Cold Fury, page 3
part #1 of Cold Justice® - Most Wanted Series
Freedom.
He could taste it. It was as precious and desired as a baby to a barren couple, as food to a starving man.
He clambered to the top of the hill, breathing hard, cautious in case Roberts or Somack were also there, or in case the authorities had already missed them. When he got to the edge of the road, he peered through the trees.
Nothing.
No one.
He tried to check the map on Pedrós’s cell, but it was passcode protected and useless to him. Frustrated, he flung it toward the river.
A car approached, and Julius took a risk. He stuffed the jumpsuit under his jacket, stood at the edge of the road and flagged down the driver. He had to get away from here as fast as possible—that was the only way he’d escape for good. The car skidded to a halt, and Julius strode confidently to the passenger window and bent down.
It was a young man, mid-twenties.
Julius slipped the gun into his pocket.
“There’s been an accident. I need a ride to the nearest town.”
“Sure, man. Get in.”
Julius got in. He knew suddenly that this was all meant to be. This was fate. He finally registered something else too. He touched his jaw. His tooth didn’t hurt anymore. He’d knocked it out during the crash.
The day got better and better.
He pictured Hope’s face when she heard the news. She couldn’t ignore him now, could she? Bitch.
She’d know he was coming for her. And she’d know why.
2
February 1, Mon., 4:15 p.m. FBI HRT compound, Quantico
Aaron Nash wrapped his arm around Ryan Sullivan’s neck and, like so many people must often dream, squeezed. The two men lay grappling on the floor. Aaron wrapped his legs around the other guy and held the slippery bastard immobile. Sweat dripped into Aaron’s eyes and his breath was hot in his lungs, but no way would he let Ryan out of this grip.
Aaron’s moniker, a nickname he secretly hated, was “The Professor” because he was one of the few in the Hostage Rescue Team without a military or law enforcement background. Instead, he had an advanced degree in Biology and, except for a twist of fate, would have made that his life’s work. Cowboy didn’t have a military background either, but they could both hold their own on the team. And on the mat.
Ryan tapped out, and Aaron released the other man, and they rolled away from each other, panting hard.
“Who’s next?” Ryan sounded hoarse but resigned. “Bring it on.”
“Donnelly’s the only one who hasn’t kicked your ass yet today.”
Ryan slumped onto his back, gym clothes dark with sweat. His face was flushed as he stared at the ceiling. “I’ll concede now and avoid the humiliation.”
Meghan Donnelly snorted.
Aaron pushed to his feet and held out his hand to the other operator. “Good idea. Save your energy for when Steel gets back from Maine.”
Ryan grunted as he took his hand and let Aaron haul him to his feet. “Grady is gonna kill me. I was an asshole.”
“Past tense?” Aaron arched a brow.
Ryan grinned but it didn’t reach the man’s eyes. “Probably not.”
Aaron knew his friend was hurting. He wished he could help, but some people seemed to hoard their inner misery. Maybe it was what held them together.
He could hardly throw stones but, rather than dwell on the past, he preferred not to think about it. Unless it was shoved in his face, and then he had to grin and bear it.
Hunt Kincaid tossed them both a towel. Everyone on Gold team had taken a turn at hand-to-hand with Ryan this afternoon. Cowboy had held his own for a while, but after two hours he wouldn’t be able to defend himself against a potato chip let alone highly skilled operators. Everyone had gained a little exercise and a lot of satisfaction. Ryan had gotten the message to keep his nose out of other people’s business.
It might stick.
But Aaron doubted it.
They began heading toward the locker room when team leader Payne Novak strode in. “Who else is still in the compound?”
Aaron wiped the perspiration off his face. Gold team was comprised of two seven-person assault units, Echo and Charlie, plus one eight-person sniper unit. Most of the assaulters were in the gym or the locker rooms. “Everyone except the snipers who went home already.”
Between serial killers, drug cartels and a rogue former FBI agent, Gold team had been run ragged since the turn of the year.
They’d lost two of their colleagues within a week of one another, and those losses had hit them all hard. Aaron still couldn’t get his head around the fact Dave Monteith and Kurt Montana were both dead.
“What’s up?”
Novak gave him a look that spelled trouble. “We may have a prison break.”
“May?” Aaron raised a brow and smiled. “We don’t know for sure?”
Novak’s expression remained serious. “Overdue transport carrying two guards and four inmates from a Maximum-Security prison in western Massachusetts. Minibus went missing on the way to a medical facility during a blizzard.”
That storm was sweeping down from the Canadian prairies and threatened to swathe half the continent.
Novak checked his watch. “It was due to arrive at the medical center around two-thirty p.m. After another hour went by with no prison transport, the medical facility called the prison, and the alarm was raised. State Troopers are out searching for the vehicle now. US Marshals are en route to the area and will be in charge of the incident should it prove to be an escape.”
It was 4:30 p.m. now.
A pulse of excitement shot through Aaron. “Are we involved in the search?”
Novak shook his head. “Not yet.”
The storm would make it too dangerous to get aircraft into the sky to look for heat signatures and also worked against personnel on the ground.
Aaron waited as Novak sent out the text alerting everyone to a crisis situation. Then he raised his voice for everyone still in the gym. “Wheels up in thirty.”
“Where are we going?” asked Aaron.
They headed toward the locker rooms.
“DoJ got wind of who was on that transport and wants protection on several prominent figures related to their cases as a precaution.” Novak stopped, his expression serious. “Apparently the BAU agrees.”
“Who possibly escaped?”
“Reggie Somack, Michael Herbert, Perry Roberts.”
Didn’t ring any bells.
“And…Julius Leech,” Novak finished.
“The serial killer?”
“Yeah. Although the other three are no angels. One high-level drug dealer, a guy who murdered his girlfriend and kidnapped her kid with intent to traffic her, and a serial rapist.”
Aaron pressed his lips together. “You think Leech is going after the lawyer whose family he murdered?”
Novak shrugged. “Or the lawyer who failed to save him from prosecution the second time around, or the judge who sentenced him to life without the chance of parole, or witnesses who testified against him. I seem to remember he made a lot of threats in that courthouse when he was convicted.”
“Where was that again?”
“Boston. The judge retired outside of the city. The lawyer who lost the case has a fancy private firm in the city, and Hope Harper is now an assistant district attorney for the Suffolk County District Attorney’s office.”
Aaron vaguely remembered her. At the time of the murders, he’d been doing his master’s on an island in French Polynesia. The double homicide of husband and child had made sensational headlines even in that remote part of the world. Some people had called it divine justice after she’d defended an accused serial killer and gotten him released. Aaron didn’t think the murder of two innocents should ever be acceptable collateral damage for someone else’s choices. He was all for people paying for their own crimes.
Defense attorneys were a necessary evil, but having been grilled numerous times on the stand as a field agent, he wasn’t a fan.
“Seems unlikely Leech would head back to the lion’s den simply for revenge. Unless he’s innocent and looking for a one-armed man,” Aaron scoffed, referring to the Harrison Ford movie.
Novak smiled, but the edges were strained. The guy had fallen easily into a leadership role, but Aaron knew he’d give it up in an instant to have their old boss back.
Wishful thinking. Montana’s memorial service was in ten days despite them not having a body to bury.
“I guess we’re off to Boston?”
Novak nodded. “ASAP. Even though it’s unlikely Leech will go anywhere near Beantown. It’ll be a good training opportunity and give the FNGs some experience with close-protection work.”
The “Fucking New Guys” on Gold team were his equipment cage partner Hunt Kincaid, plus Will Griffin, and Meghan Donnelly—the first woman ever to make it through Selection.
“I’m putting you in charge of Echo squad for this one. Romano has Charlie. We’ll get updates en route as to the exact location of our principals.”
“Have they been informed yet?”
“Not that I’m aware.” Novak strode away.
There was a lot to organize if they hoped to beat this storm. Aaron stripped for a quick shower.
“Where’re we headed?” Ryan was already drying off.
“Boston.”
Ryan’s expression brightened. “What are we doing in Boston?”
“Probably freezing our asses off protecting people from a non-existent threat.”
“Fun. I have friends in Boston.” Ryan had friends everywhere. “Beats getting my ass kicked all day.”
“We can still kick your ass in the field.” Aaron gave him a look that told him all was not forgiven.
Ryan shot him a sardonic grin and drawled in his best Montana accent, “Well, Professor, you can certainly try.”
3
“Get me the file on the Du Maurier case and chase the lab for the report on the fibers found at the Dutton apartment. They promised it for last Friday,” Assistant District Attorney Hope Harper instructed her legal intern, Colin Leighton, as she packed up her leather briefcase with her laptop and a thick file she’d read tonight after she grabbed something to eat.
“You want the Du Maurier file emailed to you?”
“No, leave it on my desk. I’ll read it in the morning.”
This routine generally worked for them. Colin was a night owl, and she was an early riser. Not that she slept much.
“Don’t forget we have court at ten,” she reminded him.
“I haven’t forgotten. You have dinner plans tonight?” he asked.
“No. Why?” Hope looked at the young man who was medium height and fit-looking with wiry brown hair that always seemed a little out of control. She’d heard some of the other interns saying he was hot, but to Hope he looked like a teenager. Considering that she felt as ancient as the Appalachians, everyone did.
“Just wondered.” He shifted his feet as if suddenly uncertain.
The guy had graduated early, completing a three-year law degree in two and a half years. He’d worked for her for a couple of months, having interned for the DA’s office the previous summer. She knew almost nothing about him beside the fact he was competent, efficient, and slightly cocky. But she’d also been cocky and, as he knew how to take orders without screwing up, she cut him a break.
“You have plans outside studying for the bar exam?”
He gave her a rueful smile. “I’m going for a quick drink with some friends.”
Friends. What a concept. She’d pushed everyone away in the aftermath of Danny’s and Paige’s murders. Didn’t particularly miss any of them.
She raised a brow. “Are you that confident?”
“It’s only for an hour, and I’ve studied my ass off the last few years.” He shrugged. “Plus, there’s always next time.”
As he was a great intern, she didn’t care if he passed or failed the bar this time around. Failing might ground his ego. Plus, she hated training new people.
“Well, have fun.” Had she really said that? “See you tomorrow.”
It was 7 p.m. She slipped her arms into her thick wool coat. If she hurried, she could catch the 7:13 p.m. bus and be home by 7:30. She hurried downstairs and out the big glass doors onto Sudbury Street. The February wind coming off the bay hit her like shards of broken glass. Holy crap. She took a few steps and then pulled up short when a car crawled up beside her. She tensed.
Someone rolled down the window of a red Ford Thunderbird and leaned across the seat. “Get in.”
Brendan.
She let out a relieved breath, opened the door, and slid into the warm interior. She wrinkled her nose at the slight scent of cigarette smoke that lingered in the air. He’d told her he’d given them up at Christmas.
“New ride?”
“Confiscated from a drug dealer.”
Maybe it wasn’t cigarettes she was smelling. “Figures.”
“Headed home?” he asked.
“Yeah. You?”
“Yeah.”
“Drop me at the transit stop on Congress or give me a ride back to Charlestown? I don’t want to miss my bus.” It was getting late, and dealing with Danny’s brother always brought on a headache.
“I’ll give you a ride home.”
“Were you waiting for me, or was that a lucky coincidence?”
Brendan gave her a grin. He was a good-looking guy. She was grateful for the lack of close resemblance to the man she’d loved. Brendan was heavier. He and Danny shared the same blue eyes, but Brendan’s hair was thinning, and gray threaded the brown. Danny had taken after his Irish mother with thick, almost jet-black hair.
Even after all these years, thoughts of Danny’s smiling face brought a stab of sorrow.
“Ma was asking after you.”
Hope huddled into her coat as the guilt piled up. “Tell Mary I’ll come over when this case is finished.”
Brendan shot her a look that held both understanding and censure. “There’s always another case, Hope.”
She looked away.
Her father-in-law had died three years ago, leaving Mary Harper alone in the small row house in South Boston where she’d raised her boys. Brendan lived in an apartment in East Boston with cheap rent and a million-dollar view.
“I’m going over for Sunday lunch. I can pick you up if you want. Two hours max. You gotta eat, right?”
It was Paige’s birthday on Wednesday, and every year that passed without her child corroded Hope until her bones felt like nothing more than rusted strands of barbed wire.
Paige would have been twelve this year.
Every anniversary was religiously observed by Danny’s family. Sometimes it helped. Sometimes the constant reminders hurt. Her own family were easier to deal with. Just her grandparents nowadays down in Florida, and they respected the loss without zeal. A phone call or a card with a brief message. It was all she needed. All she wanted.
Hope stared out the window at the Charles River as they crossed the North Washington Street Bridge. She was known as a fearless, relentless bulldog in the courtroom and at work, but when it came to Danny’s mom, she was defenseless. Maybe if she hadn’t cost the woman her youngest son and only grandchild it would be easier to loosen the bonds. Pull back enough so she could breathe.
But she couldn’t.
So, she’d choke for two hours on roasted chicken and self-recrimination. Anything else would have disappointed her late husband and even after seven years without him, she couldn’t do that.
“Fine,” she relented, “but I’ll meet you there. One o’clock?”
Brendan scratched his head. “I’ll pick you up at twelve-thirty.”
Hope pinched her lips together and breathed out via her nose. Fine. “How’s Loretta?”
Brendan stared straight ahead. “We broke up.”
“I’m sorry.” Brendan had struggled with relationships since his brother’s murder.
Hope had no desire to even try to find anyone else. What was the point?
“Working on anything interesting?” she asked. Work was the one area they never ran out of things to talk about and didn’t have to pretend they weren’t inherently broken.
“Nasty homicide in the Back Bay area. Looks like a hate crime.”
“Any suspects?”
“Not yet but we have CCTV footage of someone leaving the apartment complex that might lead somewhere.”
“DNA?”
“Still waiting on results.”
Hope nodded. The labs were backed up and results took time. As long as the techs got it right, she didn’t mind a few days wait but when the weeks dragged on, she got snippy. “You still working with Janelli?”
“Yeah.” He shot her a look.
“How’s he doing?”
Brendan shrugged. Grinned. “Good. Still bitching about the DA’s office.”
About her.
Lewis Janelli hated her guts, as did a few other Boston PD officers. Not that she cared, but she liked to keep up with whatever was happening in the police department.
Maybe that’s why Brendan was still a constant part of her life.
Sure.
It was a lie but made her feel better about the lack of control she had over her and her brother-in-law’s relationship. She’d managed to kick everyone else to the curb, but not Brendan or his mother.
Brendan gunned the engine and jumped a yellow light. He hooked a right and turned down Monument Avenue, speeding around the park that housed the Bunker Hill Monument, to the opposite side where Hope shared a large row house with a couple who lived on the bottom floor. She had the upper three levels and a rooftop garden. It was a little excessive for a single woman, but she liked the space. Needed the space.
And she had the money.
Not only had there been life insurance and a settlement from her old law firm when she’d left the partnership, but Danny’s books had taken off after his death. The fact she’d taken over writing his series—which had been released under a pseudonym—was not something the rest of the world needed to know.
Brendan jerked the car to a stop.
She went to get out.
