Acoustic Shadows (17 page)

When he fell into his car, it was as if someone had shot him with a tranquillizer dart. Rain drops appeared on his windshield, and he shook his head.
There goes the crime scene. Tough cookies, Sheriff.
Fatigue swept over him as the rain tapped, then began to beat, on the car’s exterior. His adrenaline surge from the gunfight subsided. He wanted to drive back to the Sun Beam Motel and crawl into the sack. He even thought about calling Sara Logan. But, he let that go quickly. Nothing good could come from that tonight.

Still, he felt his loneliness like a wet woollen suit. It smothered him and made him doubt himself again, as he had for the past ten years. His wife’s face flashed into his mind. He wished he knew where she had gone, why she had left him and their children. He never quit wondering if she was alive. Even after he’d reported her missing, after he had gone looking for her, leaving the boys with a kind-hearted neighbour for weeks, after he’d finally given up on finding her alive, nothing revealed itself. It was as if she’d vanished off the earth. He held out hope for the first year, or two. But, eventually, he had to accept she wasn’t coming back.

If I couldn’t find my own wife
… He thought of Erica Weisz.
Can you get your shit together and find her? That’s your fucking job, isn’t it? Are you always going to think of yourself as a man who couldn’t quite cut it? Couldn’t cut the NFL, couldn’t cut it as a husband. And, as a cop, couldn’t find your wife? You can only make so many excuses …

Thiery watched the blurred, flashing blue lights through the rain on his windshield, rubbing his tired eyes, considering his options. After a few minutes, he picked up his iPad and began to look up rental car agencies.

Thiery called Dunham on the way back to the motel. It was just after midnight and he was speeding down two-lane roads, wet and slick as black ice, the car windows open and drops of water sprinkling his face, refreshing him.

‘He … llo?’ said Dunham, coming out of a deep sleep.

‘Hi, Chief. It’s Thiery. I’m sorry to call at such a late hour, but I could use some help. I know you were told to back off the case, but, if it wasn’t urgent, I wouldn’t be calling.’

‘What do you need, Agent Thiery?’

‘The Guava Lane tip turned into a big shoot-out. Six dead, including two guys I think were professional killers. And Weisz managed to slip past all of them, I think in a rental car. I need someone to check out the rental agencies, and see if they can find one that loaned a late model, green Chrysler 300. I know it’s a lot of work … ’

‘Yeah, it could be,’ the Chief interrupted. ‘Or, we might get lucky and get it on the first call. Don’t get me wrong here, but don’t you have people who can do that for you?’

‘Well, it’s a matter of timing. I, uh, I’m essentially off the case at this point.’

‘Thought that wasn’t going to happen until tomorrow.’

‘I shot a man tonight.’ There was silence for a moment, then Dunham spoke. ‘Oh. I see. Who did you shoot?’

‘One of the hitmen who came after Erica Weisz.’

‘Did you see her?’

‘Only in passing. And I didn’t know it at the time. She was going out as I was coming in; I didn’t put it together fast enough. But, I found where she had been staying, or held captive. I’m not sure about all the details, but I know she was there. The stolen Camaro was there. It was a small house outside Lake Wales. I found bandages, hair dye, and her purse. In the purse was a driving licence with the same picture, new name: Christine Angel.’

‘Isn’t that another magician’s name feminized? That guy with the tattoos and all?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Hmmn, then your theory was right about her.’

‘I think so. Can you help out? I don’t want to get you into any trouble with your city manager.’

‘Hey, I’m a law enforcement officer, first and foremost. Political whipping boy comes way after that. You need help with this case, you got it. I’ll get started right away. You try to stay out of trouble for a little while, okay?’

‘Thanks, Chief. I owe you big time.’

‘Okay, then buy me another breakfast at Dutch’s.’

Thiery smiled for the first time in a long while. ‘You got it, Chief.’

It was after midnight and Sara Logan couldn’t sleep.
Sleep is overrated
, she thought. All it did was bring her the same nightmare, the one where she, a long distance swimmer, would look up from her swim and find herself alone, in the middle of the ocean, no land in sight, no sense of which direction to go. An overwhelming fear would awaken her, and she would find her heart hammering in her throat, her body so drenched with sweat, it seemed she’d just emerged from the sea.

She wanted to call Thiery and let him know she had located the pawn shop in Vegas where the guns used in the school shooting had been purchased, but she was hesitant. She couldn’t decide if that information was significant enough to wake him, or if the real reason she wanted to call him was to try to entice him into her bed. She turned on the nightstand light and picked up a Jodi Picoult novel she’d been reading for several weeks, but couldn’t stay focused on the story, as her thoughts kept returning to Thiery.

She turned her laptop back on, thinking she’d attempt to make a dent in her never-ending flow of emails. The scheduled meetings and new directives and protocols. The titbits of reports that came from all over the nation about another Islamic terrorist cell caught making pressure-cooker explosives in Connecticut, or some neo-Nazis who were threatening to assault a gay rights parade in Nebraska, or some castor beans – the basis of ingredients to make ricin – seized in the makeshift lab of a former FBI research scientist who held a vendetta against the ‘system’. All fun stuff and truly endless.
Crime and crazy never takes a holiday
, she thought.

Logan was picturing herself like a mouse running on a wheel that would never stop, her life passing her by like a missed bus, when the phone rang. She recognized the number of the forensic lab: Miko Tran, the agency’s most thorough forensic IT specialist.

‘Talk to me, Miko,’ she said.

‘Oh, uh, I was going to leave you a message,’ he said, nervously. ‘I’m so sorry, Special Agent Logan. I know it’s late.’

‘If I get any more beauty sleep, they’ll be asking me to pose for
Vanity Fair
.’

‘You’re not upset with me for calling so late?’

‘I’m getting a little irritated that you’re dragging this out.’ She heard Tran gulp on the other end of the line.

‘Okay, I’ll get to the point. Are you near your laptop?’

‘Sitting right in front of it. But, please don’t try to Skype me, or I’ll moon you.’

‘Is that a promise?’ Tran asked, hopeful.

‘C’mon, dude.’

‘Okay, Special Agent Logan. We’ve been diligently retrieving data from the Coody hard drive. I now have in my overworked hands a list of email addresses with which Coody corresponded. We brushed through the occasional and infrequent ones, and focused on those that were repetitive and/or had attachments in them. I’m sending you one I think you’ll find most interesting.’

The email Tran sent to Logan was from a [email protected]. It read only: ‘See attachment. Purchase will be arranged through Tito’s Pawn & Gun, F.S. will deliver.’ The attachment was the gun cache from the Kentucky State Police sale.

‘Good work, Miko. “F.S.”? Could that be Frank Shadtz?’

‘Could be.’

‘Who is Diceman1960?’ asked Logan.

‘We’re working on that. The account was set up under a fictitious name through a public library in Texas. But, it’s been accessed from several locations, including one in Washington DC. That’s where the one I sent you originated from. We’re trying to pinpoint that locale. The list had to be scanned in and attached though, so if we can find where it was scanned, we can find the person who sent Coody the list of guns.’

‘What was the fictitious name?’

‘Get this:
Wyatt Earp
. Mean anything to you?’

‘Hmmn. Not really, but Earp was a lawman and a gambler,” said Logan, pondering the possibilities. ‘Maybe that’s why the Diceman 160 moniker. Have to think about that one.’ Good job, Miko. You might get a handjob for your efforts.’

‘From you, Special Agent Logan?’

‘Of course, not, silly’ she said, and added with a chuckle,’ but, I’ll find a guy with nice soft hands.’

Thiery was pulling into the parking lot of the Sun Beam Motel when Dunham called him back.

‘Hi, Chief,’ said Thiery, ‘that was quick.’

‘We should play the lottery tonight,’ said Dunham, the excitement in his voice noticeable.

‘Yeah? Did we get lucky?’

‘We did. I called my shift supervisor, and he told me they were slow tonight. They’ve been sitting around listening to the radio dispatches on your shooting, up in Lake Wales, so I had him put some people on the rental car. They got a hit at Enterprise.’

‘Super. So, you have a name for me?’

‘Yep. Alejandro Lopez. Know him?’

‘No, can’t say I do.’

‘Enterprise makes a copy of their clients’ driving licences, so I had them send me a copy. Lopez’s DL was issued in Mexico. I’m going to text you and attach the image. Can you take it from there?’

‘Absolutely. That’s great, Chief. I can’t thank you enough.’

‘I’m holding you to that breakfast at Dutch’s.’

‘You got it, pal. Now, get back to sleep.’

‘Yeah, sure. Stay safe.’

Thiery’s iPad went
ting
before he was out of the car. He opened the message and looked at the attached file. He recognized Alejandro as the man he’d shot behind the house on Guava Lane. Dunham had also attached PDF files of the paperwork from the rental car agency. The paperwork required that the renter state which hotel he was staying at locally: the Gaylord Palms.

‘No shit,’ Thiery muttered.

Thiery finished cleaning the cut on the back of his head from the bar fight. It was a little tender, but didn’t feel like it needed stitches. He’d had worse.

It was almost 01:00 a.m. but Thiery guessed Logan was still awake. She’d always been a night owl. He called her number.

Logan picked up before the first ring tone had stopped. ‘Justin?’

‘Yeah. It’s me.’

‘Can’t sleep?’

‘Haven’t tried yet. Been a busy night.’

‘Oh?’

‘I need a favour, Sara.’

Logan smiled hopefully and looked at herself in the mirror. She was in her favourite lace teddy. Her nipples were pressed against the sheer fabric like flesh-coloured happy faces pressed against glass. She pulled at the points of her blonde tipped, spiky hair. She wondered if Thiery liked the new, short do. The thought came to her:
I wonder if he’d like to jumpstart where we’d left off … would I?

‘Anything you want, Justin,’ she said, embarrassed by the throaty sound of her own voice.
Jesus girl, control yourself! It can’t lead to anything other than trouble.

He hesitated, recognizing that sensuous change in her voice, trying to stay aloof. ‘I was involved in a shooting tonight,’ he said, ignoring her unspoken invitation. ‘We were tracking the Weisz woman. She was in Lake Wales in what I think was another safe haven for WITSEC.’

‘What?’ worry now in her voice.

‘Let me finish. I don’t have proof yet, and if my hunch is right, I don’t want to further jeopardize her, so I’m not going to say anything to the press. But, the governor made a big deal about putting the FDLE in charge of the case yesterday, so I’m going to have to say something to the media about why I can’t be lead anymore. I’m going to say I’m on administrative leave pending an investigation into the shooting incident, which is true, but I’m also going to try to reach out to her through that press release.’

‘What do you want me to do?’

‘I want you to take over the lead on the investigation.’

Logan thought about it for a moment. If he was right about the WITSEC connection, and the guns were transported interstate by a convicted felon, it would make the case federal and give her a reason to take a more active role in the investigation. Still, she wasn’t sure she wanted to put herself out there without authorization from her supervisor. Or, without getting something out of it.

‘I suppose I could … but it will cost you,’ she said coyly, ashamed of her own longing but so caught up in it now, she knew there was no turning back.
Why not,
she asked herself,
we don’t live forever.

Thiery again recognized that familiar honeyed tone she used when she wanted him. ‘C’mon, Sara. Quit fucking around. This is business.’

‘Don’t be a shit, Justin. Just once more, for old times’ sake?’ She closed her eyes and thought of him, his still athletic chest – she used to love to run her fingers through the hair like stroking a cat – his muscular shoulders and arms. The flat abs. The …
everything.
A guilt trip as the image of her husband flicked into her head, his kind, watery blue eyes and familiar smile gazing lovingly at her. Then she pictured his leathered skin, the ‘moobs’ – the sagging man boobs – of a man that, while a saint, displayed their age difference like a failed monument of
if only.
But Logan pushed past those thoughts.

She felt her pelvis grow heavy with lust and shivered as if she’d been electrocuted. ‘One more “roll in zee hay?”’ she said, weakly, hopefully, referring to the Teri Garr line from Mel Brooks’
Young Frankenstein
. She and Thiery had watched the movie on a rainy afternoon at her Ormond Beach house.

Thiery couldn’t help but smile from the memory. He could hear the waver in her voice, her breath almost ragged. She really had a problem, but what was he going to do? He shook his head, remembering how they were in bed, and found himself becoming aroused in spite of his reluctance to do so. Nothing good could come from it, but …

‘Okay,’ he said, relenting. ‘I’ve got one of the reporters staying here at my hotel. I’m going to wake him up and give him an exclusive. I’d like you to be here when I do that. But, I need to call my boss first. I also need another favour from you.’

Logan was sliding into tight stretch jeans as he spoke. She pulled the teddy over her head while she kept the phone to her ear. She shrugged into a white button down shirt and looked around for her FBI windbreaker. ‘Sure,’ she said, trying to hide the anticipation in her voice.

‘I’m going to text an attachment to you of the man I shot tonight. I think he and his brother, who was also killed at the scene, were hitmen. I don’t know their connection to Erica Weisz yet, but they’re out of Mexico, so I’m thinking there’s some drug cartel involved. Can you run their names through your database, and see if you can find anything on them?’

‘I’ll get right on it,’ she said, looking at her notes, ‘but I found something of interest today, too. We traced the guns used at the school back to a pawn shop in Vegas. I tried calling the owner, a hump named Tito Viveros, but he acted like the connection was bad and hung up on me. I’m going to have some agents drop in on him tomorrow and see if they can shake something out of him. If Shadtz transported the guns from Nevada to Florida…’

Thiery cut her off. ‘That makes it federal anyway.’

‘Yup.’ She was whispering as she trotted through the plush carpeted halls of the Gaylord, trying not to wake other occupants in the hotel but
so
eager to get with Thiery.

‘Even better,’ he said, trying to ascertain why she was speaking so low. ‘This could lead us to something that would substantiate Weisz being in the WITSEC programme.’

‘If she is, I should be able to find out.’

‘I’m not so sure about that. The US Marshals are pretty tight-lipped about their witnesses.’

‘So how did Mexican hitmen find Weisz in Bumfuck, Florida?’ Logan asked, but a thought—something about Wyatt Earp, a
marshal
—crept into her head.

‘Good question,’ said Thiery.

‘I’ll be at your hotel within the hour. Is that okay?’ She wondered if he could hear her heartbeat in her voice like she could in her own head.

‘Yeah,’ said Thiery, then almost reluctantly added, ‘Thanks for the help. I look forward to … seeing you,’ he added, trying to keep it cool and professional but knowing it wouldn’t be.

He hung up, distracted. Logan did that to him. He’d forgotten to tell her that the dead triggermen might have been staying at her hotel, according the rental car agency lease agreement.
No matter, he thought, they couldn’t hurt her or anyone else now
.

After the call to Logan, Thiery went to the bathroom, splashed some water in his face, and let it drip, undried, like an iceberg melting. He’d killed a man tonight; it wasn’t the first, might not be the last. He stared, regrettably, at his reflection in the hotel restroom.

Then he called Bullock.

‘Sorry to wake you, boss, but there’s been an incident.’

Bullock sat up and sipped the water on his nightstand to lubricate his throat. ‘When you say ‘incident’, Justin, it makes me uncomfortable.’

‘Don’t get riled, but I had to put a guy down tonight. You’re going to have to place me on administrative leave for an investigation.’

‘How is it you managed to kill someone while investigating a school shooting?’ he whispered, trying not to wake his wife.

‘Remember when I told you earlier that I had a feeling about Weisz and the WITSEC programme? Well, I’m almost sure of it, now. We tracked her down tonight, but missed. Then a couple out of country hitmen showed up at the place she was staying. Now, they’re both dead and so are a few of the locals that came looking for her.’

‘Jesus. Sounds like the wild west down there.’

‘Oh, it’s non-stop fun. Did I thank you for sending me down here?’

‘Sorry, kid, but you play the hand you’re dealt,’ he said, sliding out of bed. He bumped down the hall on the way to the kitchen, rubbing his face to wake himself up. ‘Speaking of WITSEC, I talked to Ron Sales, my friend from the US Marshal’s Office, about meeting for lunch tomorrow, and he said he was up to his ears with some shit. So I pushed him on the magician thing you were talking about. Are you ready for this?’

‘
Shoot.
Uh, my bad. Go ahead.’

‘Smart ass. Anyway, he confirmed it. He said he couldn’t reveal who was in the programme, but that there is a programme where witnesses are renamed after magicians. The idea is that they’re supposed to
disappear
, you know, for a period of time. He also said there was another programme named after Hollywood starlets because, he said, “they’re here one day and gone the next”. And another one named after animals that are extinct. Clever, huh?’

‘So there might be a Dorothy Dodo out there?’ said Thiery, exhausted but somehow amused. ‘Who writes their programmes for them, Jimmy Fallon?’

‘I know, right?’ Bullock hesitated. ‘So, this shooting, it was justified, I assume?’

‘Of course, Jim’ said Thiery, a weariness seeping in. ‘When I got to the scene there were already a half-dozen guys on the ground. The perp, a guy name Alejandro Lopez, was firing off an assault weapon like he was going into Kandahar. Had to put him down. And get this, he shot and killed Coody’s father.’

‘The kid from the school shooting?’

‘Same one.’

‘Je-sus H. Christ. Now, who the hell can I get down there to take your place?’

‘Uh, I’ve asked Sara Logan to take over as lead.’

‘Oh, really? You getting back into that?’

‘Trying not to,’ he said, knowing full well he wasn’t trying hard enough, ‘but she is here and I needed her help. Besides, if this WITSEC thing turns out to be true, we’re going to need her.’

‘Explain that to me. I’m still not quite awake.’ He found some coffee left over from the morning, poured a cup and put it in the microwave, then sipped it black as steam rose off of it.

‘Well, she’s federal. We can’t seem to get behind closed doors at the US Marshal’s Office, but she might be able to. If Weisz is in the programme, and some hit men came here to find her, it can only mean one thing: someone, like a US Marshal, has given her up.’

‘Oh, man. You can’t keep things simple, can you?’

‘C’mon, boss. I didn’t start this thing. I’m just trying to get ahead of it before the body count gets any higher.’

Thiery could hear Bullock sighing over the phone. ‘Okay, let’s make it official,’ the boss said. ‘At, let me see … as of 1:30 a.m., you are officially on administrative leave, pending the on duty shooting of a suspect. I’m guessing you won’t come home to kick back and get some sun by the pool?’

‘You got that right. On admin leave, I can still advise the lead agent in the course of an investigation, right?’

‘Technically, yes.’

‘Then that’s what I’m going to do.’

‘Okay, Justin. Do what you got to do. But, stay safe and try not to embarrass the department. Cool?’

‘Like ice, boss.’

Thiery hung up just as he heard a quiet knock on the door. He opened it, and Logan rushed into the room. She ripped off her FBI windbreaker and, still wearing her shoulder holster, wrapped her arms around Thiery, practically squeezing the air out of him. Thiery had forgotten how strong she was from years of swimming. He tried to gently disentangle himself, but, when he looked down into her face, her eyes had that
do-me-now
look, her lips parted and wet. She rose up on her tiptoes and stuck her tongue into his mouth. His conscience tried to kick in, recalling: she’d dropped him before, the hurt, the guilt, his sense of loss, but it all fell away with that kiss, and the only thing that filled his mind now was the want for her.

A half-hour later, they were in the shower rinsing away the sweat of their exertions, trying to regain some professionalism, before they went to Dave Gruber’s room to give him the exclusive.