Bloodlust

Chapter 41

After thanking the US marshal for not hanging up on him, Mitch immediately disconnected and practically jogged across the CAP unit, almost running smack dab into Clarence, who placed himself directly in his path.

“Uh, Mitch, I—”

“Not now, Clarence,” he said, edging around him. “They’re waiting on me. Catch you later.”

He opened John’s office door and barged in even as he apologized for being late. “I was following up with the lady who delivered Malone’s finger,” he lied. “She had the gift of gab.”

John asked, “Anything new there?”

Before Mitch could reply, Nix chimed in. “I talked to her earlier.”

Mitch was relieved to yield the floor to her, which she readily seized.

“Houma PD is checking security cameras in the area of the strip center where the courier business is located. No vehicle has been isolated yet. So far all they’ve got is an unrecognizable individual in a hoodie arriving on foot, dropping the package on the doormat, and then taking off at a sprint. ”

Lear deadpanned, “That narrows it down.”

Nix turned to Mitch. “Somebody wanted you to receive that package awfully bad.”

“Go figure. It’s not even my birthday.”

“Any idea who sent it?”

“Yes.”

That goosed a surprised reaction from her, and even from Lear, but John was quick to say, “Mitch and I have been following some leads, but so far they’re unsupported.”

“Unsupported?” Mitch said with incredulity. “Like hell.”

John gave him a quelling look, but didn’t address the outburst or the anger behind it. He began passing along to Nix and Lear information that Mitch already knew about Roland Malone. He only half listened, his mind on what arm-twisting and bartering tactics Marshal Greer was using on Davis.

He tuned back in when John asked the two detectives if they’d seen the BOLO for a person of interest on the Malone homicide.

“David Rodriguez,” Nix said with her know-it-all briskness. “Goes by El Paso.”

John said, “That’s where he’s from and where he’s well known to authorities in Texas and Mexico.

He’s a member of the Caballeros. If he was their emissary to New Orleans to negotiate a deal with Malone, who it’s generally believed was active in our regional drug trade, the meeting must’ve gone south. ”

Lear asked, “Was Malone affiliated with Oz?”

“As yet unproven but suspected,” John replied.

Nix said, “Maybe Malone was Oz.”

Mitch, seated with his elbow propped on the chair’s armrest and his hand cupped over his mouth, said, “He wasn’t.”

Nix didn’t relent. “The cartel might have sent El Paso here to eliminate the competition. If Malone was Oz, mission accomplished.”

“But Malone wasn’t Oz.”

Mitch’s second mumbled contradiction caused her to bristle. “How do you know?”

He lowered his hands and answered quietly but clearly. “Malone was an assassin who did Oz’s killing for him. But it has occurred to me that possibly Oz himself was behind Malone’s murder. Maybe he was looking to replace Malone as his chief hit man, and killing Malone was El Paso’s audition.”

Nix scoffed. “What reason would Oz have to replace his chief hit man?”

“I guess he fell out of favor.”

“Guess being the operative word,” she said.

Mitch barely restrained himself from giving her the finger.

Lear was expressing his own skepticism. “If El Paso went over to Oz, Caballeros would consider him a traitor. He’d be signing his own death warrant.”

“Just a theory,” Mitch said.

“Based on what?” Nix asked.

Mitch had no time to answer because his phone vibrated. It was sitting on his thigh. He glanced down at it, grabbed it, and shot out of his chair. “I’ve got to take this.”

“An emergency with Hank? Andrew?” John asked.

“No, but it’s important.”

John stood up. “This meeting is pretty damn important, too, Mitch.”

“And this is pertinent to it,” he said in a raised voice. “I’m taking the call.” He flung open the door, stepped out, and brought the phone up to his ear. “It’s me. What?”

Jim Tucker said, “Raid was a success. Three truckloads of product seized. A much larger haul than we even estimated.”

“Casualties?”

“Not a single nick on our side, but three of Oz’s men and two of the Caballeros are in body bags.”

“El Paso?”

“A no-show.”

“What?”

“Two of his compadres escaped capture, but the rest are in custody and being interrogated. They’re playing deaf, dumb, and ignorant, but one spat when the agent asked about David Rodriguez aka El Paso.

Apparently he was expected on the battle front, but went AWOL. Anyway, he’s still unaccounted for.”

“Fuck!”

“Right. Gotta go. Later.”

When the overhead light came on in Dylan’s inner office, the young man sitting behind her desk with his muddy sneakers propped on a corner of it smiled with insolence. “Hi.”

She turned and ran, but he was on her before she got halfway through the sessions room, grabbing her around the waist, pulling her back against him, and placing the blade of a knife—she knew it to be a switchblade—against the top of her neck directly beneath her chin.

He said, “He told me you’d come here today, and hell if he wasn’t right.”

“Who told you that?”

“What he didn’t tell me is that you’re a looker.” He blew hot breath into her ear, then laughed when she shuddered. “Don’t like that? I can always think of something else to do.” Then his tone changed as he asked, “Is the detective with you?”

“I’m alone. Can’t you tell that?”

“A looker full of sass. I like it.” He squeezed her waist. “There must be an elevator back there, right? I heard it coming up. Only one set of footsteps between it and the door you unlocked to let yourself in. So it’s just you and me.”

His insinuating tone made her shiver on the inside, but, as though she had the upper hand, she asked, “How did you get into my office?”

“Came through your lobby. Very nice. Magazines, water cooler. I helped myself to several pieces of candy. Hope you don’t mind.”

“That door was locked.”

“Oh, I know. I had to pick it. Locked it back up after I came in.”

Mitch could pick locks. She thought of him with yearning and desperation. Thought of his last kiss and his adamant promise to come back. She thought of how forlorn Andrew had looked when she’d dropped him and Beth at the Bowies’ house.

“Where’s my daddy?” he’d asked in a whine. “When’s he coming?”

“As soon as he and your uncle John get finished with their work.”

“Will you?”

“Come back, you mean?” And when he nodded, she’d said, “If you want me to.”

He’d thrown his arms around her neck and hadn’t let go until Beth told him how glad Mutt was going to be to see him.

All that went through Dylan’s mind now at fast-forward speed while El Paso had been saying, “I was ordered to kill you quick, and I’m not supposed to question orders. But since I don’t know that much about computers, I’m gonna hold off and let you do the computer work for me.”

Still holding her face-out against his chest, he swung her around and propelled her back into her inner office and over to the desk, where he pushed her into the chair he’d recently been lounging in. “Boot it up.”

Mitch walked back to the enclosed office but remained standing in the open doorway and addressed John directly.

“DEA just pulled off a whopper of a raid in New Orleans. Oz lost men, so did the Caballeros. Our agents came through unscathed, thank God, but El Paso wasn’t at the scene and is still at large. ”

John grimaced and said to Nix and Lear, “This is an all-points bulletin. To get back to his home turf, he has to go through Louisiana. Circulate this new info. Make sure everyone is up to speed.”

Before they could act on the directive, Mitch said, “Hold on a sec. This raid was no small potatoes. It’s gonna have impact. Oz was expecting a bonanza but got a bust. This, coming so fast on the heels of Malone’s murder, might send him running for cover.”

“What are you saying?” John asked.

“Don’t you think we need to be a bit more proactive? If we have any leads, however ‘unsupported,’ we ought to act on them before Oz has time to get out of Dodge.”

“I would agree with you if we knew who Oz was,” John said.

“We know who we suspect.”

“Who you suspect, Mitch.”

“I know I’m right.” He looked at Nix and Lear and John in turn, then stayed on John. “I lied about who I was talking to before I joined you. It wasn’t the courier lady. It was a US marshal who, for months, has had a guy in protective custody. He used to work for Malone.”

He recounted his conversation with Greer. “He’s laying it out to this guy as we speak. With a little persuasion, he may give us something confirming that my suspect is Oz.”

“He’s not a suspect,” John said with fading patience.

“Okay, let’s call him a person of interest. Who, by the way, owns a private jet. It’s gassed up and ready to take off later today.”

John asked, “How do you know that?”

“After I heard about Malone’s murder and the pending raid—”

Nix pounced on that. “Who told you about the raid?”

Mitch ignored her interruption and continued addressing John. “Knowing what was coming, I played a hunch, called the FBO where my suspect keeps his jet, pretended to be a caterer for his flight today.

“If he hadn’t scheduled one, I would’ve said, ‘Sorry to have bothered you, somebody must’ve got the date wrong.’ But guess what. He does have a flight scheduled. Wheels up at six o’clock this evening.” He let that settle, then said, “John, if we don’t make a move, he’ll fly the coop.”

“If we make a move without more than you’ve got to go on, this department could get sued for harassing a prominent citizen who could turn out to be law abiding and innocent of any crime.”

“You’re more worried about a lawsuit than catching Oz, who you know masterminded Angela’s murder?”

“I don’t know that, and neither do you. It’s pure speculation on your part, and this department—”

“Department,” Mitch sneered. “When did you start being a goddamn bureaucrat instead of a cop?”

“And when did you let your thirst for revenge over Angela override everything else in your life? Mitch, you’ve lost all reason and perspective. You’re on the brink of making a mistake that could cost you your career, cost you your son.”

“Don’t bring my family into this!”

“I didn’t. You did. You did when you made that vow of vengeance over Angela’s grave.”

John’s shout reverberated. He drew himself up, as though just now becoming aware that Nix and Lear and most everyone in the unit stood frozen in place and attentive. “Give us some privacy,” he grumbled to Nix and Lear. “Close the door as you leave.”

“Don’t bother,” Mitch said. “I’m outta here. I’ll do this by myself.”

“Mitch!” John shouted, “We’re not done. Come back in here.”

Mitch didn’t acknowledge John’s angry shout, or close the office door behind himself, or slow down as he headed for the exit.

And goddammit, there stood Clarence blocking his path again. “What, Clarence?”

“Are you mad at me for telling—”

“No, forget it.” Mitch tried to go around him, but he wouldn’t move. “Look, we’re cool, okay?”

“Okay,” Clarence said, “but, uh, I was having lunch at EATS?”

“Yeah. And?”

“Dodi says hi.”

“Thanks for telling me. Now, I’m in a hurry,” he said, finally getting around him.

“Are you on your way to check on Dr. Reede?”

Mitch stopped and turned halfway around. “Check on her? What are you talking about?”

“Well, she’s in there all alone and—”

“In where?”

“Her office.”

“No. She’s not there today. It’s Saturday. The building is closed.”

“Yeah, I know. She let herself in through the employee entrance in back.”

Mitch came fully around. “Clarence, whoever you saw, it wasn’t Dr. Reede.”

“I’m positive it was her. She’s hard to mistake.”

Mitch’s breath was beginning to hitch unevenly. His heart began to thud the ominous and dreadful way it had on the night he’d entered his house half an hour late, calling Angela’s name and being greeted only by the low hum of the car’s motor inside the garage.

He began walking backward toward the exit. “When was this?”

“As I left the diner,” Clarence said, coming toward him to maintain the short distance between them. “I drove around the corner and passed the parking lot. Caught her just as she went inside.”

“Was she by herself?”

“Except for the repairman. That’s what kinda bothered me. Her being—”

“What repairman?”

“I watched him from the booth at EATS. He was working on a window on the third floor.”

“On the fire escape?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

Because he’d broken that window last Monday night.

“He must’ve got it fixed. He managed to squeeze through.”

Mitch spun around and knocked aside chairs, trash cans, personnel, anything that got in his way as he bolted toward the exit. He lunged down the stairs, jumping over several at a time.

He couldn’t be late. He pled with the God he no longer believed in not to let him be too late. Not this time, not again.

Her hands were trembling, but she did as told. When it came to typing in her password, she hesitated. He poked the tip of the switchblade through her hair and up against her brain stem. “Do it.” She typed in her password, then he asked, “What do all those letters stand for?”

“What difference does it make?”

“Not a fuck. But it had better work.”

She hit enter, and Microsoft opened up.

“Good girl,” he said. “Go to the records you keep on patients.”

“Any patient in particular?”

He nudged the back of her chair with his knee and said playfully, “Guess.”

“Roland Malone.”

“Got it on the first try.”

“It wasn’t so hard. Oz must’ve told you.”

“Malone was stupid enough to think Oz didn’t know about him, and you, and your talks. When he came to see you, did he lie down on the sofa? That must’ve been a sight. He was an ox. How are you coming on those files?”

“I’ve got all these firewalls in place. Did you kill Roland, El Paso?”

“Oh, so you’ve heard of me,” he said, sounding pleased and proud. “I did some of my best work on him.”

“I don’t think that cutting off a pinkie finger requires that much talent.”

“It wouldn’t, except that he wanted to keep the ring.”

“‘He’? You mean Oz?”

“Yeah. The mystery man. Hides in the dark.”

“He won’t be able to hide for long. They’re looking for him.”

“Who?” he asked.

“Who isn’t?”

He chuckled. “Waaay ahead of you. The ex-narc, right? Haskell?”

Then from behind them, Mitch said, “Waaay ahead of you.”