By Any Means (19 page)

“Sadia and Leena Tahir. They want to visit a girl named Amina.”

“Okay,” said Bowers. “I'll call him.”

“Thanks.”

Ash hung up the phone and helped Hannah fold the rest of the laundry. The load contained mostly towels, so it went quickly. After that, he met Megan outside and pushed her on the swing for a while. They both had fun until Megan jumped out and went flying across the lawn in mock imitation of Superman. A friend of hers had done something similar and broke her arm, so Megan knew what could happen to her. She also knew her parents didn't like her doing it, but she did it anyway. Ash took her inside immediately and made her sit in the naughty chair in the kitchen. Most kids didn't start a rebellious streak until they become teenagers, but Megan had started early. He dreaded the years to come.

As Megan glared at him from the corner of the room, he felt his phone buzz. Ash took it from his pocket and put it to his ear.

“Sergeant Rashid, I'm glad I got you on the phone. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

It was Havelock. Ash looked directly at his daughter. She crossed her arms and screwed up her face. He would have thought it cute had she not been in trouble.

“I can give you six minutes. Maybe twelve if my daughter's attitude doesn't improve.” Megan stuck out her bottom lip, clearly pouting. “Twelve it is.”

“Thank you,” said Havelock hesitantly. “I just received a phone call from Captain Bowers with your request, and I've put Sadia and Leena Tahir on our approved visitor list. They will be allowed full access to Amina during regular visitation hours or whatever hours they can set up with the nursing staff.”

“That's great. Thank you. I'll give them a call and tell them.”

“Before you do,” said Havelock, speaking quickly, “I need to talk to you for a few minutes. I'm in Wishard Hospital right now. Would you be willing to come down here for a conversation?”

Ash raised his eyebrows. “After last night, I'm exhausted. Can we do this some other time?”

“If you're too tired to drive, I'll have a car pick you up.”

Ash paused for a moment. “What's happened?”

“We'll talk about that when you get here.”

He didn't make it sound as if Ash had a choice in the matter.

“I'll head out in a few minutes.”

“Good. See you then.”

Havelock hung up, and Ash leaned against his kitchen counter, thinking and wondering what the FBI agent wanted.

“Can I get up now?”

It took Ash a moment to respond to his daughter's question.

“No. You stay there. I've got to talk to
Ummi
.”

“Fine,” said Megan, sounding exasperated. If she kept doing that, he'd increase her time on the chair. She'd learn eventually, but even at six years old, she displayed a stubbornness that rivaled his own. Sometimes lessons took a little while to sink into her head. Ash went back to the bedroom he and Hannah shared and found his wife putting sheets into the linen closet in their en suite bathroom.

“Hey, honey, I've got to go into work.”

“I was looking forward to you being here for a while,” she said.

“So was I,” said Ash. “But they said they would send a car for me if I didn't go in. It wasn't a request.”

“What's wrong?” she asked, her back straighter than it had been a moment earlier.

“I don't know. If I'm back early enough, I'll make dinner. How's that sound?”

Hannah began refolding a pillowcase. “Sounds like you're threatening me. I've had your food.”

“I'll be back as soon as I can. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said.

He kissed her and then walked to the hallway. Megan peered around the corner near the kitchen, but as soon as she saw him, she ran, presumably back to her chair. Ash followed her back.

“That's three more minutes,” he said, opening the door to the driveway. “I've got to go to work, but
Ummi
's watching.”

She stamped her feet twice. Ash stayed in the doorway, his eyebrows raised.

“Fine.”

“I love you and I'll see you tonight. Okay, sweetheart?”

Megan turned her head away and stared out the window. She'd get over that soon enough. Ash got into his cruiser and started driving. He had gone to law school about a mile from Wishard Hospital, so he knew exactly where to go. When he got to the lobby, a uniformed IMPD officer stood watch beside the information desk. Even for a busy hospital like Wishard, that was unusual. Ash nodded to the officer and then showed his badge to the receptionist. She wore hospital scrubs and had black hair pulled back from her face.

“I'm looking for Special Agent Havelock from the FBI, and I've been told that he's here. Do you know where he is?”

Instead of answering, the receptionist looked at the officer beside the desk.

“Are you Sergeant Rashid?” he asked. Ash nodded. “Agent Havelock asked me to take you upstairs.”

“Sure,” said Ash, smiling at the receptionist. She half-smiled back, but she seemed nervous. He looked back at the officer. “Security's tight today, isn't it?”

“We've had an incident,” he said, walking toward a row of elevators. “If you could please follow me, sir.”

Ash followed, trepidation growing in his gut.
Incidents
worried him. Despite a crowd in the lobby, few people followed them into the elevator. They made two stops before reaching the fourth floor where two men in suits stood outside waiting for them. Their eyes took in everyone in the elevator at a glance but lingered on Ash.

“Agent Havelock is at the nurses' station,” said the officer, holding the elevator door open. Clearly he didn't plan to leave, so Ash stepped forward. The door closed behind him. Ash saw a couple of nurses and doctors in the hallway, but he didn't hear the chattering or footsteps he had heard on earlier floors.

“This way, Sergeant Rashid,” said one of the men in suits, gesturing down the hallway.

“What kind of incident did you have last night?” asked Ash, trying to keep his voice nonchalant. “I assume it wasn't just that the hospital ran out of ice cream.”

“Kevin Havelock will be able to fill you in better than I can.”

Ash clipped his badge to his belt and nodded, following the FBI agent. None of the nurses or doctors that they passed gave him more than a glance. With whatever having happened the night before still fresh in people's minds, a police officer walking around the floor must not have been much of a surprise. When they got about halfway down the hall, Havelock and a woman in a gray pantsuit stepped out of a private room. The woman had brunette hair, lightly tanned skin, and striking blue eyes. Wrinkles had just begun forming around her lips and a few gray strands sprung from her scalp.

“Sorry to interrupt a day off,” said Havelock, nodding to the woman beside him. “This is Clair Eckert. She's an assistant U.S. attorney.”

Clair's eyes passed over him quickly, but she made no move to shake his hand.

“It's very nice to finally meet you, Mr. Rashid,” she said. “Did Konstantin Bukoholov tip you off to the Dandelion Inn?”

Ash considered Clair for a moment and then slipped his hands into the pockets of his pants.

“That's your opening? You're not even going to try to sweet-talk me first?”

Havelock held up a hand and stepped forward. “We've had a long night, Sergeant,” he said. He took a breath and closed his eyes. “Let's start over. Thank you for coming in on a day off. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

“It's Ramadan. I can't drink until sunset.”

“Would it offend you if we had some?” asked Havelock. Ash took a closer look at him. His eyelids drooped and red streaks tinged the whites of his eyes.

“No. What happened?”

“We'll talk in a moment,” he said, motioning toward the agents near the elevator. The man who had escorted Ash jogged toward them. “James, can you get two coffees from the cafeteria? Black.”

“Sure,” said James, nodding.

Havelock turned his attention back to Ash.

“The nurses are letting us use their break room. Come on.”

Ash followed Havelock and Clair to an employee break room beside the floor's nursing station. Oak cabinets hung on two of the walls, and a refrigerator opposite the door hummed loudly. Someone had scattered pictures across a table in the center of the floor. They looked like still images from a surveillance camera, at least one of which hung just a few feet from where they stood.

“This was taken by the elevator,” said Ash, reaching toward the table and picking up a picture of two men in suits. “I just passed the camera on my way here. What happened?”

Clair and Havelock walked to the far side of the table. Clair glared at him, but Havelock's features looked softer. He took a breath.

“Seven of the girls you found in the Dandelion Inn yesterday were removed from the hospital last night.”

“What do you mean ‘removed'?”

“Those men in that picture you just picked up came to the hospital last night and somehow convinced the girls to leave. They brought clothes and makeup. By the time the girls were in the lobby, they looked like regular visitors. No one thought to stop them.”

“Weren't they under guard?”

“Of course they were under guard,” said Clair. “We're not stupid.”

“I'm not saying you are,” said Ash. “I'm just trying to get the facts.”

“There should have been four officers on the floor,” said Havelock. “When you disappeared, your department pulled three of those officers from their post to assist in searching for you.”

Ash swore under his breath. “What about the guy who stayed? Why did he let the girls go?”

Havelock glanced at Clair. She crossed her arms.

“The two men who came claimed to be FBI agents acting under my authority. They had falsified credentials and a signed order they claimed was from a judge. They looked legit.”

Ash panned his gaze to Clair. “How'd they find your name?”

A vein beneath Clair's eye twitched. His old boss's eye had done the same thing when he really pissed her off.

“Probably from my department's website. Why does it matter?”

Ash took a step back. “I'm just trying to figure out what happened and what everyone's place is here. What do you need from me?”

“We want to know how you found the Dandelion Inn,” she said. “And we want to know right now.”

“And your assumption is that Konstantin Bukoholov told me,” said Ash.

“Are we wrong?” asked Havelock.

Ash considered his answer for a moment. “Someone delivered an envelope containing passports, brochures for a student exchange program, and the address of the Dandelion Inn to my house yesterday.”

“And that made you decide to drive out there?” asked Clair. “An envelope?”

“Not by itself,” said Ash. “I didn't see the man who dropped it off, but my wife's description matched Bukoholov's brother-in-law. I went to the inn because, as despicable as he is, Bukoholov is a good source of information. When he suggests I look at something, it's usually worth looking at.”

Clair's lips moved, but no sound came out for the first few moments. “You do realize what he does for a living?”

“Yes,” said Ash. “And one day I hope to put him in prison for it. In the meantime, if he tells me something that might save someone's life, I'm going to act on it.”

“And what does Mr. Bukoholov get out of this arrangement?”

Ash forced himself to smile. “He doesn't usually tell me.”

“And yet you still do exactly what he wants,” said Clair. “Not knowing the consequences at all.”

“We don't get to make that choice. If I can prevent an innocent person from being hurt, I will, even if that means Bukoholov flourishes because of what I've done. That's the trade-off. It's dirty, but that's life.”

Clair leaned forward. “Not anymore, it's not. Marvin Spencer's going to turn on his boss. I'm confident of that, which means that despite everything you've done for Konstantin Bukoholov, we're going to get him.”

It took Ash a moment to remember that Spencer was the meathead Sheriff Davis had arrested at the Dandelion Inn the day before.

“If Marvin Spencer says Bukoholov ran the Dandelion Inn, why am I here?” Ash waited, but Clair didn't respond. “He's not talking, is he?”

“He asked to see a lawyer,” said Clair. “But he will talk. We found significant quantities of blood in the kitchen. Someone died in there. He knows it, and he knows he's going to fry for it.”

“Reading between the lines, you don't even know exactly what to charge him with,” said Ash.

“We're still finding things out,” said Clair. “That's how investigations work.”

“Don't you think it's premature to consider bringing in someone like Bukoholov?”

“If we don't, he's going to come after our girls again. We've got two left, and I'm not going to lose them.”

Ash looked at the table in front of him. “Tell me this. Who is Marvin Spencer's lawyer?”

Clair looked at Havelock.

“He called a firm in Chicago,” said Havelock. “They're licensed in Indiana, so they're driving down now.”

Ash shook his head. “Then you better start looking for a new suspect. Spencer doesn't work for Bukoholov.”

Clair snorted. “And how do you know that?”

“Because Bukoholov keeps John Meyers and Associates on permanent retainer for his employees. They're local. He wouldn't seek outside counsel for a case like this.”

“Do you know that?” asked Havelock. “Or are you speculating?”

“I'm pretty certain,” said Ash, raising his eyebrows. “Bukoholov told me about a year and a half ago. I doubt he's changed since.”

Clair shook her head. “You're unbelievable.”