Chapter One
Federal Bureau of Investigation Special Agent Cooper Reid sat in a well-worn ergonomic leather chair at his L-shaped walnut desk in the Bureau’s Phoenix, Arizona, field office on North Seventh Street.
He sighed while his deep gray-blue eyes reviewed information on his laptop pertaining to a public corruption investigation in the city.
Specifically, he was targeting a forty-seven-year-old senior building inspector named Horace Eckhart for suspected bribery.
This followed a tip on the FBI tip line to that effect in seeking the public’s help in the Bureau’s crackdown of public corruption and those who crossed the line.
Eckhart appeared to be the linchpin in a classic pay-for-play scheme.
As an employee of the Phoenix Planning and Development Department, the building inspector was being investigated for allegedly taking substantial bribes from developers, architects and contractors in Phoenix over a period of time, in exchange for everything from fast-tracking permits to prioritizing the issuance of temporary certificates of occupancy to tax credits to overlooking safety violations, and other preferential treatment to those involved in self-serving pursuits.
With the cooperation of a confidential informant, Cooper had reason to believe that Eckhart’s pattern of corruption on development projects throughout the city made him a likely target for architects, developers, engineers and related individuals in property development who were looking to cut corners or otherwise receive special or profitable benefits in furthering their objectives.
Well, he would soon need to answer for these alleged criminal offenses, as an arrest of the divorced building inspector, whom Cooper learned was up to his ears in financial straits and growing increasingly desperate, was all but imminent.
The same sentiments were true for anyone else who was complicit, and a strong case could be made against for public corruption in betraying the public trust. Or similarly, putting their own interests before those who put faith in them to do the right thing, occupationally speaking—only to be left disappointed, deceived or victimized.
Running a hand across his jet-black hair styled in a brush cut, Cooper sat back, mentally retracing the steps that had made him a dogged twelve-year FBI veteran at the age of thirty-five.
On some level, it was probably the aunt who raised him by and large, Katherine Reid—who was at one time chief counsel of the Oregon Department of Justice’s Criminal Justice Division—that left an impression on him when it came to law enforcement and the wheels of justice.
He’d attended Portland State University in Oregon, where he had gotten his Bachelor of Arts and Master of Science degrees in criminology and criminal justice.
It was also where he met his beautiful late wife, Melanie, who was working on her doctorate degree in mechanical engineering.
Both single at the time, she had encouraged him after graduating to go work for the Bureau, which began with going through the paces at FBI Quantico.
Afterward, he moved around to different field offices and divisions before settling into the field office in Phoenix five years ago.
There, he worked for two years in the civil rights and white-collar crime divisions, with the last three years concentrating on public corruption in the city as well as the state of Arizona.
They had been in Phoenix for less than two years when Melanie died suddenly from a brain aneurysm, leaving him to go it alone with difficulty.
Staying active and work demands had given him a reason to carry on, but he still longed for companionship again someday, knowing that would be the right ingredient to make him whole.
Cooper blinked back the heartfelt thoughts as he refocused on the laptop and the case that had been built against Horace Eckhart.
Enough evidence existed to consider him at the very least as a person of interest, and then some, in the investigation.
Putting the squeeze on the bribery suspect could result in more people being put under the microscope for public corruption locally.
Cooper took what he had to the special agent in charge, Amelia Touray. She was sitting in a faux leather chair in her office at a white wall-mounted floating desk with built-in storage that was filled.
In her midforties, Amelia was slender and had crimson hair in a pixie bob and blue eyes behind square glasses.
Having recently been named to her position by the FBI director after a previous role for the Bureau as a supervisory special agent, Amelia was a no-nonsense type of person whom Cooper respected, being of a similar mindset on the professional level.
Jutting her chin after listening, she said, “There’s nothing worse, insofar as criminal wrongdoing, than those who violate their roles as government employees—at federal, state or local levels—whether they’re elected officials or not!”
Cooper nodded. “I couldn’t agree more. It seems as though Horace Eckhart falls into that category. My CI, who works as a contractor, has supplied just enough intel to open the door to gathering solid evidence of Eckhart falling prey to bribery as an answer to his mounting debts and greed.”
“Then by all means, let’s get Mr. Eckhart in here—out of his comfort zone—and see what he has to say for himself,” Amelia stated firmly, pushing her glasses up, “before moving forward with an arrest warrant and any applicable charges.”
“You’ve got it.” Cooper thought about discussing other current and potential targets in the investigation, but refrained from doing so. He was content for the moment to bring in Eckhart for interrogation and see how the dominoes fell and onto whom as it related to public corruption.
After leaving the office and conferring briefly with other special agents working their assignments, Cooper headed from the building and into the parking lot.
At six three and in great shape, he climbed into his black Dodge Durango SUV and was quickly en route to the City of Phoenix Planning and Development Department’s Inspections Division on West Washington Street.
He found his mind wandering to what he might do for dinner.
There was leftover pizza in the fridge and some frozen foods in the freezer, but he wasn’t in much of a mood for either.
Maybe I’ll just go out for a meal, he told himself, deciding to splurge a little.
He would love to meet someone who, apart from chemistry and connecting on a deeper level, could cook some meals with him as they made their way around the kitchen, given that his own culinary skills were pretty limited at best to the basics.
After arriving at Eckhart’s place of employment as the first stop in tracking the man down this morning, Cooper headed for the building.
He was armed with a Sig Sauer P239 Nitron Compact 9-mm pistol, tucked inside a tactical shoulder holster, but hoped there would be no need to use it for a nonviolent offender as Eckhart was suspected of being.
Cooper stepped inside the lobby and went up to the second floor, where a young female Asian receptionist, with black hair in a nape undercut and round glasses over brown eyes, stood behind a counter chatting despondently on her cell phone.
She got off in a hurry, peered at him and asked distractedly, “How can I help you?”
Flashing his ID, Cooper responded tersely, “FBI. I’m here to speak with Horace Eckhart.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Just a moment…”
He watched as she got on the phone again and requested assistance. In a few moments, an attractive tall and slender woman in her early forties with brown hair with blonde highlights in a medium-length cut stepped out of an office. She moved toward him.
“I’m Gretchen Blanchett,” she said evenly, “the assistant director of inspections.”
“FBI Special Agent Reid,” Cooper said, meeting her gaze.
Gretchen narrowed blue eyes. “You’re here to see Horace Eckhart…?”
“Yes.” Cooper glanced at the receptionist and back, sensing that something was up. “Where can I find him?” he asked.
Gretchen’s brow creased. “At the morgue, I’m afraid.”
Cooper reacted to this unexpected news with a cocked brow. “Excuse me?”
The assistant director sighed deeply. “Horace was killed last night.”
Once he recovered from the shock, never mind the strange untimeliness of this revelation, Cooper gazed at her. “How…?”
“From what I understand, they think it may have been a carjacking,” Gretchen responded.
Carjacking, Cooper thought. What were the odds? He had to admit that they were at least even, knowing that this was a real concern in the Phoenix metropolitan area and, indeed, Maricopa County itself.
Still… The timing…
He wondered if this could have anything to do with the public corruption investigation in which the building inspector was the main focus—but by no means the only player in the game. Or, for that matter, if someone whom Eckhart owed money had come after him for payment with his life.
Cooper regarded Gretchen and said with real regret, “Sorry to hear about that.” Why hadn’t he heard before now?
The Bureau had a pretty good working relationship with the local police—in spite of a major scandal that had forced the resignation of several officers after a federal probe into public corruption last year as part of an East Valley Task Force that included the Metro Phoenix Highway Patrol Bureau’s DUI Enforcement Unit—who had been informed about the current public corruption investigation, even offering assistance. Had they dropped the ball here?
“We all are,” Gretchen expressed sincerely. “Horace was an important part of our team at the PDD.” She paused, eyeing Cooper. “What did your visit to see Horace pertain to, if I may ask?”