satisfied look on his face. He took entirely too much pleasure in putting Josh on the spot.
The relentless click of the camera didn’t feel good with her head pounding like this, but she was alive.
Josh ran a gloved hand over his hair.
“Maybe I should call your boss and ask them that question.” She didn’t have to like sitting here with the mother of all headaches while they did the work. She could’ve done it herself if she hadn’t run into a tree branch.
She pulled out her phone, not necessarily intending to use it. More to let this guy know she wasn’t going to be swayed, even if he talked a good game. She’d learned the hard way what manipulation did. Dakota didn’t rely on her feelings anymore. She used logic and reason to make decisions.
“I’d rather you didn’t do that.” Josh took a couple of steps toward her. The dog wandered some more.
Was the animal going to sniff her again? Dakota shifted her wary glance to look at the DEA agent. “I’ve known a few DEA agents. You don’t want to hear my opinion of most of them.”
He shrugged. “I’m new. The reputation is that they’re a bunch of rule-breakers and partiers, right? It’s true of some, but the DEA higher-ups are actively trying to bring in new blood. To shake up the agency and get things running efficiently again.”
“So why don’t you want them to know you’re here?”
“Because I’m doing a favor for my neighbor, trying to find Maggie.”
“By trespassing on private land.”
He shot her a pointed look. Yes, that was exactly what she’d been doing as well. She hastily changed the subject. “Who was in the vehicle?”
“Two guys, late thirties. Forties, maybe. The third was a teen.”
“Looks like you’ll be spending your Saturday looking at mugshots.”
He groaned. “Just as long as I’m back at my desk on Monday.”
“With your name conveniently absent from any official record?”
He said, “I’m not going to ask for that. It would be unethical.”
“Okay.” She wasn’t approving of his statement, just gauging what kind of man he was.
“However, if we could refrain from calling my office before then…” He let that hang. “My supervisor will find out eventually. He’ll rap my knuckles and we’ll go back to shipping manifests and quarterly reports.”
She made a face.
He barked a laugh. “Now you feel my pain.”
“Not quite what I thought the DEA was about, but okay.”
Josh shook his head. The hint of a smile curled his mouth. “It would be funny if it wasn’t incredibly frustrating. He’s just biding his time until retirement, doing busy work.”
Dakota did a slow nod. She was so glad Victoria didn’t work that way. Nor had anyone at Homeland Security been like that, for that matter. Not when she’d trained with them, or those first few years before Victoria found her and snapped her up for her own team.
Sal glanced at her again. The twitch in his eye indicated amusement. She didn’t know what was so funny. “Almost done?”
“Not hardly.” Sal straightened to his full height and pulled out the cell phone he kept in his inside coat pocket. She didn’t think he’d ever worn a suit in his life. Except maybe at his mom’s funeral. Right now he had on insulated jeans, work boots, a thick shirt and several layers beneath that coat.
Similar to what Josh wore. Working man clothes. Clothes that said, “I’m outside and it’s cold. If I’m going to get dirty, I may as well be warm and comfortable doing it.” They were men who cared first about doing a job the right way. Not about appearance.
Her butt was cold from sitting on the ground. Her ears were numb. She could use a hot cup of decaf coffee, but aside from that—and the headache—she was all right. Her clothes were keeping her warm enough.
Not like the stuff she’d worn growing up.
Threadbare clothes were something she’d stuffed down into her mind, forgotten like the rest of those years. Not that being poor was something to be ashamed of. Plenty of good people had little to their name. Money didn’t make you a better person, it just showed your true character. For Dakota, a steady paycheck had proven to her that she could be the kind of person she wanted to be, regardless of the income.
Someone who gave plenty of her time and money. Someone who didn’t have to live what she’d lived as a child. She’d moved on. Made a life. Found good things, good people. Faith that was just as logical and reasonable as she was. Her life made sense now. At least as much as she figured it ever would.
“Are you up for a walk?”
Sal’s question jogged her out of her own head. Good thing. She didn’t want to get lost in there. “What?”
He motioned with his head. “Go meet the coroner out front of the house. Show him where we are and then talk to the residents.”
Dakota wanted to nod. That wasn’t a good idea. “Sure.” Better than sitting around here.
Josh even wandered over and stuck out his hand. She didn’t actually need help to stand but if it made him feel useful, that was fine. She clasped his wrist and he hauled her to her feet.
“Take Niall with you. Leave Special Agent Weber.”
The NCIS agent handed Sal his camera and came over to her. He held out his elbow and used the worst British accent ever to say, “Fancy a stroll, milady?”
“Don’t ever do that again.” Rolling her eyes, she took his elbow and they ambled past Josh.
Niall laughed. “Yes, ma’am.” He opted for a southern drawl that time.
“And don’t call me ma’am.”
They set off through the trees to the main house, about a mile to the north. Niall said, “Do you think he just wants to grill that Josh guy more, or is he actually worried you’ll, like, pass out?”
“It’s Sal. Who knows?”
He nodded, as if she’d dispensed great wisdom. “Did that shot they gave you kick in yet?”
“I don’t feel like I’m going to hurl up a meal I haven’t eaten anymore, but my bell definitely got rung. Like a gong that goes on and on, you know?”
“Um…sure.”
She huffed out a laugh. “Tell Sal I’m fine.”
“And that DEA agent? What about him?”
“Why would I care about him?”
Niall looked down at her as they walked.
“What?”
“Huh. Okay.” He was quiet for a moment. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Warn me about what? Bell got rung, remember. Not exactly firing on all cylinders.”
“The DEA agent could’ve walked with you. I’m sure Sal would’ve let him do that instead of me.”
“I doubt it,” she said. “He’s probably deep in interrogation mode already. Really tightening the screws, you know? Maybe we’ll even hear him scream.”
Niall laughed aloud. “Sal isn’t that bad. Is he?”
Dakota let his question hang in the air. “Just promise me you’ll never agree to go camping with him.” She did an exaggerated shiver. “I still have the scar I got last time.”
. . .
“How much of that was the concussion?”
The US Marshal, Sal Alvarez, tipped his head to one side, eyes on the body. “Dakota is…Dakota.”
“Does she have Native American in her?”
“Probably.” He glanced over. “Though, I’d advise against asking her any questions about her past, prior to her joining the task force four years ago. Or anything about her personal life at all.”
Josh glanced over at Neema, who had stayed away from the body so far. She’d never been trained as a cadaver dog, so he had figured she might at least be curious. He called her over, pulled off his gloves and ran his hands down her sides. Over her hips. Her expertise ran more in the direction of sniffing out Afghani heroin. She wasn’t an official DEA asset and likely would never be with her hip the way it had healed. But she was still his dog.
“She cold?”
Josh nodded. “I should get her inside pretty soon. She’s already been out longer than she’s comfortable with. Her hip will lock up.”
“Injury?”
“She was retired from the Marine Corps when she got hit by a ricochet sniper round. Shattered her hip joint.” He watched her walk, assessing her gait. She was either okay, or she was determined not to let on that she hurt—and it could be either. “Three surgeries.”
“That why you got out?”
Josh shrugged one shoulder. It figured the man knew about his military service, the same way he’d known Josh was an agent for the DEA. “I lost the drive for it. Didn’t see much point being out there without Neema, so I finished up and came home.”
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