Flash Point (28 page)

Saleda pulled open the heavy, steel door leading into a room that had
to have been designed to ensure maximum ash-color skin on all persons living
and
deceased, because the lighting effect was impressive. She headed for the first of the four drawers she spotted, keen to get it over with.

Porter and Saleda seemed to have the same idea, having both located two of the other possible drawers.

‘Well, the good news is that they don't smell as bad frozen,' Porter said as they all shared one last look, a silent pact to proceed.

As Porter yanked the handle, Jenna followed suit and could hear Saleda had, as well. She rolled the slab out into the room about halfway, took a deep breath as she reached for the body bag zipper.

I could've been a professional decorator. Maybe worked in graphic design. Those use colors.

But no, after a childhood filled with terror, psychopathic mind games, and the constant threat of death, the sensible thing to do was always go into homicide investigation. Definitely healthy.

She dragged the zipper down, spread the plastic apart with gloved hands. She stared down at the elderly black male inside. Eighty, maybe. Scraggly, unkempt hair, yellowed chipped teeth. Humble, unassuming fawn flashed in as she looked at a face gaunt from too few meals, the eyes red and sad as if they'd seen even fewer hugs. Homeless, if she had to guess.

‘Winner!' Porter said from across the room.

Jenna closed the plastic flaps back over the John Doe but left the bag unzipped for now, too eager to see if Porter had actually found the missing body of the dead member of Black Shadow. She crossed the room toward him, as did Saleda.

‘It's definitely our guy,' Porter said.

Jenna peered into the plastic, and sure enough, though she didn't know what to expect the assassin to look like, she had no doubt it was him. For one, his head was lying on the slab, but if the board hadn't been underneath it, it likely would've hung from just strings of sinew that Atticus's blow with the machete-like knife Teva and Saleda had determined to be a kukri during their earlier, more in-depth video review hadn't managed to sever.

Brick red flashed in. Damn, she wanted to watch that footage some more for herself. See if she could confirm the suspicion forming in her mind.

And analyze it, she would. But first things first. They had to get the M.E. down here to start the process of identifying who the hell this was. And that would mean letting the rest of the players in the game in on the fact that the four of them had been very, very bad little FBI agents.

Saleda shrugged. ‘Better now than never, huh?'

Jenna nodded, General Ted's round face filling her mind. Somehow, she imagined his gap-toothed smile wouldn't make an appearance next time she saw him. Even if they
were
doing everyone a favor. Identifying this killer was the fastest and best chance they had to figure out who the other members of Black Shadow were.

Saleda dialed on her cell. ‘Look at it this way: if they want to kill us for going behind their backs, we were nice enough to meet them at the perfect place for it.'

She held the phone to her ear, the slight frown on her lips reading more pissed than worried. If General Build-a-Bear had just let them do their job in the first place, none of their asses would be on the line now.

Saleda spoke quick words to the police dispatcher who answered, and within seconds, the call ended. She pocketed her phone. ‘That's it. They're on the way.'

Jenna clasped her hands in front of her, rocked on her heels. Nothing to do now but wait. What was the worst they could do? Send her to her room? Claudia had done way worse than that.

‘This should be fun. Anyone fancy a game of I Spy while we wait?' Porter asked. ‘We could use actual eyes,' he coaxed, the last part in a boyish, sing-song that would've been funny if it weren't for the fact that they were in a place that for the same reason made it completely disturbing.

Jenna shook her head and instead just paced, thinking of how many times her father had done the same thing over the years anytime he was worried. He'd been through worse than General Teddy Grahams, too. Their whole family had.

Bring it, Teddy Ruxpin. You might be the US government, but I've dealt with the bigger guns. You might think handling North Korea and Iran make you more qualified to fight these monsters. And it might, except for the fact that I've fought one you haven't. Experience with Satan is a tough one to trump.

‘Stupid, freakin' key, just TURN!' Jenna yelled, furiously wrenching at the key jammed in the lock, twisting harder and harder until finally the last lock of the color-coded system she'd designed turned over.

Jenna shoved the door open, slammed it, and began re-keying the locks, all the while muttering under her breath. ‘Supposed to keep Claudia
out
, not
me
, for God's sake. After all, if I don't get my ass inside I'll probably be carted off to jail and held without bond.'

‘Whoa! Somebody finally made your workaholism an arrestable offense? I don't know if I should send the flowers to them to thank them or forward them on to the mortuary for their funeral after you throttle 'em,' Charley said.

Jenna turned to see her brother's legs and torso sticking out from inside the cabinets under the kitchen sink. His bent elbows jutted out as his hands worked at what she assumed was the garbage disposal, and occasionally a hand popped out to feel around for a screwdriver or hammer before returning to work.

‘We can use the ambulance for when you inevitably cut your hand off. Where's the duct tape?'

‘Yikes,' Charley said. ‘We skipped straight from “I'm too tired for you to guilt trip me about not being home more” and “Stop annoying me about this” to full on “I can give it right back, buddy,”' He slid out from under the sink enough to size her up. His eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘You must've had some night.'

Jenna unsnapped her holster, took out her Glock, and popped it in the small safe she kept in the kitchen, then tossed her phone on the table and collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs. ‘If you call practically breaking into a hospital morgue, digging through drawers of bodies, then being chastised like a child by an army general with the voice and face of that evil purple bear in
Toy Story 3
all because we handed him the single biggest lead on this terrorist case, then, yeah. Bad day. Is A still up?'

A squeal, frantic giggle, and the sound of running feet from the hallway answered that. A moment later, Ayana clonked into the kitchen wearing Charley's red Converse, a Pull-Up, and a pair of sunglasses. She whirled to face the hallway entrance, knees bent, grinned, and let out a giggle in between catching her breath.

‘The lion TOLD YOU no more pictures, Paparazzi Ayana!' boomed a goofy version of Vern's voice from the hall. ‘And now you have to pay for sneaking them!'

Jenna's dad bounded into the room and snatched Ayana off the floor, turning her little girl into a blur of kicking white legs, bouncing blonde ringlets, and a flailing arm stretched out, holding the baby monitor from her bedroom. The wild giggles continued until A could barely breathe, and Vern settled her on to his hip as finally, she allowed the monitor to be taken from her hand.

‘Sometimes getting home is like watching one of those foreign game shows where people are running across a bridge of giant, Styrofoam balls, and for some reason the host gets pied in the face because someone in the audience has a banana,' Jenna said.

‘Mama!' Ayana said, noticing Jenna, and she ran to her and crawled messily into her lap.

‘Nah, Rain Man, it's a reality show! Top rated,' Charley said.

Ayana looked to Vern. ‘Cam-ra? Wan pic-cher?'

Vern narrowed his eyes. ‘I told the paparazzi it was bedtime after she snuck the last lion photo …'

Charley leaned in, whispering. ‘The monitor is a camera. Don't ask me where she learned about paparazzi. It certainly had nothing to do with me letting her watch that episode of Jersey Shore where Snooki debuted her baby bump. It was like five minutes, and I swear to God, I don't even think she remembers it.'

‘Mm-hmm.' Jenna smacked him in the back of his head with her palm as Ayana put on her best pouty face for Vern.

‘Just one more for Ma-ma? Peeeeease?'

Vern's face melted into a smile. ‘Oh, all right. But just one, then it's time to go to bed. Even paparazzi photographers have to sleep sometimes, you know.'

Ayana grinned as she hopped off Jenna's lap, taking back the monitor. She held it upside down in front of her face, the video screen facing out toward Jenna.

‘A smile, Ma-ma!' Ayana said. ‘One … two … four …'

She clicked her tongue.

‘Got it!' Ayana proclaimed. She turned the monitor around to look at it. Nodded. ‘Good picher, Mama!'

Jenna's chest clenched. Damn, she loved that little girl. ‘Thank you, baby.'

‘Tell Mommy night-night, A,' Vern said, scooping up his granddaughter.

‘Nigh-nigh, Mama!' she said, letting Vern lean her in for a sloppy, wet kiss on Jenna's temple.

Jenna watched Vern carry Ayana into the hallway and disappear into her room before turning back to Charley. She stood up and reached for her usual coffee cup. ‘Sometimes I swear that kid's going to grow up and want to live in a nudist colony.'

‘Might as well,' Charley said. ‘Between how behind we are on clean laundry and going to get a midnight snack and being surprised to find Yancy in front of the fridge in his skivvies, we're pretty damned close, anyway.'

Jenna dumped the coffee grinds into the maker, stretching to try to see into the living room. ‘Where is Yancy, by the way?'

They hadn't had much time together at all lately, and as strained as things had been between them since Denny and the knowledge of Claudia's threat hanging over them, right now, she had to admit to herself nothing would be better than to feel his arms around her waist, and some long, slow kisses. Maybe even a frisky romp to channel all the wired energy General Ted's talking down had left her with into something much more satisfying.

‘Not here,' Charley said.

Jenna opened her mouth to protest, but Charley held up a finger. ‘Agh. Don't. We're not breaking the three guards must man the fortress rule. Victor's in the bathroom putting on his uniform, getting ready to go in. Yancy called him earlier, asked to trade shifts. Didn't say what was up, but don't worry, Rain Man. He secured an acceptable substitute and performed the changing of the guard to the letter, on schedule. No need to put him in the dog house tonight.'

Jenna turned back to the coffee pot and plugged it in, feeling a mix of relief and worry. The last time Yancy stopped telling everyone where he was and what he was up to, he had ended up getting involved in a situation over his head, killed someone while trying to rescue someone he barely knew, and landed them in their current situation where, at any moment, Claudia's blackmail hammer could fall and throw all their lives into a pit of hell.

‘Rain Man,' Charley said, pushing back from the table. She felt him behind her before his hands rested on her shoulders. Gave her a light squeeze. ‘He loves you. He's not going to screw that up again.'

Jenna glanced over her shoulder at him, skeptical. ‘Aren't brothers supposed to hate their sisters' boyfriends because no one is good enough?'

Charley released her shoulders and walked toward the living room. ‘Maybe. But sisters don't usually have to grow up in environments where curtain rods are known more for their weapon potential than, ya know, holding up curtains, so let me slide this one time, OK?'

He disappeared into the living room, and in the next few seconds, the familiar twanging of guitar strings met her ears.
Weird Charley mentioning the curtain rod tonight
. It haunted Jenna so much that sometimes his ability to act like it didn't ever enter his mind infuriated her.

‘Make enough to pour me a cup?' Victor's deep voice jolted Jenna back to reality.

He stood in the doorway, finishing the buckle where his uniform pants belted over sharp, blue creases. He stepped past her and reached for a mug from the cabinet, now as at home as everyone else allowed here.

‘Sure thing. I'm surprised you haven't had to go in before now, what with the manhunt of the century that's being mounted out there,' Jenna said, her voice oozing bitterness.

Victor poured his coffee, grabbed the sugar, and joined Jenna at the table. ‘Should've, actually. Been putting off my captain all day so I could hang around until Yancy got back. Had to cover for him a couple of times in the past few days, actually. Hope nothing's up.'

There it was. No judgment, no condescension. Not even a request to open a dialogue or insinuate they had a problem to fix. Just the knowledge between them of what had happened, what was at stake, and that they could only pull their own weight as far as helping keep Yancy's literal skeleton in the proverbial closet. Victor didn't tell Jenna everything he'd done as they worked to make sure Denny Hoffsteader's life – and death – would never hurt this family, but she knew he'd tracked down sources, shaken up certain parties. She also knew he and Yancy had taken several late night drives without a word about where or why, always coming home resigned and stoic. She'd told Victor long ago she'd trust him to do what needed to be done to protect the family now that Claudia knew Yancy's mistake, and she'd meant it. He'd asked her to not ask, so she hadn't. In so many ways, it had been like a request Hank would've made. And yet, she might've checked behind her ex-husband, curious and even unsure of the steps he might take. It wasn't that Hank wouldn't have done everything he could to protect them or that he was somehow inadequate. He was smart, capable, and in the same situation, he would've taken bold steps to secure the situation.