Chapter Seven
Mac entered SIOC and immediately knew from the high level of activity that something was up.
He slipped into the media room where agents simultaneously watched fifty different TV channels and monitored trends on social media. In today’s world, stories were not broken by reporters from news organizations. They were broken by eyewitnesses with cell phones and service in a twenty-four-hour news cycle.
“What’s going on?” he asked Libby Hernandez, the analyst ASC Gerald had introduced him to yesterday.
She looked up from her seat. “Local DJ was found murdered after she left her radio station around eleven-thirty this morning.”
Mac checked out the monitors. Droves of reporters were camped out on a street about a five-minute drive away.
“What do we know?” Gerald appeared at his shoulder. The chatter from one of the sound feeds coming through the speakers had drowned out the noise of the other man coming into the room.
Hernandez typed furiously on her keyboard and the volume decreased. “Sonja Shiraz hosted ‘Sunrise with Sonja’ every weekday morning on Radio WDC. Nine-one-one call came in from a member of the public saying they found a body in an alley. A paramedic recognized the vic.”
Mac’s gaze scanned the monitors and the newsfeed, taking in the buzz. The murder of a public figure was shocking but it wasn’t this shocking. “What am I missing?”
“Sonja Shiraz’s former name was Sanjay Patel,” Hernandez told him.
“Transgender?” A sinking feeling entered his gut.
Hernandez nodded. “She detailed the whole transition experience on her show and on her blog. Generated a huge following.”
“And a lot of hate mail, I bet.” Mac’s gaze flicked over the screens. First a black federal judge, now a transgender DJ, all within two days? He didn’t like it. “I’d like to go take a look—”
Gerald was shaking his head. “I know what you’re thinking, but three murders in two days isn’t that unusual.”
“All high-profile potential hate targets?”
“No evidence to suggest either were hate crimes, let alone that the murders are connected.”
“Was she shot?” Mac asked.
“Unfortunately, getting shot isn’t that unusual either.” Gerald pressed his lips together. “WFO weren’t happy with you turning up at their crime scene yesterday. I got a call from their SAC telling us to butt out.”
“I offered help. I didn’t tread on any toes.” Mac rolled his eyes. He hated politics.
“How would you have felt if some headquarters’ suit insinuated himself into one of your inquiries?”
“Pissed, but I don’t need a friendship badge from the Brownies. I can help solve these crimes. I know how these guys think.”
“WFO?” Gerald queried.
Mac laughed. “Right wing extremists.” At Gerald’s doubtful expression Mac continued, “I spent a year undercover during the investigation into David Hines’s Pioneers organization.” At Gerald’s surprised expression, he added, “It was before I joined the FBI.”
Several people nearby were listening hard to their conversation but this wasn’t a secret. It just wasn’t common knowledge.
“That was back in the mid-nineties. What, were you in diapers?”
“It was my first undercover job.” Mac scratched the back of his neck. “I was a little wet behind the ears, I’ll admit. That’s why they chose me. The Pioneers never imagined a goofy cowboy was also an undercover cop.”
“You must have had a hell of a resume by the time you joined the FBI.” There was grudging respect in Gerald’s tone now.
“I was lucky I wasn’t strung up by my balls,” Mac told him honestly. “After the shootout, my identity was kept out of the reports because of fears of reprisals from the surviving members. The assholes all turned on one another anyway so they didn’t need my testimony.” Mac curbed his impatience as the media room danced around them. “The thing is, during my time with them David Hines often discussed his ‘manifesto.’ First thing on it was kill a federal judge. The next was kill a prominent black man.” He tucked in his chin. “Obviously they used a more derogatory term than ‘black.’”
ASC Gerald’s mouth firmed. “Obviously.”
“I forget the exact phrasing but I can find it in my notes. Next on the list were prominent figures who sympathized with homosexuals, Jews, Mexicans, Arabs, abortionists, followed by any cop, federal official or politician they could get their hands on. Last but not least, POTUS himself.”
He let that sink in.
These assholes had been eager to kill their president regardless of his politics or ideology—just for being the man in the White House. There had already been one attempt on President Hague’s life—Mac had been on scene for that and it had ripped out his insides. The idea of a second attempt pissed him off.
“The Pioneers were not alone in their antigovernment rhetoric in the nineties, and white nationalists and extremist groups have been on the rise for the last decade,” Gerald said slowly.
“It would be wise to warn other agencies to increase their levels of alertness.”
Gerald scanned the screens, then crossed his arms over his chest. “Agreed, but I can’t sign off on your deeper involvement in this. If there’s a connection between Judge Thomas and the DJ the ME will notify the field office and they’ll deal with it. Until we have some viable indication it’s a hate crime, we stay out of it.”
Mac nodded and followed him out of the media room into the quieter hallway. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed but knew better than to show it.
“Hostage fusion cell wanted to talk to you about ways of increasing networking between negotiators across the county.” Gerald seemed busy and distracted. Running SIOC must be complicated enough without some newbie stirring the pot.
“I’ll get right on that.” Which would take him a couple of hours tops. Mac reined in his frustration and tried to quash the eagerness to get involved in every case. He needed to focus on his career.
He headed off to where the small group of guys from HRT and the Crisis Negotiation Unit hung out in one of the breakout rooms at the back of the National Assets Command Room. This room was the place where all the experts would gather if there was ever a nuclear bomb on the ground in the US. Thankfully it was quiet. Hopefully it would stay that way.
The room itself was a reminder that SIOC brought together the best of the best in a small space. It was the waiting part that killed him and he missed the hands-on rush of running an investigation. Special Agent in Charge by forty, he reminded himself as he searched out Eban Winters, one of the best negotiators in the world and head of the hostage fusion cell at SIOC.
Mac’s phone dinged and he looked down and saw Heather was now angry-texting him.
Nice.
He’d rather deal with a hundred white supremacists than deal with his ex, which said more about him than it did about her. She’d done him a favor by having an affair with her boss. He plainly wasn’t cut out to be the romantic lead in someone else’s happily ever after. He’d rather arrest the bad guys.
* * *
Tess placed her laptop on the kitchen table and eased out of her coat. Cole was putting the trash out on the curb for garbage day. She started through to the den, determined to accidentally come across this file folder and get her questions answered so she could quit worrying.
She collided with a hard, male body that nearly knocked her off her feet. Joseph, her brother’s best friend, grabbed her by the upper arms and held her against him.
“Well, hello, beautiful.” He smiled down at her. “I finally get my hands on the lovely Tess.” Joseph leaned closer. “Cole’s not here, but you’re welcome to keep me company while you wait for him.” His hands were large and warm and started to drift down her waist toward her ass.
She jerked out of his grip and took a step away. “I’m good. Thank you.”
“Oh, you are better than good, Tess. You are perfect. You wanna come to my birthday party next weekend? I’ll feed you chocolate cake. I know you like chocolate cake.”
He flustered her and unsettled her but she realized a tiny part of her was flattered by the attention. That’s what happened when you dated losers. She did not intend to encourage him. She crossed her arms. “Your nineteenth birthday party.” She raised a knowing brow at him. She was thirty for heaven’s sake.
He dropped his voice to a murmur. “But it’s only cake, Tess.” Except he said the word ‘cake’ like he was licking it off her naked skin.
The door opened behind her.
“There he is now.” Joseph walked over to the refrigerator. “Want a beer, Cole? Tess?”
“Sure.” Her brother threw his jacket on the back of a kitchen chair.
Tess checked the clock. It wasn’t even four o’clock. “You guys remember you’re underage, correct?”
“Seriously?” Joseph handed Cole a bottle, ignoring her protests. “We’re old enough to go to war, and have sex,” his eyes lingered on her chest, “but not drink a beer? Live a little, Tess.”
He held out a bottle to her in challenge, but she hadn’t been peer-pressured since high school when she’d been caught taking her one and only puff of a cigarette by her favorite gym teacher.
“No. Thank you.” She smiled tightly. “Those of us who work for a living have things to do.”
“Ouch.” Joseph gave a wince. “Your sister’s killing me, dude.”
Cole laughed. “She has your number. Did you go to class today?”
“Three classes and I finished an assignment. Where were you?”
“Had something important to do,” Cole muttered evasively, flushing.
He’d skipped class? He never skipped class. She watched him anxiously as he avoided her gaze.
Joseph took a long pull of beer. “I’m supposed to have a date tonight but I might ditch it.”
“You going to let the lady in question know you’re bailing or should we expect angry texts?” Cole asked sardonically.
Joseph sent Tess an assessing look. “I haven’t decided yet. What do you think, Tess?”
Tess tried to keep her face expressionless. “Treat her with respect. If you’re not going to show up, at least tell her. No one wants to look stupid being stood up—especially if she actually likes you enough to go on a date with you.”
“She asked me.” His smile said this happened a lot.
Women would find him attractive. “How would you feel if she stood you up?”
He shrugged like it was no big deal. “I’d find someone else to take home.”
She blew out a gusty breath. The more she discovered about men the less she liked the species.
Footsteps thundered down the stairs as Zane and Dave joined the party.
“Hey, Tess.” Zane gave her a sly grin and Dave blushed. Zane was all silky, black hair and long, lean muscle. He was the captain of the soccer team and had one of those faces that could easily transition into a modeling contract. Dave was a stocky redhead from Oklahoma who morphed into a demon defender on the pitch.
Their gazes went to where Cole stood in the kitchen. “Wanna play Medal of Honor?” Zane asked Cole. “We’re gonna have a tournament.”
Her brother looked like he was about to say yes.
“Nope,” she interrupted. “Cole and I need to finish his taxes.”
Joseph spluttered into his beer. “Kill me now.”
“Tempting,” Tess smiled sharply, “but I want to get this done first.”
Her brother laughed. Zane and Joseph chuckled. The three young men vied for the best position on the couch while she and Cole went through into the den. Cole woke up his laptop and colored a little at the screensaver featuring a topless woman.
“Crap. Sorry.” He quickly inputted his password. Tess tried to see what it was but he was way too fast.
Apparently, her nerdy little brother had discovered the opposite sex in a big way. His roommates weren’t what you’d call shy. She dreaded to think the sort of trouble they could get Cole into.
As long as it wasn’t enough to get them arrested, she’d deal.
“I just want the household bill totals for the year,” she told him. “Utilities, internet, phone, insurance, mortgage, bank charges and interest. And any other expenses or income you might have forgotten to mention.”
Cole opened the filing drawer and began a methodic search through the files. Her OCD brain itched as he haphazardly shoved things back into the wrong place. She leaned over the desk and peered into the drawer, silently urging him to pull out the black file with the judge’s photo in it so she could ask what the hell it was.
Cole glanced up and eyed her quizzically. “You all right, sis?”
“Sure,” she said, brightly. Too brightly.
He directed a glare toward the doorway and Tess turned her head to find Joseph standing there enjoying the view. Dammit. She straightened up from the desk.
“Spoilsport,” Joseph joked.
“Go leer at someone else,” Cole told him in disgust.
“Excellent idea. Maybe I’ll call your girlfriend,” Joseph said. “Give me her number.”
Cole gave Joseph the finger.
“So you do have a girlfriend?” asked Tess.
Joseph chuckled and turned away.
“Nope.” Cole didn’t look up but she could tell he wasn’t telling the truth from the way his ears started to glow.
“Do I know her?” she pressed, genuinely curious as to why he wouldn’t tell her.
“No.”
“Who is it?”
“Drop it, Tess,” he snapped.
She flinched.
He carried on searching, his movements jerky, but missing the files she needed.
She drummed her fingers impatiently on his desk.
“Do you want to search for this stuff?” Cole stared pointedly, clearly irritated.
She ignored the fact he was being facetious and took the opportunity to come around to his side of the desk and start looking through the drawer herself.
He rolled his chair back as she quickly pulled out files. The tightness of his jaw told her he was mad with her, but when she caught his gaze his expression softened.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
“But you don’t want to talk about her,” Tess said quietly.
“Exactly.”
“I shouldn’t have pried.”
He raised his eyes to the ceiling, then scrubbed his face. He glanced at his roommates and friends drinking beer in front of the PlayStation and sighed.
“There’s an age difference. She doesn’t want anyone to know we’re seeing each other.”
“She’s older?” Tess wondered if the woman was married but feared she’d be pushing it too far by asking.
He tucked in his chin and squinted at her. “You think I’d date a high school student?”
He was right. He’d be twenty next month. Younger would be an absolute nightmare and remind her too much of darker times. He wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.
“How much older?” she tried to sound nonchalant.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not saying anything else. I already told you more than I should.”
Tess studied him. “Just be careful, okay?”
“Are you giving me the ‘safe sex’ talk?” He cocked a brow.
She groaned. “Do I have to?”
He shook his head.
“Good. I meant be careful with your heart. And hers.”
His eyes narrowed. “Jason was a complete jackass. You know that, right?”
A lump formed in her throat and she went back to the files to hide the fact he’d hit a nerve. “And I really do not want to waste another thought on him.”
“We’re not all dicks, you know.” Cole opened up his email browser and let her finish what she needed to do. Her fingers moved fast and furious over the tabs, but the file with the photograph of the dead judge was gone.
Where the hell was it?
She re-examined all the folders and checked it hadn’t gotten tucked inside another one. It wasn’t there. What did that mean?
A flash of purple caught her eye at the bottom of the drawer. The data stick. Some unknown force made her reach down and palm the device. She sat back on her heels. “I think that’s everything I need. Let’s go into the kitchen and pull the final figures and I promise to leave you alone for another year.”
Cole griped. “How long is it gonna take?”
“A couple of hours tops. You have a hot date?”
He grunted. “None of your business.”
Her fingers tightened around the data stick.
Cole checked his watch and growled. “I hate taxes!”
She winced. “No one likes taxes, Cole.”
“Except accountants like you. And the IRS.” His good humor returned. She got to her feet, grateful he was joking. When Cole moved to walk in front of her she slipped the data stick into her pants pocket. When she looked up Dave was watching her through suspicious eyes.
She picked up the armful of papers and followed her brother through the living room.
“Does this mean the rent is going up?” Dave eyed the pile of paperwork dubiously.
Zane laughed but didn’t look away from the screen. “Cole’s designing a new app that’s gonna make him a freaking billionaire.”
“What kind of app?” Tess observed her brother with interest.
“Nothing.” Cole glared at his buddy. Obviously being secretive was becoming a thing. Then he went into the kitchen and started noisily clearing away dishes.
“Well, when he’s a billionaire he’ll still have to pay taxes,” Tess said evenly.
“The only thing certain in life are death and taxes, am I right?” Joseph smiled, but there was a hard edge to his handsome face.
“Considering how many people try to cheat the IRS, I’d say the only certain thing in life is death and I’m hoping to avoid that for the next few decades at least.”
“Make sure you enjoy the moment, Tess,” Joseph advised. “You never know how long you’ve got.” That little bit of wisdom coming from such a consummate player should have sounded flippant, but for once Joseph sounded remarkably somber.
She gave him a slight smile. “I’ll enjoy the moment as soon as tax season is over.”
His eyes moved back to the video game, but then he leered at her with his habitual smirk. “I’m available to help you out with that if you ever require a naked shoulder rub.”
“I’m more than ten years older than you,” she bit out with exasperation.
He grinned. “A woman approaching her prime.”
She rolled her eyes.
He stood suddenly, looming over her. “You seriously have an issue with the age difference?”
She had an issue with a whole lot of things regarding this young man. “I simply think the idea of a thirty-year-old having a relationship with a college student is a little gross.”
“You wouldn’t even blink if it was the guy who was older.”
She did blink, unable to believe she was being lectured on gender equality by Mr. One-night stand, but she would still find it a bit distasteful for a thirty-year-old guy to be dating a freshman. Shaking her head, she entered the kitchen, just in time to see her brother’s angry scowl, a split second before he slammed out of the house.
Dammit.
She put the folders on the kitchen table and raised her eyes skywards. How could she be so insensitive? Now he’d never open up to her about his new girlfriend.
She glanced over her shoulder to see Joseph standing with his shoulder braced against the doorway. He gave her a “what can you do?” shrug, then went back to the TV when she glared at him.
Torn between going after her brother and just getting this over with, Tess sat down and put in her earbuds. The sooner she was done with Cole’s taxes the sooner she’d be out of here and dealing with her fee-paying clients who didn’t make it their life’s mission to screw with her.
She didn’t want to think about the photo of the dead judge or the thumb drive burning a hole in her pocket. Maybe she’d imagined the file? Maybe she was losing her mind? It happened to accountants around tax time.
She turned on her radio app to listen to the local news in the hopes they’d caught the killer of Judge Thomas and his wife. Instead, the presenter started talking about the murder of a prominent DJ that morning. There was speculation it was carried out by the same person who’d shot the judge.
Despite the fact another person was dead a huge wave of relief crashed over her. She’d been following Cole on the metro when the DJ had been shot. Not that she really believed her brother had been involved. Not really. But hoping and knowing were two different things.
She bit her lip as a fresh wave of guilt assaulted her. It was time to tell her brother the truth about so many things but maybe she’d wait until he was less pissed with her. Everything she’d done she’d done for him, but now the secrets and lies were piling up and, if she wasn’t careful, they’d bury the love they’d always had for one another.
* * *
Mac breathed out slow and steady and squeezed the trigger like he was stroking a woman’s G-spot, with just enough pressure to make her go bang. He hit the target dead center and then again, another fifteen times at twenty-five yards, firing until the magazine was empty.
He checked the target in satisfaction.
He’d gotten into the habit of coming to the shooting range on a daily basis when he’d first joined the Bureau. Not only did it keep his skills sharp—agents were required to qualify with their Bureau-issued firearm at least four times a year and needed over eighty percent to qualify—it was also a time when his thoughts slowed and his mind cleared. Ironically, it was where he had most mental breakthroughs on cases.
Meditation via hot lead.
This time he reloaded his service weapon with frangible bullets that the firearms instructor wanted to use up as the Bureau was transitioning from the Glock-22 .40 caliber across to the 9mm. He forced himself to relax and not to think about investigations that weren’t even his. The murders bothered him. They showed no mercy or compassion for the victims, and he’d seen this kind of blind hatred before. It took a special breed of sociopath to pull off that kind of calculated outrage.
The investigators had little to go on. No CCTV footage. No mode of transport or tire tracks. No eyewitnesses. No trace. No DNA.
Mac blanked his mind of everything except the target. He began firing rapidly, putting the bullet dead center in the target. Twelve rounds. Thirteen. And his mind suddenly flipped to a vision of a dark-haired young girl, blowing the barrel of her revolver seconds after wiping the floor with her brothers on their makeshift gun range.
His shot went wild. Shit. It had been a long time since he’d thought about that kid.
The instructor closest to him hitched a brow in surprise. Mac never missed the target. He put the last shot where it was supposed to be.
“What happened?” the guy asked as they removed their ear protectors.
Mac grimaced. “Sneezed.”
The instructor jerked his chin in acknowledgement, but Mac felt like an idiot. He wasn’t about to admit to his mind wandering while firing his weapon.
He bent down to clear the range. Other agents were doing the same thing, picking up their brass. He nodded to a couple of agents he’d seen around SIOC. One was a nice-looking brunette with blue eyes who sent him a smile that suggested she was single.
Even as he smiled back that little girl’s impish grin flashed through his mind again. God, she’d been cute. Unspoiled despite her family’s best efforts to take her with them on the crazy train. He wondered where she was now.
David Hines’s ideology wasn’t startling or unique. It was shared by thousands of others who feared they were diminished in some way by people they didn’t understand. But the manifesto itself had been fairly specific, ending with an attack on the White House. The details of the manifesto had never been released to the public although it hadn’t been a secret amongst the Pioneers’ members. Law enforcement had never recovered Hines’s original handwritten version. Some white supremacist was probably out there somewhere jacking off to it like porn.
These latest killings in DC didn’t religiously follow Hines’s outline. Instead they’d combined target groups and accelerated the process. Or maybe it was a coincidence.
These weren’t his cases. He’d been told to keep out of it. But he understood more about the Pioneers than anyone outside the group. May as well do a little digging—at least find out where the main players were currently hanging out. And, yes, the idea of breaking this case wide open appealed to his ego. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t.
A vision of young Ellie Hines’s dead body flashed through his mind as it had so often through the years. Her “husband” had shot her in the back as she’d tried to run away from his cabin during the raid. Autopsy revealed she’d been sixteen weeks pregnant.
At least Theresa Jane and her baby brother had survived.
Hell, she’d be thirty now. Probably married with kids of her own. That made him feel old. And while the men had been evil personified, it had been the women who’d made his flesh crawl with more extreme beliefs and seemingly endless commitment to the cause. Francis Hines had reminded him of a serpent, with less warmth. She’d never fully trusted him and he was pretty sure part of the reason David Hines kept him around was to deflect some of her ire.
Had Theresa Jane grown up like her mother with hate in her heart, nurturing the desire for revenge? Had the baby, Bobby, grown up believing his family had been unlawfully gunned down by the big bad Feds?
It was possible.
He’d lost track of the kids once they’d gone into foster care. Rather than going home he’d go back to the office and start digging around. There were plenty of survivors. The only fatalities had been those in the main cabin who’d started a gunfight, and poor innocent Ellie. Harlan Trimble had set fire to his cabin in an effort to disguise her murder, but the State Police had figured it out.
Harlan was doing life, but telling anyone who’d listen he’d been set up by the cops.
Asshole.
Mac dumped the spent shells into the bins provided, then reloaded his duty weapon with hollow points and headed to the elevator.
“Nice shooting.” The pretty brunette caught up with him and smiled when he held the elevator for her. Another woman got in beside them. She was blonde and stiff looking, like if she smiled her face might crack. He held the door for two more agents and wished he could find the enthusiasm to return the brunette’s interest.
“U can’t touch this” by MC Hammer rang out through the elevator and one of the guys grinned. Mac took out his cell and turned off the ringer without answering. Dammit.
“I recognize that sentiment,” the man said. “Ex-girlfriend?”
Mac grimaced. “Ex-wife.” He didn’t want his personal life to become a talking point.
“You new to HQ? I haven’t seen you around.” The man held out his hand in greeting. “I’m ASC Reece Jackson. Counterintelligence.”
Mac introduced himself to the other agents in the elevator. The pretty brunette, Paula Rice, had smooth, warm skin and held his hand a fraction too long.
The blonde’s eyes flickered over him nervously. Her name was Fiona Green and she was from Records Management Division. And looks were deceptive because he’d seen her shoot the balls off a fruit fly at twenty-five paces.
Jackson handed Mac his card. “If you wanna grab a beer sometime, give me a call.” The guy exited on the third floor as did everyone except SA Paula Rice.
He felt her eyeing him as they continued up to five.
“I’m on the dayshift at SIOC so I’ve seen you around.” Her eyes were a dark navy. “I mainly supervise computer techs.” Just before the elevator doors opened Paula handed him her card. “Ditto to what ASC Jackson said—if you ever need a coffee break with a friendly face give me a call.” The way she held his gaze suggested she could be very friendly.
“Thanks.” He slipped the card into his pocket and gave her his in return but had no intention of calling.
Getting involved with someone from work was a bad idea and, where women were concerned, he was no longer open to bad ideas. Nothing but good times and smooth sailing ahead.
Sure.