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Authors: Liliana Hart

Tags: #Fiction, #Thrillers, #Medical, #Mystery & Detective, #Women Sleuths, #Romance, #Suspense

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BOOK: Dirty Rotten Scoundrel
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Jack paused and then let out a slow breath, but he didn’t take his eyes off Greer. “When he shot me three times and left me for dead.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

 

 

My head jerked to look at Jack and I stared at him open mouthed with surprise.

“You failed to put that information in your initial report,” Greer said.

Jack shrugged. “He had a wife and two little girls, one of which was
in the middle of experimental chemo treatments at the time. I could put two and two together. And those little girls didn’t deserve to have their father taken off the pedestal they’d put him on. They would have lost both medical and widow’s benefits. He and I were the only two who knew what really happened. Which leads me to ask how you got hold of that information, and it’s obvious this is what you were getting to all along.”

“You realize that I could have you brought up on obstruction charges. Take away your badge.”

“You need me for something. Otherwise you would’ve already done it and I’d have kept my mouth shut. Try again.”

“Your file says you have a tendency to be cocky and
you have issues with authority.”

“Which is why I like being the boss. In my experience, the higher up the food chain you go
, the more idiots and political bullshit you run into.” He turned toward Lauren and gave her a curious stare. “And why are you here? It’s obviously not for my benefit.”

“The Justice Department has an interest in seeing this through.”

Jack raised a brow. “Interesting.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I asked. “She didn’t say anything.”

“It means they have a dog in the fight, but she’s not going to tell us what it is. Why don’t you lay it out for me, Agent Greer?”

“Like you said, they
would have gotten away with the robbery if you hadn’t followed your gut. They had technology and equipment we’d never seen before, they moved and strategized like the military, and they had money backing the expedition. They knew the weak points beneath the building and cut a goddamned hole through the floor with a laser knife out of some sci-fi movie, and they had ATVs waiting below to transport them through the underground sewer system quickly.”


They had the building set with enough explosives to turn it to dust once they’d escaped past the hot zone. They had money and power and talent for the job, and you and your team took every one of them out. At least the body counts we came up with on sight corroborated with the statements you and your team gave. But we think we maybe missed someone.”

“Seven men, seven bodies recovered,” Jack said. “Who could we have missed?”

“You tell me.” Greer took more photographs out of his bag and lay them side by side across the island tabletop—nine photographs all together.

“Jesus,” Jack whisp
ered, his voice sounding as broken as mine. He stood up and leaned over the photos, touching each one reverently.

Each photograph showed a body in various states of decomp. I tried to look at them as a coroner, as an outsider, and piece together what they all had in common. One man had been garroted. Another had his throat slit. Some had been exposed to the elements for long periods of time before their bodies had been discovered and documented. Nine men were dead whoever they were.

“Winters, Gonzales, Price, Dreyer, Thompson, Garfield, Caine, Wolfe, and Santos. They all have names, Agent Greer. They’re not just crime scene photographs.”

“Goddammit!” Jack hefted the bar stool with one hand and threw it with all his might to the other side of the kitchen, knocking a clock from the wall and chipping the doorframe. He turned away from us and braced his hands against the kitchen counter, keeping his head down as he tried to get himself under control. His back and arms were stiff
and his fingers bit into the Formica.

I hadn’t seen Jack lose his temper like this in more than a dozen year
s. He kept a tight rein on it normally, and I knew there was nothing to do but wait it out and let him cool off. Lauren started to open her mouth, to say something to him, and I shook my head. She wisely shut her mouth and left him alone.

“Wallace was number ten,” Jack finally said.

Greer nodded. “And Elliott was eleven. Or one if you want to be technical.”

“So that makes me twelve.”

I realized then who the men in the photographs were, and a fear so sharp and sudden came over me that I almost doubled over. It was nothing like the fear I’d experienced for myself over the last months. It was fear for a man I loved more than life itself—a man who made me a better person—who made me whole.

“Why isn’t he under protection?” I asked Greer, coming to my feet.

“He had to make sure I wasn’t responsible first.” Jack came back to stand beside me. “I’m the last man standing.”

“When was the last time you had contact with any of your men?” Greer asked.

“This is ridiculous,” I said, a cold fury taking root inside of me. “He could be a target and you’re sitting there treating him like he’s responsible.”

“He covered for John Elliott. On record.
There could be more he’s hiding.”

“Maybe you need to have an attorney present,” I said to Jack.

He ran his hand down the back of my hair and squeezed my neck. “No, it’s fine, Jaye. These are questions that have to be asked. And bringing a lawyer into it will only slow things down with red tape and bullshit when whoever did this to my men needs to be caught and punished.”

“I think I’m insulted,” Lauren said. “But I agree
with Dr. Graves. You need to protect yourself. I’d advise you to contact your attorney.”

I could see the frustration in Greer’s eyes at the suggestion
, but he didn’t reprimand Lauren for speaking out of turn.

“We got together once a year for a weekend the first couple of years
,” Jack said, ignoring our suggestion. “Winters, Dreyer, and Price transferred to different cities after the heist. Gonzales retired and opened his own consulting firm. Thompson took a slower paced job in some bayou town in Louisiana. Wallace took the job with Capitol Police. Wolfe became a high level P.I. The rest of the guys stayed on the team under a new commander.”

“After about year three we weren’t able to get together as much. Lives got busier. Some had gotten married and others had started families. We’d stay in touch through email and talk of all of us getting together again, but then things started getting busy
for me over the last few months and that’s been my focus.”

“When was the last time you had contact with any of them?”

“I got an email from Price before Christmas, telling me he and his wife were expecting their first child.” He touched the photo of the man I assumed was Price.

“Where did Price transfer to?” I asked.

“New Orleans.”

“This crime scene
isn’t too old.” Price was one of the men who’d had his throat slit from ear to ear. “See the way the skin at the edge of the wound is crusted? It’s frozen. Dressed in a suit and tie.”

“The last place anyone saw him was at end of shift.
New Orleans detectives are required to wear a tie most of the time.”

“He hadn’t even had the chance to loosen it
before this happened,” I said, noting the crisp knot.

“I heard from Winters’ wife when he died in that car accident in January
,” Jack said. “I was able to make it out for the funeral, and most of the guys were there too, but since you’ve got Winters here in your lineup I’m assuming the crash wasn’t an accident.”

“Not an accident,” Greer confirmed.

“What about Dreyer? Was he the first?”

“Who’s Dreyer?” I asked
, and Jack pointed to the photograph.


Yes, we believe Dreyer was the first victim,” Greer confirmed. “He transferred to SWAT in Texas. He always took a couple weeks vacation during hunting season every year. He’s got no family still living and never married, so no one missed him when he didn’t check in. He was hit with a long range rifle right through the heart.”

I looked at the photograph in question and grimaced. The bullet hole was neat and round and the blackness of old blood was visible on the required blazing orange vest that would make him visible to other hunters. But Dreyer hadn’t been found for a long time and the animals had scavenged on him. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

“When he didn’t report back to work, a search party was sent out. You can see by the area that this wasn’t the kill site. The body was dragged and buried under some leaves behind some rocks. It took them two more days to find him after the alert went out. The local police department interviewed everyone who’d checked in and out during that time but didn’t find anyone who clicked. The case is still open but cold. They have no leads or even a hint of a suspect. It’s noted in the file that the investigating officer thinks the killer was never registered at the hunting lodge. The land where they’re allowed to hunt backs up to private property and they found some ATV tracks along the fence line, but there’s no telling who they belong to or how long they’ve been there.”


I wasn’t able to make it to his funeral,” Jack said. “I was in the middle of an investigation and we had our own killer on the loose.”


Winters was next in January. He lost control on icy roads and went over the bridge into the water. One of the witnesses on the scene thought she might have seen another car nudge him so he lost control, but she couldn’t be sure. And another witness swore he didn’t see any other cars on the road. No one could get him out of the water until rescue came because the water was so cold.”

“February and March were quiet. Then two weeks ago
your men were hit starting every couple of days. At first no one put it together. Not until Santos was killed. He was number five, and I don’t even think the FBI would have been involved if the body hadn’t been found on federal property. The killer made a mistake there because there was no reason to tie the other deaths in at that point. Five cops in different states with different specialties—the only thing connecting them being the SWAT team they belonged to six years prior. By the time I had all the information, Caine and Gonzales were dead. I put light surveillance on you, Wallace, and Wolfe, both for protection and to see if either of you had flipped your lids and were going after your old squad mates.”

“Tell Agent Donaldson he needs to do a better job of going unnoticed
,” Jack said. “I had him made after he’d been in town for five minutes. I just wasn’t quite sure what he was here for so I didn’t blow his cover. If you’d been another day in coming though I would’ve had the information on my own.”

Greer’s eyes held respect and shrewdness as he
tried to stare down Jack, not an easy thing to do considering Jack’s size and the fact he intimidated most people. “I’ll make sure to let him know.”

“How did Wolfe and Wallace get taken out if you had eyes on them?”
I asked.

“We haven’t
actually found Wolfe’s body yet. We just know he hasn’t showed up to his office or his apartment in the last four days. The apartment was clean. No sign of intrusion. Same thing with his office. He’s got a steady girlfriend, but she hasn’t seen or heard from him. She’s the one who called it in.”

“Wallace is a different story. Definitely signs of a struggle. He clocked out from shift at four in the afternoon. As best we can tell, he did a couple of errands—grocery store, dry cleaners—that kind of thing. Th
en he went home, changed out of his uniform and into daywear, and then he spread out his open case files on his desk and started working. It looks like he had dinner alone—a couple of beer bottles and one of those T.V. dinners found in the trash. Went to bed alone.”

“He had good security, and he had damned good instincts according to his superiors and what I read in his file. The alarm had been tampered with and there were forced entry marks on both the front and back door.”

“Surround and attack,” Jack said. “Multiple killers.”

“It looks like it, yes.
Hired more than likely. Wallace put up a fight. Broken lamps and furniture. Some blood found on the scene. They’d have to incapacitate him before they removed him from the house and into a waiting car. No neighbors heard or saw anything suspicious.”

“We found evidence of another crime scene near the 14
th
Street Bridge. Blood and brain matter consistent with two shots to the back of the head. It looks like he was tossed into the river at that point. No one saw or heard anything there either.”

“These killers have
worked their way from location to location, steadily traveling east, until they got to DC,” Jack said. “They’re trained. Professionals. And they wouldn’t be traveling together, but they’ve worked together before. It’s gone too smoothly for them not to have. They’ve saved me for last.”

“You were the commander. It probably seems fitting to end it that way.”

“I haven’t seen or felt anyone else in the area that doesn’t belong except for your guy.”

And except for my father. I met Jack’s eyes and I could tell the thought had already crossed his mind.
Apparently my father was good enough at what he did to slip by Jack.

“Whoever is pulling the strings
is probably waiting until some of the heat dies down. Doesn’t make sense to try and take you out while you’re surrounded by feds. You’ve put in for vacation time too, so maybe he wants to wait and see how your routine changes. See where you go. You might present them with a better opportunity.”

BOOK: Dirty Rotten Scoundrel
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