Shielding Aubree (The Shield #1)

Chapter 12

12

T he man sitting across from her was Prosecutor Shannon Kepler.

Aubree would never forget that name.

If it was up to the man sitting across from her, she'd likely be crying into a drink every night for the rest of her life.

He seemed to have issues .

Lots of them.

But at the moment, he really seemed to have a prosecutorial hard on for making her life suck.

And he was really good at it.

He took another file out of his briefcase and set it on the table between them, his fingers pressing down the cover of it so she couldn't take it or open it.

He'd done the same thing with her four times already.

He gave her another smug look, lifting up one brow as he started to speak. "New Mexico Case 202524243. Laurel Able-"

"Case 202524248."

Startled, he stopped speaking and looked at her. "What?"

"You said 202524243. It's 202524248, sir."

His eyes narrowed and he leaned forward to look at the tab on the folder.

"Huh. It is an eight." He looked up at her and back down again, spinning the folder around to look at the numbers. "How did you see that from your seat across the table?"

"I didn't need to see it, sir. Once you said Laurel Able, I knew the case number."

He pulled back an inch or two, his gaze fixing on her face with a glare of suspicion. "You mean to tell me that you know the numbers on these case files."

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

Again, he glared back at her. "Are you telling me that you're some kind of Rainman?"

Aubree steeled herself and managed to keep a bland and hopefully professional look on her face. "No, sir. I believe that Raymond Babbitt was an autistic savant. I'm neither. I just know my cases."

Shannon looked at her as if he was looking through a microscope. "Who is Raymond Babbitt? What does he have to do with the case?"

Aubree licked at her lips and felt a slight tug of pain as her air-conditioner dried lips started to crack. "Raymond Babbitt doesn't have anything to do with the case."

He shook his head as if he was trying to clear out cobwebs or jog something loose. "Then why did you mention him?"

Aubree leaned back against the chair and barely held back an audible groan. Her back was starting to kill her, and she couldn't see the end of this conference in sight. "You asked me if I was like Rainman. The character of Rainman was played by Dustin Hoffman and-"

"See?" Shannon waved his hand at her, his elbow poking into the tabletop. "Now you're mentioning this Hoffman guy."

Aubree wanted to drop her head down to the tabletop and sob.

Obviously, the prosecutor wasn't a man who liked films.

She wasn't a big fan of Rainman the film itself, but her father and mother liked the film. She'd watched it as a child by default, just being in the room with them. Her older brothers had been able to escape the movie. She'd been stuck but enjoyed some of it. Not so much the Tom Cruise character but Dustin Hoffman's.

"So are you going to tell me that these people aren't involved in the case?"

Aubree barely kept herself in the chair across from the irritating man.

If she didn't want to keep her job, she could stand up, stretch her back and tell this... man what she really thought about his mental acuity.

And really, if she was honest with herself, it wasn't the job that kept her in her seat and struggling to be civil with him. She really did want to see these cases through to the end. Not for the police or the government, but for the victims of these crimes.

She'd just spent the last two hours going through every little aspect of the cases and proving that her memory as far as her case work was ironclad.

Maybe he was just tired, but she was too. If he was looking for some indication that she was having issues with her memories about her cases.

Aubree was about ready to push back from the table and ask for a break.

A knock on the conference room door turned Aubree's attention away from the prosecutor and her dwindling patience.

The woman standing in the doorway looked like a Hispanic version of Wonder Woman in her 'undercover' garb. Her suit coat was tailored to her form and Aubree felt more than a little self-conscious in front of her. Her NMPD uniform was pretty bland and shapeless as it fit men and women on the job.

Reaching into her coat, the woman at the door pulled out a leather folio and opened it. "Alara Aparicio. FBI Special Agent." She gave the prosecutor a flat look before she lifted a brow in his direction. "Can we have the room?"

Aubree barely kept her expression in control as the prosecutor stood and started to shuffle his papers into his briefcase.

He wasn't making much if any effort to do it quickly, giving Aubree pointed looks while he did it. He'd been ready to come across the desk at her a moment before, so the timing of the FBI agent had been a miracle. A godsend.

Agent Aparicio moved to the edge of the desk and tapped her fingers on the hard laminated surface just inches from the prosecutor's briefcase.

When he gave her a furious side-eye look, she looked right back at him. "I have pressing business to discuss with Officer Cueva."

He turned his upper body toward the agent, a stiff, almost robotic movement. "I have urgent business with her about her official cases." He lifted his chin in the direction of the FBI Agent and raised his thick brows. "I'd like to think active prosecutable cases would be more important than whatever," he gestured with his hand in weak circles, "little conversation you two ladies might want to have."

Agent Aparicio straightened her spine and Aubree's lips thinned into a tight line as she tried not to draw the prosecutor's attention.

She didn't have to worry for long, because the Agent stepped in and took live fire.

"I've already spoken to District Attorney Rowser. He is well aware of my presence here today and I'm sure that he won't appreciate the way that you're trying to dismiss my request to confer with Officer Cueva. I'm happy to make it a demand and bring DA Rowser into the situation, but I also want to let you know that I'm going to tell him what I heard during the last twenty minutes of your interrogation of Officer Cueva."

The man sputtered like a walrus, his chest puffing out in an almost comical manner. Aubree would have laughed at the man if she wasn't so pissed off and exhausted.

"I've read the letter from her neurologist and after watching her detail the evidence and accurately recounting her report from the incidents you were investigating, I don't see where you'd have a concern about her recall or her chances in court. What I do wonder if there's a reason why you seem to be looking for an excuse to tank these cases."

Aubree's eyes widened at the other woman's words.

"How dare you!" The prosecutor seemed to be just as shocked. "I have one of the best records in my office."

Alara pulled out her cell phone and flicked her finger across the screen and opened up an app. "You've had Officer Cueva as your main law enforcement witness on three of your court cases before her accident and each of those cases you've won."

Alara flicked her finger across the screen and brought up another file. "According to the survey of the jurors after each of those cases, she was also your best witness overall. Every juror, when asked, cited her memory and her personal conviction of the evidence as one of the main reasons they voted to convict."

Shannon folded his arms across his barrel-chest. "I know how to prep my witnesses."

Aubree felt a little light-headed with the FBI agent sighed as if the man was wasting her time.

"Then I need the room. You can head back to the office. I’m sure the District Attorney would like to talk to you."

Shannon's mouth gaped open for a moment before he clamped his lips shut.

With that, he reached down, grabbed a hold of the files and papers, crumpling many of them in his haste and shoveled them into his briefcase.

Aubree wasn't sure but she thought she heard him grumbling something about "meddling bitches," as he stormed down the hall.

She didn't know what to make of that. Shannon had a tendency to be short with her, but she'd just chalked it up to him being a pompous ass, but apparently it was also her sex.

Not that it was completely unheard of in the course of her daily work.

Sometimes that fact that she had breasts made it seem reasonable for some men and women to look down at her for wearing the uniform.

"What an unmitigated ass!" Agent Aparicio moved the chair that Shannon was using away from the table and brought another chair forward and sat down. "I was tired of waiting for him to get his shit together. You really do have a stellar memory."

Aubree sat back against her chair. "Except for twelve hours of my life. Most of that is a blank."

"Most?" Alara leaned in against the table. "You remember something?"

Aubree shrugged. "I wasn't exactly looking at a watch so all I can do is gauge it by the timeline of what the investigators came up with. I remember coming around and then there was some time when I was awake but waiting for someone to find me. Basically twelve hours of my life. Poof. Gone."

For an FBI Agent, Alara seemed really... normal.

Not that she'd met any before her, but she'd always thought that federal agents would be a little more... buttoned up.

Alara tapped her fingers on the table between them. "Well, your accident is why I came to see you today."

"My crash?"

Aubree narrowed her eyes at the agent for a moment, struggling to realize why her near-death experience would be of any interest to anyone outside of her life.

"What specifically?"

Alara reached out her leg and with the toe of her boot, she kicked the door closed.

"There were certain 'markers' in the report that caught my attention. I'm not from New Mexico," Alara explained, "I'm from the San Antonio area." She scrolled through her phone and opened a file before turning it around so that Aubree could see it.

Alara swept through half a dozen photos.

Women.

All of them looked to about her age and likeness.

Alara gave her the names to go with the faces and continued. "These women all went missing somewhere between work and home. All of them died in their cars, apparently victims of crashes and related injuries."

Aubree narrowed her eyes at Alara's words. "Apparently?" She sat back and thought through the other words the agent had used. "Related injuries."

One end of Alara's mouth quirked up. "I had a feeling you'd get it. It wasn't until we looked deeper into the deaths when we were putting the pieces together. It wasn't pretty when we requested to disinter five bodies across three states."

"Five." Aubree felt the weight of that single word on her shoulders. "In Texas?"

Alara shook her head. "Two in Texas. Two in Louisiana. One in New Mexico." It seemed like Alara waited for the words to sink in before she continued. "One body had been cremated."

Aubree fixed her gaze on the other woman. There was something about the sound of her voice or the look in her eyes that said there was more to the story than what the FBI agent was saying.

"What does that body have to do with me?"

"Very smart." Alara smiled and nodded, slowly. "That body had been found within fifteen miles of your crash. The time frame was nearly identical." Alara touched a button, and the screen of her phone went dark. "They only found her because they were looking for you, Aubree. The medical examiner had initially classified it as an accidental death like the others. There's no real way to determine if she was the victim of the same unnamed subject that we're tracking."

Aubree's mind was working a mile a minute. "Two in each state. That tells me that you weren't expecting three here in New Mexico." Aubree breathed in to calm her nerves. "Why do you think I'm involved? If they are killing two per state, then he has his two. Wouldn't it make more sense that he'd move on to another state."

She felt her hands shake and laid them on her thighs under the table to calm them, but her heel started to bounce with nervous energy.

Alara opened her phone again and opened another app. This time when she set the phone down on the table, Aubree's throat went dry.

The image on the phone was her own face. An evidentiary photo taken by her father and submitted in the report.

Aubree saw Alara point to the darkened area around her throat in the photo. "I see from the notes that it was your father who took the photo."

"My mom said it was because he was just upset that he hadn't been there for me, so he wanted to document it, but I knew the look I saw on his face. There was something bothering him about the accident."

Alara nodded. "It's an instinct thing."

The FBI Agent touched her fingertip to the screen and flicked the image to the side.

The image that came up after it looked like it came straight out of a horror film.

It was the same image as before, but the contrast was bumped up so high it looked like the image had been burned with fire in places.

"It's not a perfect rendering," Alara explained. "But I went on a hunt for evidence, and you can see it here." Her finger trailed along one side of Aubree's neck and then the other side, slowing over the darkest shadows. "Do you see what I see?"

Aubree felt her heart stop for a moment and then when it started up again it pounded against her ribs like a timpani drum.

Breathe.

Her fingers pinched her thigh just above her knee, searching for purchase enough to cause herself some pain.

Breathe, Aubree.

"Fingers."

The word slipped free of her lips before she could stop herself.

Alara's expression had sobered, darkened with shadows that Aubree didn't want to name.

"We took high contrast photos of the... of the bodies of the other victims and each one had the same traits."

Aubree felt her own pulse pounding in her throat as Alara spelled out the truth that Aubree didn't want to hear.

"We have a serial killer on our hands, Officer Cueva, and I think he's going to come back for you."

Aubree made it to the corner of the room, nearly to the door when she dropped down to her knees and emptied her already empty stomach into the trash can.

Ruben sat back on the bench near the pool and stretched out his legs. He stole a glance over at his cell phone he'd set beside his thigh.

No new messages.

No calls.

Frowning, he wondered if he was making too much out of it.

One of the double doors out to the pool swung open and Ruben looked up to see Finn walk in with another man.

Catching Finn's eye, Ruben got up on his feet and found a smile for the new man.

Finn stopped a step away from him and Ruben held out his hand to shake the stranger's hand.

"Ruben, this is Jagger. Jagger Kline. He comes to us from ATF."

The hand that met Ruben's was cold, almost clammy, but one look at the man beside Finn, Ruben knew that it wasn't what Jagger was like all the time. Working at the Refuge, Ruben had met men and women in various stages of pain, suffering, and recovery. Jagger had a long way to go, but the fact that he still reached out to shake hands with a stranger. He was strong where it counted. He wasn't giving up. That boded well for his recovery. That spirit of reaching out?

That counted.

For a lot.

"Will I get to see you here at the pool?"

Jagger turned his head and looked at the pool, currently empty. "I used to like swimming."

Ruben felt his physical reaction to the other man's words and put it away before Jagger looked back at him. "I hope we can help you like it again."

He saw Finn's expression and knew there was a story behind it.

He wasn't going to ask about it in front of their client.

"Hey," he lifted a hand and rubbed at the back of his neck, "I was just about to sit down and put my feet in the pool. Care to join me?"

The look on Jagger's face spoke volumes. It said that Ruben was on the right track, but it wasn't going to be about pushing. It never was.

"I've been trying to get a hold of my girlfriend," Ruben tried to ignore Finn's curious look, "I haven't been able to get her on the phone and I'm trying not to worry."

Ruben looked at Jagger, meeting the other man's gaze.

Giving the man a rueful smile, Ruben toed off one sneaker and then the other before he lifted a foot to strip off his socks. "I'm going to stick my feet in the water and cool off a little."

Ruben saw Finn's curious look change to a smile where he was standing, slightly behind Jagger. "Join me?"

Jagger rubbed one palm off on his pants leg. "Yeah?" Then he wiped off the other. "Yeah." Jagger looked at Finn. "I know we still have some of the grounds tour left to do."

Finn shrugged and took a step off to the side. "We can finish it later." He lifted his chin at Ruben. "Go ahead and call me when you're both done and if I'm not available..."

Ruben gave him a salute. "Will do."

As Finn walked away, he turned and gave Ruben a thankful smile.

Ruben was happy to help. If Jagger had an interest in working in the pool, this was a good place to start.

Ruben reached down and rolled up the cuffs on his slacks. "ATF?"

Jagger had found a chair and was untying his laces. "Yeah. Up until a couple of weeks ago. It's up in the air if I'm going back."

Ruben nodded as he sat down on the edge of the pool. "Aubree, my girlfiend,” he clarified, “just went back to work at NMPD. She was here at the Refuge for a couple of weeks."

One of Jagger's boots dropped to the flagstones beside the pool. "She was a client here?"

Ruben turned and saw Jagger's curious look. "We waited to date after she left the Refuge."

Jagger shrugged. "I wasn't trying to judge. I know how hard it is to find someone in this world. It's hard enough to bump into the right person without putting more obstacles between you."

"You're with someone?"

Jagger dropped his other boot to the deck. "Not anymore."

Ruben didn't ask for details as he sat down and set his feet in the cool water with a sigh.

"I was part of a raid where we confiscated a shit ton of weapons and drugs. The largest raid in our agency's history."

Ruben moved his feet through the water and turned to look at Jagger as the other man slipped his feet into the water beside him.

"It turns out taking that amount of shit from the bad guys makes them angry."

Jagger leaned back, bracing his hands on the deck behind him, tilting his face up into the late afternoon sunlight.

"My fiancée was another officer on our task force."

Was.

Ruben didn't miss the words he'd used, but one of them rang out louder than the rest.

"We had scheduled a meeting with our supervisor. We knew we had to come clean with the others about our relationship and the brass if we didn't want to get sanctions or suspensions, but it turned out we didn't need the meeting after all."

Ruben nodded and concentrated on the cool swish of water across his skin. "Did it happen during the raid?"

"No." Jagger sat up and folded his fingers together as he leaned forward on his thighs. "In my house. Someone had leaked the addresses of our team. From the messages that I found on my phone after, she'd gone to my house to wait for me and took the bullet meant for me." Jagger's voice was shaking but instead of tears, Ruben could feel the anger rolling off of the other man in waves, followed by the aching sadness that wasn't far behind.

The emotions he could feel coming from Jagger stole his breath. And when you couldn't breathe, steadying breaths didn't do much to help.

Ruben felt Jagger's pain in his own chest and out of the other man's sight, he wrapped his hand around his phone, willing Aubree to answer him back, just to tell him that she was okay.

A harsh wind blew across the surface of the pool and chilled Ruben to the bone.

Jagger sighed and his chin dropped down to his chest. "It doesn't matter how you met her, man. Don't waste a single fucking moment."

"Yeah." Ruben nodded, his voice raw in his throat. "Yeah."