Black Flagged (The Black Flagged Technothriller Series) (22 page)

"Will someone fucking sit on her legs!" the officer attempting to cuff her shouted, and another SWAT officer edged past the refrigerator and nearly jumped down on her legs.

The woman cried out in pain and gave it one more try, nearly toppling the guy working on her hands. She was strong, and Edwards felt strangely aroused. He wanted to be on top of her and had to use every ounce of self-restraint he possessed to keep himself from making the suggestion. They'd laugh him out of the house, and frankly, he was better off where he stood. Right now, she looked like she could snap him in half.

"Hit her with the stun gun!" the officer on her back yelled, then mumbled, "Calm this bitch down."

"Sergeant! We need to hit her with the zapper!" another officer yelled into the house.

Sergeant Jimmy Haldron ran into the kitchen from the family room, pushed Edwards aside, and quickly assessed the situation. He leaned down toward the woman's head to speak to her.

"Hey, calm down, ma'am. This is over. There's nothing you can do about your situation right now, except calm down. We don't want to hurt you, but we need you to take it easy. We're not here for you, and if you calm down, you'll be released once we finish our job here. Can you help me with this?" he said, in a calm, authoritative voice.

The woman stopped twisting and seemed to melt into the flooring. The officer on her back pressed down harder, yanking the twist ties deeply into her wrists, causing her to gasp.

"Donnelly! Take it easy," Sergeant Haldron said and gave him a pissed off look.

"We'll get those off you soon. Everyone is a little amped up here," he said.

Edwards decided he would step in at this point and take charge of the situation, now that SWAT was no longer needed. He couldn't wait to dismiss these idiots from the scene.

"Sergeant, have your men move her over into the family room, on the couch. I assume Petrovich isn't here?" Edwards said.

"No. His car is gone, and the house is clear. My teams are checking for hidden compartments," he said and directed orders to his men, "Get her up, and bring her over here."

"Have your men start working the neighborhood for leads. I'll deal with her," Edwards said, excited about starting his interrogation of Jessica Petrovich.

"My men aren't going door to door. We've got detectives and patrol officers for that. You want a couple of my guys to stand by while you talk to her?" Haldron said, looking him square in the eye.

"Probably not a bad idea. She seems a little feisty," Edwards admitted.

"Feisty? She came at me with some kind of judo chop," the officer pinning her head to the floor said.

"This Nazi stormtrooper tried to butt stroke me with his rifle. I was just standing there," the woman hissed.

"She came at me with a weapon," the officer said.

"I was about to have some yogurt when you crashed through the glass. Sorry if I couldn't react fast enough to drop the spoon in my hand," she said, in a voice muffled by her squished face.

Edwards glanced at the wet floor between her waist and the counter cabinets, and spotted a small spoon protruding from under her body. He chuckled and turned to Sergeant Haldron.

"I'll have my techs bag up the spoon she used against your officers," he said, pointing at the silverware next to her body.

Nobody laughed, and he heard a few mumbled "fuck you's," but he didn't care. They would never respect him, and he would always resent their type. He had better things to do with his time, and one of those things was Daniel Petrovich's wife. When they lifted her off the kitchen floor, he got really excited. She was beautiful, almost exotic, possibly Middle Eastern. Their eyes locked for a moment, and he would have sworn her murderous glare softened. He couldn't wait to break the news to her that her husband was wanted by the FBI for murder and terrorism. He'd watch her world crumble and her self-esteem evaporate, then he'd offer her a shoulder to cry on, and maybe a drink down in that crummy little downtown area they call the Old Port. Maybe this trip wouldn't be such a waste of time after all.

"We're not here for her. Take it easy," Edwards said.

One of the officers holding her hissed in her ear, "Just make a move and I'll bust up that pretty face."

"Sergeant Haldron!" Edwards yelled, and Haldron walked over to intervene.

"What do you need?" Haldron said, clearly sick of Edwards.

"I just need some professionalism. And I need you to control your men. Now sit her down on the couch and remove her restraints," Edwards said, staring at one of the officers holding her.

"Are you fucking kidding me? We just busted our asses getting this one under control," the same officer said.

"I don't think that would be a good idea," Sergeant Haldron said, and a few other officers chimed in from the kitchen.

Edwards walked briskly past the officers, pushing his way through to the back of the kitchen. At this point, he had experienced enough of their insubordination. They were undermining his authority with the witness and sabotaging his carefully laid plans to coax information out of her. These goons had no idea that nothing else mattered at this point. Only Jessica Petrovich held the key to finding her husband, and if he didn't play the situation right, she'd shut down for good. He grabbed a pair of kitchen shears from the knife rack and walked up to Jessica, who was still in the grips of two very large, heavily geared officers.

"Move out of the way," he said, and the two officers let go of Jessica.

Edwards cut her plastic restraints and tossed the scissors to the floor behind him. He lingered close to her, and her smell was intoxicating. He felt himself starting to float away from the scene and needed to ground himself. She was incredible.

"Sorry about this. Why don't you grab a seat on the couch," he said softly, before turning to Haldron.

"I don't want any of these guys in here. Understood?"

"You want to be in here alone with this one?" Haldron asked.

Edwards considered Haldron's comment and decided that it held no double entendre. He wanted to be alone with this woman more than anyone could possibly know, but that's not what Haldron meant. Couldn't be. They thought she was dangerous.

"I think she'll be fine without someone trying to smash her skull in," Edwards said.

"She was holding a weapon!" an officer from the kitchen yelled.

"She was holding a spoon, dummy," Edwards said.

"Hey. Take it easy on my men. They don't have the luxury of walking into a cleared structure. They go in first and have no idea what they'll find. I didn't notice you rushing in behind them," Haldron said.

"I didn't want to get shot…by them," Edwards said, and Haldron looked like he might lose his composure.

Standing peacefully in front of the couch, Jessica regarded them both, showing a small sign of smiling at Edwards.

"I'll give you some privacy here, but as long as Portland police officers are required on the scene, I'll keep some of my guys posted to keep an eye on her."

"That's fine, Sergeant," Edwards said and turned to Jessica.

"Please. Have a seat. Are you all right? I saw some glass on the floor," he said, walking over to her.

"I think I'm okay. I just haven't had any time to process what's happening. Someone said something about my husband being a murderer. What's going on here? Who's going to pay for everything they've broken? Look, I…"

"Take it easy, Mrs. Petrovich. You need to take a few moments to sit back and relax…"

"Is my husband okay? Did something happen to him?" she said, rubbing her face with her hands.

Her eyes were red, and he could see that she was starting to tear up. Fortunately for Edwards, she wore no make up to ruin the face with running streaks. God, she was stunning. Angular face, dark exotic skin, or she tanned a lot. Either way, he didn't care. He didn't care how she got there. The dark skin, killer looks and kick boxer physique was all he needed. He was glad to know that Petrovich wouldn't be fucking her anymore. He couldn't stand the thought of someone else entangled in those legs. He had his work cut out for him, but he was starting to feel confident about his chances of seeing her naked tonight.

"Ms. Petrovich…"

"Jess. Please call me Jess. What's going on with my husband?"

"It's complicated," Edwards said, taking a seat on the leather chair next to the couch.

He could move over to the couch if she started crying, but didn't want to seem eager to get close to her.

"Is he safe? What were these guys expecting to find?" she pressed.

"I don't know how to put this, but your husband is the prime suspect in a federal murder investigation," he said.

"That doesn't make any sense, Agent…?"

"Edwards. But just call me Justin."

"Justin, none of this makes any sense. I think you all have the wrong house, or something isn't right," she said, looking around the room, frightened.

At this point, though only a few officers lingered in the family room with them, dozens of officers had poured into the house over the past few minutes and more were entering. Since the house wasn't considered a crime scene, the Portland police wouldn't tiptoe through her house. This would only get worse as they tore the place apart looking for hidden compartments or clues linking Daniel Petrovich to the murders and the past life he had hidden from his wife. He might need to get her out of here soon. She would find it hard to concentrate on him once his team started taking photos out of the frames for scanning.

"Jessica, how long have you and your husband been married?" Edwards asked, though he knew the answer would somehow eat away at something inside of him.

He glanced at a wedding photo sitting on a dark wood side table next to the couch. The picture had been taken with the ocean in the background. He thought it looked like the East Coast, somewhere north. Possibly right here in Maine.

"What do you…we've been married for four years," she said.

"Have you known each other for a long time?"

"Long enough to know that you guys have made a serious mistake. This is ridiculous. We're talking about having kids, and…does my husband have a lawyer yet? Maybe I shouldn't be talking to you right now. I need to see my husband," she said, stringing each sentence together one after the other quickly.

Edwards needed to diffuse the lawyer talk quick. She wasn't a suspect and technically didn't need one, but if she shut down on him and contacted a lawyer, he knew exactly what kind of advice the lawyer will give her: Shut up. He had limited time to work on this one and hoped to wrap things up tonight, in more ways than one. He didn't need some lawyer cooling things off.

"Jess, Jess," he soothed, "I know this is a lot to take in, and I'm sorry you got roughed up here tonight, but we don't have much time to help your husband."

"What do you mean help him? Where is he?" she said, confused.

"That's the problem. Nobody knows where he is. Can you help us with this? When did you see him last?" he said and shifted a little closer to her.

"This morning before work. He left me a message in the morning saying he had to fly to D.C. to meet with one of his company's clients. Something last minute. I was supposed to meet some friends out for drinks after work, but he always calls me, so I got a little worried. I went for a run instead. He must have something big going on at work. He didn't sound like himself," Jessica admitted.

Edwards thought this might be easier than he had expected. She had already given him information that could narrow their search for Petrovich, which surprised him. He had expected her to hold stuff like this from him, but for some reason she didn't hesitate. Maybe their marriage wasn't as solid as all of the pictures might indicate. She was clearly a little pissed that he had taken off without calling and was willing to give up some general details. When she found out the true scope of his betrayal, he wondered if she might give him up completely. He didn't believe for one second that she didn't know exactly where they could find Petrovich, and now he was willing to bet she would cough him up given the right information about her husband.

"Did he give you any more details?" he said, hoping he might get lucky.

"No. He just said he had to fly unexpectedly to D.C. to meet with…" she said and stopped cold. "What exactly is he suspected of?" she snapped.

"Jess, he's a prime suspect in the murder of Mohammed Ghani. He was killed last night just a few miles from here in Cape Elizabeth. I was at the scene earlier today, and it wasn't pretty. Whoever killed him knew exactly what they were doing," Edwards said.

"I must be missing something here. How the fuck is my husband a suspect in that?" she said, raising her voice to the point that a few black helmets leaned into the room.

"I wish I could go into that more, but the details are classified for now. I'll say this though," he said and leaned in close enough to smell her, "and you need to keep it to yourself for now," he whispered.

She nodded quizzically and leaned in further, which drove his senses crazy. He felt a wave of raw physical energy pass through him and nearly shuddered. Blood started to immediately flow to his groin, and he felt a tingling in his legs as he grew erect. He had to stop this, but he didn't want to move away from her. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to strip her down in bed. He moved back slightly, afraid he might lose control, and regained enough of his senses to continue talking to her. Only a few women had affected him like this before, and he'd enjoyed dominating them in bed. This one would be no exception to Justin's conquests, but first he had some work to do.

"Your husband's name came up on a list of former covert military operatives connected to the murders. Have you seen the news today? Eight prominent Arab businessmen were killed last night," he said and let this sink in, studying her face for a reaction.

She looked confused for a few seconds, but this changed when she started to speak. "This is crazy. I know my husband, and I can assure you this is a major fuck up. I want everyone out of my house right now!" she yelled and stood up from the couch.