Caribbean Rain (17 page)

The men turned on their heels and did as they were told, pronto.

Swearing, she brought the gun down again, releasing more of that sickening sound.

Taking one more step, Manny saw the object of her rage: the biggest black rat he’d ever seen. His mind went back to the alley in Lansing where he’d found Detective Ross’s body. The rats scurrying around there had been half the size of this one. Startling, no question, but. . .

“Julia! What the hell are you doing? You freaking shot a rat twice and now are beating it for good measure?” said Ruiz, shaking his head. “There’s enough damned tension in this place without you pulling that shit.”

Detective Crouse stood, wiping at the blood on her knee. “You don’t know, Ruiz, you don’t know—”

“I know this. You gotta file a report on why you discharged your gun, especially in this morgue, and in the midst of an investigation that makes Jack the Ripper look like a ballet recital.”

By now, Sophie was giggling. Chloe had turned her face, then blurted out a laugh. Alex was staring at the ceiling, trying not to explode. The only face showing the same emotion as Crouse was Dean’s. There are looks of fear, then ones of pure terror. Dean apparently carried the latter contemplation for rats, particularly one the size of a large tomcat.

After cleaning the blood and hair from the butt of her handgun with a gloved hand, Crouse holstered the gun, regained her poise, and got into Ruiz’s face.

“Listen, peckerhead. That rat jumped out of the ceiling and ran right over my feet. You know I have a thing for them anyway, so what part of that brain of yours thinks I’d let this bitch live?”

Chloe, Sophie, and Alex laughed again, with more gusto.

There was a rush of commotion, and suddenly Josh was in between Ruiz and Crouse, a look on his face Manny had only seen one other time. Rage wasn’t his MO, usually.

He grabbed Detective Crouse’s arm and brought her face so close to his that Manny thought he was going to bite her.

“You’re the peckerhead, detective. I don’t give a shit about any of your damned phobias. You just disrupted a crime scene investigation that has at least eight people dead. Not to mention, you’re shooting your weapon in a closed area. A damned rat? What the hell’s wrong with you? People die from ricochets, not to mention you flat out scared the living hell out of every one of us. For what?”

There was an abrupt end to the laughing. It was replaced with shock and silence.

Been waiting for this.

“I’m sor—sorry. I—”

“I don’t want a freaking apology. I want you to act like a detective, not a damned schoolgirl who is petrified of rodents, for God’s sake. You could have killed someone. If you pull anything like that again, I’ll make damned sure you’re writing parking tickets on the streets of Old San Juan so fast, you’ll think you were riding a time machine. You get what I’m saying?”

Walking up to Josh, Manny reached for his arm, intending to pull him away from Crouse. Ruiz beat him to it.

“Agent, she screwed up. We’re all feeling the—”

Josh whirled around and bumped Ruiz before Manny could intervene.

“You keep her together, or the same thing goes for you. I’m tired of this local incompetence shit. Got me?”

Ruiz took a step back, surprise registered on his weathered face.

Josh spun on his heels and strode away from the detectives . . . and confronted his team.

It’s catching up to him, all of it.

He opened his mouth to speak, glanced at Manny, then slowly dropped his head to his chest. Tears glistened in his striking eyes.

Manny walked over to his good friend and leaned close. “Let’s go to my office and talk for a minute, okay?”

Josh nodded, and they headed for the men’s room.

“You guys get organized, and please get rid of that rodent disguised as King Kong. We’ll be back.”

Standing with his back to Manny, Josh held both hands on the marbled countertop, looking deep into one of the stained sinks. Manny leaned against the wall, folded his arms, and waited.

“So, was I a little harsh?” Josh asked, not looking up.

“Oh, hell no. Everyone’s used to you losing it, especially on a couple of the locals. It helps with the public relations part of our job.”

“Screw you.”

“Ah well, you’re not my type. Besides, that was a pretty good bend job without any of my help.”

Josh’s shoulders sagged. “Yeah, I suppose it was.”

Manny shifted his weight. “Remember when we were in Ireland, and you told me I was in denial, and you’d be there when I wanted to talk?”

“I do, and we talked later.”

“Your turn.”

Josh nodded. “I’ve got other . . . pressures right now.”

“Not to mention, you looked at Caleb’s file, right?”

“Couldn’t help it,” he whispered. “But I couldn’t get past the first picture.”

“It’s always different when it’s someone you know and love,” said Manny.

His thoughts went back to Liz Casnovsky and Lexy Crosby on the cruise ship. He felt his gut tighten. Another way this job sucked the life out of you like some new-born Succubus feasting on its first kill.

“That’s not all, Josh. I know you were freaked out by the crash too, but what else?”

He let out a breath. “Oddly, the crash didn’t bother me all that much. I figured with all the other shit going on in my life, maybe a quick trip to the afterlife wouldn’t be all that bad.”

“Spill it. What else?” he asked softly.

Josh held Manny’s eyes and then slowly sank to the floor; the tears were no longer hiding behind the tough exterior.

He spoke in a voice that hardly sounded like a confident, organized leader, but instead a broken, lost man.

“Losing Caleb is bad enough, but Manny, I don’t know if I can do this, this assistant director’s job. They’ve been grooming me, and I jumped into the fire, but I’m really feeling it. Making decisions that could get people killed isn’t where I want to be. What if I mess up and someone does die? Maybe even one of you.”

He licked his lips, and kept going. “The stress is insane. I’ve seen this job kill better people than me. The AD they want me to replace tried to commit suicide. He said he couldn’t take it anymore. You’ve talked to Dickman; you know what he’s like. I don’t want that. But if I say no, put a fork in me, I’m done. I’ll get assigned to the mail room.”

He shook his head without looking up. “Some of the things that go on . . . well, you have no idea. Not to mention, it’s more time away from Nikki and the boys. We’re already fighting about that.”

In a split second, Manny felt what Josh was feeling—a hopelessness that batters you when your rock, your reason for living, is suddenly jerked from your life. Josh’s job had become that.

They call me a workaholic. . .

He stood quietly and waited for Josh to find solid ground. A few minutes later, after the tears dried up, he watched part of Josh Corner’s famous resolve return to his face. It was time for one more question.

“Is that all?”

“Is that all? Hell, ain’t that enough?”

“No, I mean is there anything else?”

“Let’s see. I almost die in a plane crash that almost killed two pilots with families. I lose my brother to a freaking lunatic with a slaughterhouse fantasy, my wife and I are fighting, and I want a job that might destroy my life, killing me in the process. I guess that covers it.”

He reached down to help Josh off the floor. “You forgot something.”

“I think I’d remember anything else, but since you’re the damned profiler, what’d I forget?”

“Remember that line in that old movie that’s says something about love means not having to say you’re sorry?”

“Yeah, I do. It’s one of Nikki’s favorites, so?”

“That doesn’t work here. I don’t think Crouse and Ruiz are loving your ass right now.”

Sighing, he smiled a weary smile. “I don’t suppose they do. You’re right. I owe them an apology. Let’s go. And Manny, thanks. I just couldn’t—”

“Hey, that’s what I’m here for.”

“Ever think about throwing up a shingle?”

“A counselor? Hell no, this job gives me all of the problems I need.”

Splashing water on his face, Josh took a deep breath, and pushed through the door, looking a little more like the man Manny had come to know.

Once back in the lobby, Josh motioned to his team and the two detectives.

The six gathered round him, everyone looking at the floor, faces tight. Manny stood behind Josh, a little to his right.

“Detectives, I . . . listen, that’s not my style, and I apologize. It’s been a hell of a day and I’m tired. No excuse, but it’s the best I’ve got.” He stuck out his hand.

Ruiz shook it right away, wearing a grin. “You could be Latino with that temper and a few of those looks.”

Crouse reluctantly reached for his hand, a cold stare shining in her big eyes. “You get a pass on this one,” she said. “But not again.”

“Fair enough. Don’t shoot anymore rats in a tight area like this, endangering my team and others, and we won’t have another problem. Deal?”

Her stare intensified. Then she nodded, lips tight and arms folded across her chest.

Josh returned the nod and then did what he does best: took charge. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. Alex, you and Dean will have to process this place tonight. You can get some help from the night crew from our local FBI ERT group. Remember, you won’t be waiting on the CSU report—you’ll be doing it. You’re now a Fed, so we’ll be waiting on you.”

“Got it. We’ll need access to ViCAP, IAFIS, and CODIS to run any prints and DNA we might find.”

Reaching into his pocket, Josh handed Alex a small, sealed envelope.

“These are your very own access codes and logins. You won’t need to wait on anyone, at least for the ViCAP information. You’ll need lab reports for the DNA, but CODIS has a new process for the field. If you find a good print, or even a partial, download the picture and the scanner at the database in Quantico will do the rest. Something about high resolution scanners that are a hundred times more sensitive than the last ones we had.”

“I read about those. Awesome,” said Dean.

Sophie rolled her eyes. “You science guys are all alike. If it has circuits or latex, you don’t need a date.”

“I don’t know, Agent Lee, I like dates, just don’t get many,” answered Dean.

“Well, shut my mouth. I’m shocked,” grinned Sophie.

Was that a little more than grin?

Manny thought it was.

Josh picked up the focus. “We can talk about your love lives later—ah, never mind. I don’t want to know. The rest of us are going to interview anyone who’s willing to come in to talk to the cops and the FBI at 10 p.m. We also need to find this Fogerty character. He could be a key, even though Manny thinks not; we still need to make sure. Also, I want everyone at the hotel and in bed—alone—by two a.m.” He glanced at Chloe who had moved closer to Manny. She was touching his arm with hers.

“What?” she asked. “My intentions are honorable. Sort of.”

Ruiz’s phone rang, and he stepped closer to the large windows on the south side of the room.

He then snapped the phone shut and returned to the group. His body language was less than encouraging.

“We got good news and bad news. The good news is that Randall Fogerty is awaiting us at HQ. Seems he made a call, and he’s no longer in cuffs, but wants to talk to us about what happened to his daughter.”

“Well, we get to put one theory to rest, or not, tonight. What’s the bad news?” asked Manny.

The SJPD detective shifted his weight. “It seems there was a package delivered to my desk a few minutes ago.”

“You get those all of the time,” said Crouse.

“Yeah, but this one’s leaking blood.”

Chapter-32

Standing in the soft light emanating from the lamp, he scanned the room slowly, listening intently as he did. The window was still sealed and remained unbroken. He’d locked the door from the outside so there was no way she could escape, especially in her condition. She was still here.

Another game to play?

He was beginning to enjoy that part of his crusade far more than he would have suspected.

“Come out, Miss Anna. Come out wherever you are,” he sang.

The room was large by any standards. It included its own bathroom with a Jacuzzi tub, two separate closets, and a mauve motif. He’d designed it just for his mother, and she’d loved it. She had used the tub nightly during her short visit. He recalled the loud, unrestrained laughter each time she stepped into the bubbling, steamy water.

You won’t hear that anymore though.

That dark, inner voice was in the house.

The remote for the Blu-ray player sat on the dresser untouched for all of these weeks. He remembered his mother turning on the forty-six-inch HDTV only once. That was to catch up on a couple of game shows she loved to watch.

Running his hand over the bed, he began to circle toward the first closet. It occurred to him that this room also doubled as the last place his mother had slept. In spite of the good things he wanted to dwell on, the truth was large; it always is.

Again, he wondered how his life, and hers, would be today if he hadn’t come to visit his island, and if he hadn’t introduced her to his mistress.

You know how things would be, don’t you?

Anger was building up a little steam, and he felt his pulse pound in his head. He closed his eyes and pushed it away. It worked, but it was becoming harder. The rage simply had to have its say.

Reaching the first door, he noticed the blood on the door knob. His smile returned. He thought his Anna brighter than to leave a trail a blind man could follow. But maybe she just wasn’t thinking straight. Intense pain can have that effect.

Gripping the brass knob, he bent low and pulled the door open in a fluid motion. Expecting to see her wielding some sort of weapon, he jumped back and waited.

Nothing.

He searched the floor of the closet, feeling both left and right. His newly discovered friend wasn’t there.

“Clever girl,” he said out loud.

Moving slowly, he stepped away from the open closet door and moved around the antique oak dresser, catching his reflection in the old, wavy mirror.