Fatal Exchange (17 page)

M
ason made his way to the interrogation room where Carlos was waiting for him and glanced at his watch. Two and a half hours had passed since they’d received the first text that Tess had been taken. Two and a half hours with no progress in finding her. Which meant that Ben Jacobs better be ready to talk. And he better have the answers they needed.

His stomach growled as he passed the row of vending machines. Breakfast had consisted of leftover Chinese takeout from the night before. Lunch was long forgotten. He stopped in front of one of the machines, dug out a crisp bill from his wallet, and punched the buttons for a Snickers. Chocolate might not be at the top of the food pyramid, but it should help keep him focused.

Lack of food, though, wasn’t the only thing messing with his focus. Emily Hunt had managed to do that without even trying. He’d watched the way she related to her students earlier today, refusing to panic in a difficult situation, and putting their needs above her own. Now, every feeling toward her he thought he’d long since buried had resurrected full force and was trying to completely throw off his equilibrium.

He ripped off the end of the wrapper and took a bite. He still wasn’t sure what he’d been thinking when he’d almost kissed
her. All he knew was that she’d managed to work her way straight into his heart. That wasn’t supposed to happen to this undercover cop who tended to put his job before anything—or anyone—else, and was used to the long hours with no one to come home to.

She made him want to change all of that. Made him wonder what it would be like to come home after a tiring stakeout to a woman who loved him.

He took another bite and headed down the hallway to the interrogation room. Whatever he was feeling toward her would have to be analyzed another day. For now, he’d made a promise to her, and he intended to keep it. They needed to find Tess.

Carlos was waiting for him in the hallway.

“Any updates on Avery?” Mason asked.

“The last update we received was that they’d had a few issues again with her blood pressure dropping, but she should be okay.”

“Does she know about Tess yet?”

“I don’t think so.”

Mason let out a low whistle. “I’d hate to be the one to tell her.”

“You and me both.”

Mason nodded toward the room where Jacobs sat waiting for them. “I’ve looked through his file. Are you sure he has something worth our time?”

“It’s the best lead we’ve got at the moment. If someone was behind his breaking into both Avery’s house and the Cerdas’ apartment today, we need to know who.”

“Then let’s do this.”

Mason stepped into the room behind Carlos and tossed his empty candy wrapper into the trash can before sliding into a chair. He studied the wiry man across the table from him. He looked older than his forty-seven years. Fingers drummed against the table. His foot tapped against the floor. The last interview had pretty much amounted to nothing more than a
demand to see his lawyer. Something had changed his mind. At least that’s what they were hoping.

Mason folded his arms. “We understand you’ve decided to talk?”

“Yes, but before I say anything, I’m going to need protection.” Jacobs’s eyes pleaded with them as he leaned forward, elbows on the table. Something—or someone—had him terrified. “And you have to promise me no jail time.”

Mason’s brow rose at the man’s last demand. He looked at Carlos and let out a low chuckle. “Let’s see. He’s just been arrested for a burglary that included a stash of drug money that can be tied to kidnapping and ransom demands. But he wants us to promise him no jail time. Am I missing something here?”

“Wait a minute, you need the information I have. I just need guarantees.”

Carlos stood up, bracing his arms against the table. “What kind of guarantees? We don’t even know if the information you have is worth a get-out-of-jail-free card.”

“First of all, I didn’t have anything to do with any kidnapping or ransom demands.”

Carlos laughed. “And you expect us to believe that? You don’t exactly have a pristine past.” He tapped on the Jacobs file sitting on the table. “In fact, you’re a repeat offender looking at prison time. With this arrest, I can ensure you go away for a very, very long time.”

Jacobs looked panicked. “No.”

“So you think if you cooperate with us today, all of this will, what? Simply disappear?” Mason asked.

“That’s the deal.”

“What do you think, Mason? We’ve already got him for drug possession, robbery, intent to distribute.” Carlos glanced back at Jacobs. “Do you want me to continue?”

The man turned away, jaw tight, lips pinched.

“I’m not sure you really understand the seriousness of your situation, Jacobs. You’re looking at serving the maximum sentence without the possibility of parole. And I haven’t talked to the DA yet, but I’m pretty sure that if convicted of another felony, you’re facing a very, very long time in prison.”

“That’s why I’m agreeing to make a deal.” Jacobs slammed his palms against the table. “I won’t go back there.”

Mason folded his arms and leaned back. “Start at the beginning then. Why did you break into the Cerda home?”

“I had an arrangement with someone.”

“What kind of arrangement?”

Jacobs’s gaze dropped. “Do we have a deal?”

“You give me something I can use, and I’ll do what I can to influence the DA in your favor. What kind of arrangement?”

“I started doing odd jobs on the side for someone.”

Mason frowned. They were going to have to take things one step at a time. “What kind of odd jobs?”

“I received a call the first time about . . . four months ago. He told me to search that other cop’s house and leave a bug.”

“What were you looking for?”

“He told me he needed a file and that I could find it in the basement on a desk.”

“What was in the file?”

“It was a case file on . . . I think his name was Michael. Michael Hunt.”

“How many times has your contact called you?”

“Six . . . maybe seven times.”

“And today?”

“The same thing. I received a phone call.”

“Blackmail?”

“I’d call it more of a . . . mutual agreement. He needed things done . . . I needed certain . . . activities to go unreported.”

Another cop. Mason suppressed a smile. Maybe they were actually getting somewhere.

“What kind of activities?”

“That’s not on the table today.”

Mason glanced up at Carlos. They’d drop that line of questioning . . . for now anyway. “What did he tell you to look for in the house this morning?”

“He said I’d find either drugs or money hidden somewhere.”

“You took a risk. We found out this morning that Eduardo was kidnapped. Didn’t you think that the police would show up at the house to search?”

“I didn’t know what was going on, or about any kidnapping victim. He just told me that the family would be out all morning and that I needed to hurry. I was almost done searching the house when I heard the landlord’s voice and realized that you guys were coming in. I hid in one of the back closets while they swept the house. Heard them in the other bedroom and thought I could get out clean.” Jacobs looked up at Mason. “At first this arrangement seemed advantageous to both of us, but he knew things, and made it clear that he was going to get what he wanted.”

“So he threatened you. With what? Prison?”

“Yes. He told me if I didn’t do what he said that he’d have me thrown back into prison, and this time for life. He said it would be my word against his, and you know where that would go. I’m a convicted felon, and he . . . he’s a decorated officer.”

They were making progress, but Mason didn’t like where this was going. Dirty cops accepted bribes in exchange for not reporting organized drug and prostitution rings, and possibly even participated in the crimes themselves.

“Why not just tell him no? Why take the chance of getting caught?”

“Like I said, he knew things.” Fear was in Jacobs’s eyes. “I
knew if I got arrested, I would go to prison. He has the connections to make that happen.”

“So your contact is on the force,” Carlos said.

“Promise you’ll protect me.”

Mason shook his head. They were wasting time. “Enough running around in circles, Jacobs. Who is it? Who are you working for?”

Jacobs’s hands clasped in front of him. Sweat glistened on his forehead.

“Without a name, I can’t do anything.”

“You still haven’t promised me protection.”

Jacobs stared at the table, clasping and unclasping his hands in front of him.

“Listen to me, there’s a girl’s life at stake. You help me, and I’ll convince the DA to give you a break.” Mason rubbed his forehead. He needed some Tylenol before his headache got worse. “Just tell me his name.”

Jacobs drummed his fingers on the table. “His name is Charlie. Charlie Bains.”

C
harlie Bains was their mole?

Mason felt a heavy weight tug at him as he stepped out of the interrogation room, struggling to accept what Jacobs had just told them. He had a hard enough time believing that one of the men sworn to protect their country had betrayed them, but Charlie had never been on his radar in regard to the department mole. The man might come across as a bit full of himself at times, but a traitor? No way.

Carlos joined him on the other side of the one-way glass with Tory and Griffin, arms folded across his chest, clearly facing the same skepticism. “Do any of you believe him?”

“No, but on the other hand, why lie at this point?” Mason asked. “The man’s clearly scared, but apparently jail scares him more than the repercussions from ratting out his source.”

In the adjoining room, Jacobs drummed his fingers against the table. Brow beaded with sweat. Foot tapped beneath the table. Nerves had taken over.

“I’ve been checking into Jacobs’s history.” Tory held up a thick folder. “So far, everything he’s said has checked out.”

“What about the text message regarding Tess?” Griffin asked. “It came while Charlie was talking with Emily.”

“An attempt to make her his alibi?” Mason said.

“Texts can easily be scheduled,” Tory said. “No matter what any of us think about Charlie on a personal level, until we have hard evidence saying otherwise, we can’t ignore the possible consequences of him being behind this.”

Mason didn’t like where the conversation was headed, but Tory was right. Whether or not Jacobs’s admission was true, at this point they couldn’t ignore the possibility. “Charlie has been involved in every aspect of this case, which means if he’s behind what has happened today, he knows everything we do.”

“Do we know where he is?” Carlo asked.

“I’ll call the captain, give him a quick briefing, and find out.” Mason punched in the captain’s number, spoke for a minute, then hung up. “Charlie left the school ten minutes ago. Told the captain he was following up on a lead with an old informant of his.”

Carlos shook his head. “That doesn’t look good.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Mason turned to Tory and Griffin. “Captain wants you to track Charlie’s phone. He’s smart, but if he’s running, he might not be thinking clearly. We need to find him. Then start looking for a connection between Jacobs and Bains. An arrest, testimony, anything that ties them together.”

“On it.”

“Carlos, we’ll meet back up at the safe house. Backup is already on its way, but Captain wants us to go by the assumption that if Charlie is the mole—and involved in what happened today—not only does he know where Tess is but where the safe house is as well.”

Which meant Emily and Rafael’s lives were in danger. And until all the pieces of the puzzle came together, they were going to have to take every precaution they could, including moving Rafael and Emily to a new, secure location.

He and Carlos headed out the door as he punched in FBI Agent Bradley’s number, his heart aching for Emily. If Charlie
was behind this, she needed to know the truth. She might not love him anymore, but even that wouldn’t ease the sting of betrayal.

He let it ring a dozen times, frowning as he hung up the call.

“The agents aren’t answering.”

He tried Emily’s phone next.

Nothing.

“He’s gone after them.”

Mason spoke his fear out loud. Panic wasn’t a word he liked to use, but today was markedly different. No matter how hard he tried to ignore his feelings, he’d fallen for Emily, and if anything happened to her . . .

“We don’t know that they’re in danger,” Carlos said. “Not yet.”

Accurate or not, the detective’s assurances fell short.

Ten minutes later, they pulled onto the quiet road leading to the safe house, Mason’s nerves stretched to the breaking point. He’d been right when he’d told her he was taking advantage of both of their emotions in this situation, but even that admission had done little to tone down his feelings toward her . . . or his own fears.

Because he had no doubt that even when all of this was over—and she was safe—he’d still feel the same way. Which was why he was willing to wait if that’s what it took. And willing to do whatever it took to ensure she and Rafael were alive. And that they stayed alive.

Two patrol cars were already in front of the nondescript safe house.

“What would you do if you were Charlie?” Mason broke the silence that had settled in between him and Carlos.

“If he’s the mole, afraid that he’s about to get caught, he’s going to have to run.”

“If he isn’t already running.”

“He needs the ransom money in order to disappear, and a place to hide out until he gets the money.”

Which was why he’d taken Tess.

Mason took the porch steps two at a time, pausing at the front door that had been kicked open. His jaw tensed. It didn’t make sense. Why break down the door?

“Charlie could have walked in with few if any questions asked,” Mason began.

“Could mean someone else is involved.”

Mason nodded. “The man in the van.”

The officers met them at the door with quick introductions. “We got here five minutes ago. We were told to secure the scene, then hand it over to you at your arrival.”

“What have you got?”

“House is clear, but both agents are dead.”

A sick feeling spread through the pit of Mason’s stomach as he stepped into the safe house. Agent Pierce had a gunshot to the back of his head. The man probably hadn’t even known what hit him. Agent Bradley lay on the floor against the red-stained carpet, eyes open, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“They were guarding two people. Where are they?” Mason’s anger mounted. He hated the fact that they’d lost two good agents who hadn’t deserved this. Hated the fact that they might not be the only ones dead.

“I don’t know, sir. We searched the house. It’s empty. Looks as if they might have escaped out the back.”

“Start searching the neighborhood and find me a witness.”

“Yes, sir.”

More officers would be here in the next few minutes to help with the search. In the meantime, they needed to piece together what had happened. “So what do we know?”

Carlos stopped beside the overstuffed chair as he took in the details of the scene. “Shooter burst through the front door, stepped into the living room, quickly executing both agents.”

“He knew they were here,” Mason added. “Knew what to look for.”

They glanced around the simply furnished living room. Nothing more than a couch, a couple chairs and end tables. Emily’s coat and bag had been left on the couch. It was cold outside, which meant she’d left in a hurry. Voluntarily or against her will? That was what he needed to find out.

A file of papers lay strewn on the floor beside Agent Pierce’s body; an empty bag of miniature chocolate bars forgotten beside a computer on top of one of the end tables.

“If it wasn’t Charlie?” Mason began.

“Charlie must have told someone.”

Mason stepped into the kitchen. Bread and sandwich fixings on the counter . . . Sandwiches on two plates beside Emily’s phone . . . Knife on the tile floor . . . The back door open.

“The shooter caught them by surprise. Emily and Rafael were here . . . fixing lunch . . . heard the front door burst open and the shots—”

“—and ran.” Carlos finished his sentence for him.

Mason nodded. Either they were looking at another kidnapping . . . or somehow Emily and Rafael had gotten away.

God, please, let it be
the latter.

They stepped outside. The backyard was landscaped with nothing more than a small patio, a few bare bushes, and a pile of wood, enclosed by a six-foot fence. The side gate leading to the front was open.

“Looks like at least three sets of prints.” Carlos pointed toward the soft ground where today’s rain and light snow had helped capture the footprints near the gate leading into the front yard.

Mason squatted down beside the pile of wood, looking toward the street where the footprints led. “You think they got away?”

“It’s possible. Looks like one of them fell over here.”

Mason followed Carlos through the gate into the front yard
where a shovel lay on the ground. He’d have the lab process it for fingerprints and traces of blood.

“Maybe they were able to knock out the attacker with the shovel,” Carlos threw out.

“Assuming they got away, where would they have gone?” Mason was asking his questions out loud. Questions neither of them had answers to at the moment.

God, please . . . let
her have gotten away.

Mason looked for details the same way he attacked every case he worked. Examine the big picture, then hone in on the details. The nondescript street. Houses that fell in the middle-of-the-road price range. Nothing fancy, well-kept yards. The row of empty driveways implied most worked during the day. Nothing called attention to the fact that this house was being used as a safe house.

He stopped at the edge of the sidewalk and turned to Carlos. “Neighborhood’s quiet.”

“Finding witnesses is going to take time.”

Time was something they didn’t have.

“Let’s assume Emily and Rafael got away,” Carlos said as they searched the side yard for another clue. “She’s out there with no phone or money. He’d try to follow them. Where would she go?”

Mason felt his chest constrict. She wouldn’t know whom to trust. She might not know that Charlie was the mole, but she knew Avery’s house and office had been bugged. That someone had been listening. Which more than likely would make her leery of going to the police.

And he had no way to warn her about Charlie.

“She’d go to a neighbor.”

He looked down the street. No cars in the driveways for as far as he could see. “Maybe. But in the middle of the day it might be hard to find anyone at home, and if someone was after her,
she wouldn’t have time to go door-to-door waiting for someone to answer. She needs to disappear.”

“Found some blood.”

Mason’s heart plummeted. He knelt down beside Carlos three feet away from the marred grass where one of the three had fallen. “Either one of the agents got a slug into our shooter, or the shooter . . .”

Mason’s gut clenched. Or the shooter hit Rafael or Emily.

He looked up. One of the officers was escorting an older woman. Midfifties, short, gray hair, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. “I’ve got someone here who saw a couple running down the street. Says she also called 911.”

Mason introduced himself to the woman who identified herself as Nicky Sanders. “Can you tell me where you live, ma’am?”

“Across the street.” Ms. Sanders nodded east up the road. “Three doors down.”

Mason eyed the one-story bungalow with a couple of crape myrtles and dozens of smaller shrubs. From the front window, she’d have been able to see the front yard, but not the gate leading to the backyard.

“I’m normally at work this time of day, but I came down with this nasty cold I can’t shake so I decided to stay home.” The woman dragged a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. “I was heating up some soup, when I heard something that sounded like a gunshot. With all the crazy stuff you hear about on the news, I didn’t want to take any chances. I immediately called 911.”

“Did you see anyone?”

“I went to the window, still on the phone with 911. I saw a woman and a young man run across the yard and down the street. Honestly, I’m not even sure who lives there. I’ve never really noticed anyone there except for a regular lawn service.”

“Was there a car out front?”

Ms. Sanders nodded. “A black, four-door something. I don’t really know cars.”

“Okay. What else did you see?”

“They ran down the street, the opposite direction of my house, then disappeared.”

“What about the car?” Mason asked.

“A man stumbled across the front yard from the far side, one . . . maybe two minutes later. He looked as if he’d been injured. He limped to the car and drove off. ”

“So the other two didn’t get into the car with him.”

“No.”

Mason felt a sliver of relief shoot through him. If Emily and Rafael had made it out of the house alive, there was a good chance they were safe.

“Could you recognize the man who drove off?” Carlos asked.

“No.” Ms. Sanders sniffed as she shook her head. “He was wearing some kind of mask . . . like a ski mask.”

“Tall? Short?”

“It was hard to tell, but definitely short. Maybe five seven or eight?”

Charlie was at least six feet. Mason’s cell went off, and he pulled it out of his back pocket. He excused himself and took the call from Tory. “What have you got?”

“I was able to track Charlie’s phone. He’s still got it on.”

“Good.” He hadn’t turned it off, which meant he was either running scared and not thinking, or felt cocky. Either could be a recipe for disaster. “Where is he?”

“Four blocks away, at the North Ridge Mall.”

Bingo.

“Call for backup to meet us there. Carlos and I are on our way.”