Cold Spite, page 23
part #1 of Cold Justice® - Most Wanted Series
Delilah’s brows raised at that. The guy visited more often than Scanlon’s own family, although making the trip from Louisiana couldn’t have been easy. Perhaps Joseph should have thought about that before he started his side hustle for the cartel.
She came across images of women. More than she could have ever imagined. Were they personal friends or groupies attracted by the publicity? She printed out their images and basic information.
Nicole and the kid never visited.
Her lawyer did though, presumably to deliver divorce papers.
Delilah bet that had made him cranky.
She dug her fingers into her scalp. No one jumped out aside from the SEALs. She was going to have to dig deeper into each of the visitors to see if any of them were likely to have assisted Joseph on his murderous quest.
Alerts dinged on one of the monitors like an old-fashioned bicycle bell.
Yael rolled over to the machine and hurriedly opened a feed. “And we have a hit! Across the street from the hotel from an ATM. He’s wearing a ball cap—which I actually added to the possible variables given the ones he and his brother wore earlier—but I’d say there’s a good chance that this is Joseph Scanlon leaving the hotel at 7:04 p.m., Tuesday night.”
So he could have made it to the East Coast in time to try to kill Demarco.
Delilah stared at the image. As much as she wanted to get excited, the picture was grainy and indistinct. “It looks like him, but I’m not sure it would pass for an ID in court. Can we clean it up?”
“It’s never going to be great quality,” Yael warned.
Delilah considered. Right now, it proved nothing. The guy could argue he just went out to dinner or for a walk around the neighborhood. “Can we see if there was any activity in the room? Room service order being placed? Calls received? Movies rented? Anything that puts someone else in the room while this guy is on the street?”
Yael nodded, but Delilah wasn’t finished. “And can we follow this individual and see where he goes? We might get lucky. Presumably, if it’s Joseph, he’s headed to SeaTac.”
Twin creases scored the skin between Yael’s eyes. “We can. None of the other facial rec programs have had any hits in SeaTac though, except for the recorded flights we know he was booked on, to and from New Orleans.”
“Could he have used prosthetics? A disguise? Facial recognition tricking clothes?”
Yael watched her patiently until she ran out of steam. “Yes, to all of those things. And if he changes disguises again before catching a flight then we might lose him completely. Or he could drive to a different airport and fly from there.”
Delilah wanted to bitch and moan with frustration, but it wasn’t Yael’s fault. Yael wasn’t her technician, and she was doing a hell of a job, a job that would normally take a lot longer. Delilah scrubbed her face. “I’m sorry for pushing so hard.”
Yael gave a soft smile. “Trust me, I’ve worked with the FBI before—where do you think I met Shane?”
Frustration had her clenching her jaw. “I worry he’s out there planning to hurt others.” While her friends lay dead in the San Diego morgue.
Yael reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll get him.”
“I’m worried about his ex-wife,” she confessed. “I think he’ll go after her next. I mean she hated me before the trial and spouted all sorts of lies about me entrapping her husband. But she changed her tune as soon as the videos were shown in court, and she began divorce proceedings the moment Joseph was found guilty.”
“She ever apologize to you?”
Delilah snorted. “No.”
“But you care about her wellbeing.”
Delilah shrugged. “It’s my job.”
“That’s not why you care about her.” Yael leaned back in that fancy chair of hers and quirked a shy grin. “You’re a good person, Special Agent Delilah Quinn.”
The comment hit her unexpectedly and made emotion lodge in her throat. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m a good agent.”
“That too.”
“I hate being side-lined,” she grumbled.
“Hey, this isn’t sidelined.” Yael raised her arms and indicated the many monitors. “This is the cutting edge of the investigation.”
“I wish I knew what was going on with the task force.”
“We could hack into the task force database if it makes you feel better.”
Delilah’s mouth dropped open. “You couldn’t.”
Yael’s blinked innocently. “I’m literally paid to try.”
Delilah clenched her fists. “You might get away with it, but somehow, I think if we were caught, I’d be off the case and out of a job before I could blink.” The temptation was there though. She liked to have all the information. She was used to being in charge.
She was also part of a large organization she believed in. One she trusted would keep working to get to the bottom of what had happened. But the wheels of justice ground excruciatingly slowly and Delilah was impatient to catch this sonofabitch.
She wanted her life back.
She wanted her friends avenged.
Most of all she wanted the danger that Scanlon represented back behind bars where he deserved to be. Where he couldn’t hurt anyone else.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Senior Chief Terry Lopez stopped them before they’d even gotten out of their car. “Great to see you, Cas, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to reschedule this for another time.” He caught Makimi’s eye and nodded. “Ma’am.”
Cas didn’t bother to hide his annoyance. They’d known each other too long and too well for him to worry about the other man taking offense. “Good to see you too, but this isn’t a social call. We’re in the middle of a murder investigation. We don’t have time to wait around on the Navy’s timetable.”
The Senior Chief had ink-black hair and skin as swarthy as Cas’s. Unlike Cas he was on the short side, but it had never held him back. Terry put his hands on top of the sedan and leaned down. “Sorry, man. I don’t have a choice. Everyone’s been called in for a TOC huddle.”
Tactical Operation Center huddle was shorthand for a panic stations team meeting.
“They raised the threat level to FPCON CHARLIE and all non-military visitors are being asked to exit the base until we get a handle on the possible threat.”
Force Protection Condition (FPCON) CHARLIE meant something had happened or intelligence indicated there was some form of terrorist threat against personnel or facilities.
Cas’s spine tingled.
The sky was overcast. The temperature in the low fifties—about normal for February. The sound of a helicopter thrummed in the near distance. The wind whipped the flags that were all set at half-mast.
Shit.
“Who died?”
Lopez leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Rear Admiral Lawrence Sagal and his wife were found murdered in their home about an hour ago by their son who’s a captain at Coronado. The admiral only retired yesterday.”
Sagal had been a hard man but a fair one. A good leader. This would hit the Special Forces community hard.
“Command is worried someone tortured information out of the guy, so we’re all locking down until we can figure this out and doublecheck protocols.”
Thoughts raced through Cas’s mind. NCIS would be leading in the murder investigation, given the Admiral’s knowledge of Naval facilities and operations.
Cas gripped Lopez’s wrist to stop him moving away. The guy leaned closer with a question in his eyes.
“We need to verify Kevin Holtz’s movements for all of yesterday. It’s urgent.”
Lopez looked impatient. “I don’t know what the fuck is gonna happen in the next twelve hours. I suspect at minimum we’re gonna have a thorough review of security after this briefing. I’m gonna be lucky to get home at all tonight, and my wife is not going to be happy with me.”
“Terry, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
Lopez looked to the sky. “Oh, man. No. Not today. You’re not calling in that favor for saving my life all those years ago. Not today.”
“If that’s what it takes… Hey—” He lowered his voice as personnel scurried about. “This could be related to your threat. Sagal stripped Scanlon of his Trident. Holtz was just going on to us about the unfairness of the whole thing, and now the guy is dead? Don’t forget someone tried to blow me up yesterday, and we all know who the number one suspect is.”
Lopez pressed his lips together.
Cas pushed his advantage. “You know they’re friends.”
Lopez pulled a face. “They went through BUD/S together. You know how that goes. Holtz keeps his nose clean and does his job.”
“He had access to bomb materials. I’m not saying it was him, but someone has to be helping Scanlon, and he hasn’t been out long enough to make that many new friends who have access to C4 and detonators on this side of the country.”
Lopez heaved out a sigh. “Fine, but I doubt I can verify his movements without him finding out. People are going to want to know why I’m asking questions.”
“I don’t care if he finds out.”
Lopez’s brows beetled.
“I want him to sweat, Terry. I want him to wonder who the fuck to trust and be looking over his shoulder. I want him to be curious what evidence the FBI got off that bomb. If he’s innocent, he’ll be pissed. If he was where he said he was, then you’ll be helping verify his alibi. If he’s lying, then he has a problem. But if lying is his only crime, then maybe I’ll cut him a break.” Cas shrugged and watched the wheels spin in Lopez’s eyes as the installation went into lockdown all around them.
Lopez looked off into the distance. “I don’t like doing this to one of my men, but fine. If Holtz was involved with yesterday’s bombing the Navy needs to know.”
“Thank you, Senior Chief. Any idea how Sagal died?”
Lopez shook his head. “But I hear it wasn’t pretty.” His gaze sharpened. “You really think Scanlon could be complicit?”
Cas gave an exaggerated shrug. “Another person involved in Scanlon’s downfall dies in unexpected circumstances…? That’s a hell of a coincidence if he isn’t involved.”
Lopez’s nostrils flared. “You need to watch your back. If you’re right, you have one of the most dangerous men in the country gunning for you.”
Worse—gunning for Delilah.
“Don’t worry, my friend. I’m operating on FPCON DELTA.”
Lopez held out his hand and squeezed Cas’s. “Don’t underestimate him. And make time for a social call soon, huh? We may be a step down from your HRT buddies—”
“You know that isn’t true.” Cas hated that Lopez might think that.
Lopez let go of his hand and rapped the top of the car. “Time to head out. I’ll be in touch.”
Makimi put the car in gear and joined the long line of vehicles leaving the base.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Joseph was under the hood of a tricked-out banana-yellow Ford Bronco when he heard footsteps approaching. He peered out under his arm.
“Hi, there, LaCroix Police here. Deputy Herbert. Looking for Joseph Scanlon.” The deputy who nodded at him had full cheeks that were shiny and red and didn’t look as if they’d ever felt the scrape of a razor.
Joseph straightened and wiped his hands on a dirty rag. The scent of motor oil and feel of grit on his fingers was familiar but not what he’d wanted out of life. That’s why he’d joined the Navy.
And look how well that turned out for you, couyon?
“Well, you found him.”
The deputy reached out to shake his hand. The young officer’s hand felt clammy in his despite the fact the temperature was only in the fifties today.
Joseph mentally calculated the quickest way to put him down.
“Police Chief wanted me to come by and say ‘Hi.’”
I bet he did. “Hi.”
“Nice vehicle.” Deputy Herbert nodded to the Bronco.
Piece of shit. “Needs a new carburetor and the timing fixed.”
The deputy put his hands on his hips. The guy was barely out of diapers. He was already carrying a little extra weight. Give him five years of Miss Sunny’s world-famous beignets, and he was gonna struggle to fit behind the wheel.
“You got your parole officer sorted out?” The deputy used his serious face, as if now they’d done the introductions they were done with pleasantries.
“Yes, sir, I sure do.” Joseph crossed his arms and noticed the man’s eyes lock onto the tattoo on his biceps. He half expected an audible gulp. “Jim Jenkins in Thibodaux. Got an appointment with him tomorrow afternoon. Four thirty. I better get back to working on this vehicle so the owner can get it back for the weekend.”
Jim Jenkins was a slimy son of a gun who was a parole officer probably because he was too fat and lazy to become a cop. Considering the look of this one, it was a low bar.
The deputy cleared his throat. “I have to ask. Have you left the parish at all this week?”
Joseph blinked and raised his brows. Cocked his head to one side.
Oh, yes. It was happening.
“Tuesday, I went up to Seattle to visit my kid. I didn’t see her when I was in prison.” ‘Cos her bitch of a mother had refused to let her come. “I had permission. Got back Wednesday morning.” He smiled and hoped he didn’t look as angry as he felt. That he needed permission from an asshole like Jenkins to travel out of state when he had once traveled the globe to fight for his country. Look at how that country had treated him? Like he was nothing but a common criminal. “C’est tout.”
The deputy nodded slowly, then rubbed at the corner of his eye like he had allergies. “I don’t suppose your brother is around here anywhere, is he?”
“You want to speak to Virgil? He done something wrong?”
Deputy Herbert cleared his throat. Found his balls. “I don’t know, has he?”
Joseph smiled at that. “He’s probably in the back there.” He indicated the small office at the back of the crammed workshop. “My daddy is out on a breakdown. Some young lady stuck on Bayou Road.”
The deputy nodded. “I’ll drive out that way after I leave here. Could you ask Virgil to step out, please?”
Joseph didn’t know whether to be impressed that the cop had any self-preservation instincts at all, or disgusted he wasn’t brave enough to walk inside a mechanics workshop in his own town. Imagine the guy off home soil. Imagine how brave he’d be if the other guys actually fought back. What was the Police Chief thinking sending a wet-behind-the-ears grunt like this to his home? That he was too pathetic for Joseph to bother to hurt?
He calmed himself. The mission was the only thing that mattered. Local cops were a mild hindrance at worst.
“Virgil!” His voice rang off the metal roof. “We done got company.”
There was a mutter and a curse.
Virgil walked out the office holding his cell phone to his ear. They both wore identical jeans and T-shirts.
“What you want with me? You think you can harass me the same way you get to harass my brother, you got another think coming.”
The deputy held up his palms in surrender. “No, sir. Trying to verify your brother’s whereabouts.”
“Why?” Virgil barked and Joseph was surprised the cop didn’t piss his pants.
The deputy slowly backed toward the large garage doors, obviously rattled. “Someone killed that SEAL commander, the one who stripped you of your military rank after you were convicted.”
Joseph feigned surprise. “Which one?” Because in truth there were a whole bunch he’d like to gut and mount on the wall.
“Rear Admiral Sagal. Someone attacked him and his wife in their home this morning.”
“Ah, that’s too bad. About the wife that is.” He bared his teeth in a smile.
“You weren’t a fan?” the young deputy asked.
Joseph raised his arms in a full body shrug. “Isn’t that why you’re here, Deputy Herbert?”
The deputy pressed his lips together and puffed out his cheeks. “C’est vrai.”
“Anything else we can do for you, deputy?” he asked. “Coffee, beignet?”
Regret twisted the young man’s features. “No, sir. Thank you. I apologize for interrupting your morning. I’ll go take a run out Bayou Road. See if your pa managed to start that lady’s vehicle.”
“Mighty good of you.” Joseph nodded approvingly.
Virgil clapped him on the back as the cop climbed into his cruiser. “They send nothing but the best for you, brother. Ain’t no way they’re going to figure this out.”
They were idiots, and the justice system was there to be manipulated. You just needed to know how to play the game. That first trial had taught Joseph a lot about that game. Mainly, don’t get caught, but also, always create doubt. Make them have to prove everything beyond all reasonable doubt.
The justice system, it was a beautiful thing.
Chapter Forty
Delilah sat in a room in the small building on the outskirts of the FBI National Academy where she’d completed her training seven years ago. She’d always known what she wanted to do in life. Be like her daddy and stop bad people doing bad things.
Put them in jail.
Keep innocents safe.
Except that hadn’t worked with Scanlon. Not in the long run. Secretly, she wished she’d shot him, back when he’d tackled her during the fumbled arrest. As shocking as it was, she wished she’d pulled the trigger and removed the stain on society that was Joseph Scanlon.
Val would still be alive. David too. Clarence. The admiral and his wife, Heather.
Delilah jolted at the sound of gunfire that penetrated the double-paned windows making it sound as if they were under assault. It was agents on the gun ranges and NATs—New Agents in Training—being put through their paces, being taught how to make an arrest without getting rugby tackled to the ground.
You got used to the noise after a while, but today it made Delilah twitchy.
