Tenderloin (Abby Kane FBI Thriller) (27 page)

“I said twenty words,” Elan announced, sounding pleased with himself. “If I may boldly say, one of them was the correct ingredient. You are so stupid when it comes to the sciences that you can’t even deduce that fifteen of those words couldn’t possibly be the ingredient.
Drosophila
! Do you know what that is? No, of course not. How silly of me to ask. What about
Mangifera indica
? I love sweet
mangifera indica
.” Elan’s cleverness delighted him so much that he failed to see the rage building in Cabrera’s face.

“Say it again. I dare you to repeat those exact words once more.”

“But of course.” Again, Elan rattled them off.

A moment later, he heard his own voice repeating those very same words, followed by a gruff laugh. “Who’s the smart one now?” Again the recording sounded off the words as Cabrera held up his phone.

Elan let out a puff of breath. “Who cares? You have a recording. You’ll never figure it out. You are no further ahead than where you were before.”

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that I do not need you.”

Cabrera bent down and wrapped a chain around Elan’s ankles, securing it tightly with a lock. He then backed into the depth of darkness, out of sight.

“What are you doing?” Elan cried out fearfully. He heard a switch and then the whirring of an engine. A beat later, the slack in the chains tightened, and yanked his feet out in front of him and lifted him up off the chair. There he swung upside down, dangling from his feet, the chair still trapped between his arms. The pressure from the chain crushed his ankle bones together, causing excruciating pain. Elan screamed louder.

“That’s it. Let it out. I know it hurts.”

Cabrera reemerged from the dark and yanked the chair free. Elan’s head stood even with Cabrera’s stomach. “This is perfect.” He grabbed a hold of Elan’s head and carved the last two letters into the man’s forehead.

Elan continued his cries for help. He contorted his body and jerked from side to side as he desperately tried to shake free. He screamed and screamed until he realized Cabrera had disappeared once again.

“Where are you? Tell me!”

Elan struggled to turn himself around as he searched for the madman. He saw no movement and heard no noise save for the twisting of the chains around his ankles. Where could he be? Only Elan’s short, hard breaths could be heard. His torso swung to the right then to the left, but still he could not see El Monstruo. Elan let out a cry and then another, followed by a long wavering howl until the room fell quiet once again. His shifting eyes continually searched until a noise made him freeze. Every muscle in his body tightened into knotted fear. The only movement came from the slight sway in the chain.

Elan Ortega had been completely and utterly incapacitated by a simple sound: that of a very long blade being slowly pulled from its sheath.

Chapter 68

The towers had triangulated Cabrera’s phone signal and pinpointed his location in an abandoned warehouse. From what I could deduce from the rusted conveyer belts that routed through most of the large, open space, the signal had led us to an old processing plant—seafood, most likely. I was busy clearing a row of offices filled with rusted furniture, empty filing cabinets, and rotting paper when I got the word. Another team of agents had discovered a small shipping container tucked in the rear corner of the warehouse; at least, that was the initial assessment. We would later discover that the container was a large, walk-in refrigeration unit.

I moved around and ducked under a few canning tracks until I spotted the agents. As I approached, one turned to me. “It’s ugly in there.”

“Thanks for the heads up.”

I pulled the door open and stopped as soon as I entered.

The motionless body hung upside down about fifteen feet back, facing away from me. Two tripods, each with a double set of work lights, lit the body and the remaining part of the container. The air inside was noticeably hotter and fouled by a pungent mixture of blood and something musky I couldn’t identify.

“I’m pretty sure it’s him, but you might want to take a look yourself,” the agent behind me said.

I didn’t respond. I took a deep breath and pushed forward. As I got closer, I noticed that the dark liquid below the body had pooled toward the left of the container. I bent down for a closer look. “This happened recently. The blood hasn’t coagulated yet.”

I turned back toward the agent. “I’m assuming that print isn’t from the loafers you’re wearing.”

He shook his head definitively.

I had already known the answer, but I had to ask. The mark looked to be from an athletic shoe. Cabrera wore athletic shoes.

I accepted that the body hanging upside down in front of me was Elan Ortega. It was upsetting, but it came with the territory. I could distance myself from it. But the realization that Cabrera obviously had something to do with his death left my stomach feeling weighted and hollow. I did my best to keep a straight face, but my emotions were clawing at the inside of my chest, anxious for an audience. It didn’t help that my eyes were already in a battle to hold back an angry wave of tears. The more I processed what had happened, the more confused I became. Life had led me down a happy path only to sucker punch me with a nasty twist. I had to question everything I thought to be true.

I stood, straightening my jacket.
Let’s get it over with.
I chose the right side of the container, away from the pooling blood, and walked on the tips of my toes to avoid disturbing the scene before the forensic techs could sweep the place.

His body was still dripping—not much, but noticeable. My head craned around his torso, much more anxious than my legs were for an explanation. There it was—unavoidable. Elan had been sliced open from his waistline up to his sternum. A coil of innards spilled out from his gut area.

“There’s a message,” the agent motioned with his finger, “on his forehead.”

I bent my knees for a better look and saw the same carvings that his wife, Adrianna, had suffered.

My body stiffened, and my tongue seemed to swell as I tried to swallow. A nauseous boil rose in my stomach. I prayed I wouldn’t succumb, but to know that I had been intimate with a monster sickened me.
How could he have had me so fooled? Did I miss the signs? What happened to my keen ability to sniff out the bad fruit?

My pity party didn’t last long, because the loathing I felt quickly turned on its heel. Anger, coupled with the embarrassment of being taken advantage of, replaced my sadness. My fists clenched, and my breathing gained momentum.

Cabrera must have laughed himself silly as he courted me into bed. This must have been a big game to him. Why else would a man involve himself with a person whose goal is to rid the earth of people like him? Spite? Hardly. Revenge? Can’t say it was that either. Maybe it was his way of keeping himself safe, undetected.
Keep your friends close... Turns out, I wasn’t his friend.

“Abby.”

Reilly’s voice sprang me out of my thoughts and back into the container.

“Look, I know what you’re thinking,” I said. “How could I have not known? I—”

“Stop right there. I’m not blaming you for this. Agent Cabrera was an unknown to us. How could you, we, have known who he really was? Catching him is our concern. We can figure out the ‘why’ later.”

“Oh my God!” I clapped a hand over my mouth.

“What is it?”

“He—he knows where I live. He met Lucy… and my mother-in-law.”

Reilly had a quick draw on his phone. Within seconds, he had ordered a team of agents to my home while I raced there also.

Horrible thoughts plagued me during my drive home. There was no daycare that day, so I knew Lucy was home. I feared I would arrive and she and Po Po would be missing, taken by that sick son of a bitch. Or worse: I would find them in the same condition we’d found Elan. I struggled to purge those scenes from my mind. I had to remain positive and levelheaded. He could still be there.

As I made a left onto Pfeiffer Street where I lived, I realized I’d arrived before the backup Reilly had ordered. I couldn’t wait, so I parked my car a few houses down. I double checked my weapon and grabbed an extra magazine and my flak jacket from the trunk. I took a deep breath before quietly advancing on the Victorian. I couldn’t believe I had brought my work home in the worst possible way. Something had to change. Who could expect a family to get through this unscathed? It was the total opposite of what I wanted to achieve with our life here. We’d left Hong Kong for safer and simpler. So much for that. If there was one saving grace, it was that Ryan was still at camp. I had Reilly dispatch agents up there anyway. Then I notified the camp.

If Cabrera was in there, I wanted the element of surprise on my side. I decided to cut across my neighbor’s front yard and through the tall hedge that separated our properties. It was a tight squeeze, but I got through with only a few scratches and moved to the side of the house. On my way to the rear, I passed under a series of windows and cursed my height for not allowing me to see inside. For the first time in my life, I sincerely wished I were taller.

I slipped inside the screened-in porch, my weapon out in front. The house seemed eerily quiet. The back door was locked, which it should be. After I let myself in, I could hear the TV in the living room. I removed my shoes before making my way down the hallway, hoping I wouldn’t catch a loose floorboard. Along the way, I cleared the laundry room, a bathroom and Po Po’s bedroom. I stopped short of entering the living room and poked my head around the corner. I saw Po Po sitting in the recliner, watching TV. She was alone, and things appeared normal, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I had a finger against my lips when I revealed myself to her. I cleared the kitchen quickly, and then reentered the living room.

“Where’s Lucy?” I whispered.

“What’s going on? Why do you have your gun?”

“Is anyone here?”

“What do you mean—”

I cut her off with a wave of my hand. “Are you alone?”

She nodded.

“Is Lucy upstairs?”

She nodded again. “She has a slight fever and is resting.”

Po Po’s breaths had sped up, a sign she was starting to panic. I placed a hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eyes. “Everything will be okay.”

I checked the front door. It was locked.

“Stay here. More agents are on the way,” I said before heading upstairs. I had three rooms and a bath to clear. Lucy’s room, to the right of the stairs, was my priority. Her door was open, and I peeked inside. She lay in bed, sleeping. I moved in and cleared the closets, and then woke her.

“Mommy, you’re home,” she mumbled, groggy from sleep. I felt her head; she was still warm. I wanted nothing more than to hug her tightly forever. I also wanted to give her a hot bath to wash the touch of that monster off of her. Images of him playing tag with her the night before twisted my stomach tighter.

“Shhhhh. Mommy is here to take care of you.” I picked her up, quickly brought her downstairs and handed her over to Po Po. Then I went back upstairs to clear the rest of the house, all while wondering where the hell my backup was. I checked Ryan’s room and then the bathroom before heading toward mine. For some reason, I had thought that, if he were here, he would be in my room, waiting for me. I decided to save it for last, climbing up one more floor. The top level of the house housed a small media room on one end and my office on the other.

I returned to my bedroom and faced my double-door entrance, which was closed, just as I had left it this morning. I pressed my ear gently against the cool wood and heard the faint sound of water running through the piping of the house, nothing more. I grabbed the handle and pushed the door open. I made quick peeks around it until I was certain I had no one in my immediate sights. I entered the room and moved to the bathroom. Clear. Only one place left—the walk-in closet.
Last one Abby. Be ready.

I stared at the door, wondering if he was on the other side waiting for me. Ninety-nine percent of Abby voted no, but the other one percent had lottery luck on its side.
You never know
. I aimed my gun and took a deep breath. A beat later, I stood inside my closet, alone and wondering.

The faint sound of screeching tires outside signaled that my backup had arrived. As I did a one-eighty, my phone rang.

“Hello, Ab-by.”

Chapter 69

I froze, but my heart leapt out of my chest.

I could hear him breathing on the other end, waiting for a response. He’d almost had me. Luckily, I had the mindset to switch gears and answer as Agent Kane and not Abby.

“Agent Cabrera. How nice of you to call. Where are you?”

“No, no, no. I want to speak to Ab-by.”

“Tough. You don’t get to make that decision.”

“Why, I sense you’re angry with me. Don’t be. Remember what we had.”

“Tell me where you are. We can meet and reminisce.”

He laughed like we were playing a game of footsie. I wanted to kick his nuts.

Reilly entered my room with two other agents. Before he could say anything, I motioned for them to be quiet and pointed at my phone.

“Come on,” I played with him. “Don’t you want to see me?”

“Oh you have no idea, Ab-by. No idea.” Cabrera took a short breath before speaking. “Did Elan tell you anything?” He asked coyly.

“He told me a lot of things—too much to repeat over the phone.”

He chuckled. My jaw clamped tighter.

“As much as I would love to grab dinner and have wonderful conversations,” he continued, “you and I know that’s not possible right now. Maybe in the future, when you’re not mad at me, we can picnic again. With Lucy, too.”

My body shook when I heard her name come out of his mouth. How dare he. I gripped my phone harder, noticing that my palms were wet. I wanted to hurt him, then kill him. “Leave my family out of this. This is between you and me.”

He clucked his tongue at my answer. “Don’t be afraid. I mean you and your family no harm. Just tell me, Ab-by, and we can go our separate ways.”