Chapter 14 #2
“Maybe it’s indigestion,” he returned with a low laugh.
A few seconds later, Adriana turned toward them and motioned for their approach.
“For the record, I don’t agree with you all being here,” Quinn began, “but since we seem to be on the same page about the girlfriend, I’ll—”
“Wait, what?” Knox looked back and forth between Adriana and the Fed.
“Something has been bothering me about Chelsea,” Quinn explained, “so, my team looked into her last night, and we drew the same conclusion as you guys did. I don’t know her angle, but she’s got to be involved somehow.”
“What’d Mendez say?” Relief hit Knox knowing they had at least one FBI agent on their side.
“He didn’t want to hear it. Mendez is a good guy, but he’s been in D.C. too long. He wants this wrapped up and quick,” Quinn said.
“I like this one.” A.J. jerked a thumb toward her.
“You happen to check her phone records or bank statements?” Knox asked.
“There are rules to follow. I need more evidence before I can subpoena her records,” Quinn said.
And shit, he’d forgotten about the red tape.
Plus, they were operating on American soil, which meant not even his team could violate certain civil liberties for the sake of a mission.
They’d have to go old school and find information out the hard way until they had enough evidence to prove Chelsea’s involvement.
“We’ll see what she says and go from there,” Quinn said.
“Let’s roll then.” Knox followed Adriana and Quinn toward the two-story brick apartment building. There were a hell of a lot of trees in the area, which made him uneasy.
“The unit posted out front said Chelsea hasn’t left her apartment since they escorted her home last night.” Quinn pressed the buzzer outside the main door of Chelsea’s apartment building. And then three more times when there was no answer.
“Deep sleeper?” A.J. joked.
“Something isn’t right,” Adriana said while looking at Quinn. “We need to get—”
“Someone’s leaving.” Quinn grabbed hold of the door after a teenager left the building, and they followed her lead inside.
“You think she took off?” Adriana asked as they moved down the hall to Chelsea’s apartment.
“That’d be the best-case scenario.” Knox retrieved his 45 and kept it low as Quinn pounded on Chelsea’s door.
“Ms. Baker. FBI! Open up!” Quinn withdrew her 9mm, and now, all four of them were standing armed outside the door.
If Chelsea was inside with a weapon, the idea of Adriana anywhere near a gun had his pulse racing like a jockey on speed.
She’s trained, he tried to remind himself, but hell, it wasn’t calming his concerns.
“What’s protocol here? Can we bust this door down or what?” Knox asked, because hell, he honestly had no clue about standard procedure since he didn’t operate within the realm of typical laws.
Quinn shook the door handle once more, nodded, then stepped back. “Now,” Quinn ordered, and he used the weight of his body to kick down the door.
It only took two tries before he breached the place. Thankfully the building was old, and the hinges were shit.
“Let us go in first.” He motioned for A.J. to enter, not giving a damn whether Quinn would be okay with his decision. He wouldn’t risk Adriana or the Fed’s safety.
Knox rounded the first corner, and A.J. came up behind him.
The living room and kitchen appeared normal.
But the place was also dead silent.
With two fingers, Knox pointed toward the closed door off to their right, and A.J. nodded.
Knox shifted to the side of the bedroom door and placed his back to the hall wall. He waited for A.J. to get into position on the opposite wall then gave a nod.
Knox slowly pushed open the door with one hand, holding his 45 with the other.
The bedroom was a mess, and when he rounded the bed, he found Chelsea facedown in a pool of blood.
“We’ve got a runner!” A.J. pointed toward the open sliding door and carefully sidestepped Chelsea’s body. “I’m gonna pursue.” He took off as Knox crouched over the body.
Chelsea’s shirt was covered in blood and the carpet beneath her soaked in it. He checked for a pulse but got nothing. A lamp beside the body had blood on it, but he doubted it was the murder weapon. She appeared to have been stabbed, not that there was a knife in view.
“Adriana! Quinn!”
“Oh, shit,” Quinn said from behind.
“Call it in.” He stood. “Someone just left, and A.J.’s chasing him down.” He moved out to the small patio area, trying to get a glimpse of A.J. through a bank of trees obstructing his line of sight.
He shielded his eyes from the sun, spotting a flash of movement.
It was a Thursday morning. Schools had gone back into session this week. And a school was up the block.
“Inform the area we have a situation. Get the local schools locked down!” he yelled before taking off in the direction A.J. had run.
Once he’d cut through the wooded area, he had a better view of A.J. and the guy he was chasing.
A.J. was one of their fastest runners, but Knox was faster. He shouldn’t have stopped to check the body.
Knox hid his gun at the back of his pants beneath his shirt as he tore through the freshly cut grass.
No comms. No time to pull out his phone and contact A.J. or Adriana.
The bastard had taken a right, and he was heading for a busy street, but at least he was going away from the school.
Knox’s lungs were burning by the time he halted at Tryon Street, anxiously waiting for a chance to dodge the heavy flow of traffic without causing an accident. But a patrol car with the lights and siren going swerved in front of him.
It was Adriana. “Get in!”
He quickly climbed into the passenger seat and pointed in the direction A.J. had gone.
He took a few quick breaths and swiped at the sweat on his brow as she jerked the car to the other lane and made a sharp turn to cross the road.
“How’d you—”
“Borrowed it from the detail parked out front.”
“I’ve lost sight of them,” Knox said. “If he shoots someone else . . .”
“There!” She shifted the car to the other lane and made a left.
They were closing in on A.J., who had gained some ground on the killer. Thank God. But seconds later the patrol car was sideswiped by a pickup truck. Adriana kept going, but when the truck came back for more, they knew it hadn’t been an accident. Someone was gunning for them.
“What the hell!” Adriana floored the gas, then yanked the wheel to the right, and their car veered away from the Ford F-150.
He looked back. The truck was still following them. “The killer must not have acted alone.”
The truck spun to the side in the middle of the road. “Gun!” Knox yelled at the sight of a muzzle peeking out of the driver side window.
Bullets punched the frame of their car as Knox retrieved his 45. “We gotta draw him away from here. Too many people.”
More bullets popped, tapping the sides of the squad car.
The back window caught two slugs. The first punched through the glass creating a wicked hole, the bullet hitting the floorboard of the vehicle.
The second ripped clean and more precise, but the glass surrounding the entry point, while remaining in place, shattered.
Neither shot hit them, though, but they needed to get the hell out of there in case their luck ran out.
“I don’t have a clear shot,” Knox yelled. “Step on the gas.” There were too many civilians who might get caught in the crossfire. “Take a right!” he said when spotting a side street without houses.
She grabbed the cruiser radio and rattled off the license plate and called for backup without ever losing control of the vehicle.
And if they weren’t in the middle of a high-speed chase, he’d take a moment to be proud.
“He’s gaining on us again,” Knox warned, wondering what the hell happened to A.J. and the runner. “Dead end ahead.” Shit. They’d be trapped.
“Hang on.” Adriana threw the car into reverse without turning her head, clutched the wheel, and watched her mirrors as they flew backward, then slid into the other lane within inches of hitting the truck, but . . . she did it.
She let up on the gas, cranked the wheel, and the weight of the vehicle shifted to the rear tires. She was breaking traction and inducing a controlled spin.
After pulling a complete 180, they were now in forward motion without losing speed.
The truck slammed on its brakes, and the guy jumped out in a hurry.
“He’s running! Let me out.” Knox grabbed the handle as the man ran toward a park on their left. “Stay in the car and wait for backup,” he ordered.
“The driver’s on foot. Armed and dangerous,” Adriana said into the radio as he took off.
Clutching his 45, Knox sprinted toward the entrance of the park but came to an abrupt stop when he got a view of what awaited him a hundred yards away.
The shooter was facing him with two guns drawn—but the weapons weren’t aimed at Knox.
Knox’s stomach dropped at the sight of one gun pointed at two kids playing about fifty feet off to his right with their mom. The other gun pointed at an elderly couple slowly walking a hundred paces on his left.
The bastard began walking backward, his firearms still positioned on his targets as a threat to Knox not to follow.
Knox could attempt a head shot and end this, but not without guaranteeing the gunman didn’t have time to get a shot off, too.
“He’s getting away,” Adriana cried from behind. She was supposed to stay in the car, damn it. He couldn’t protect her and everyone else out there.
A shriek hit his ears. The mother had spotted the weapons, and she forced her kids to the ground and threw herself on top of them.
More screams pierced the air, and Adriana shouted for everyone to get down.
“He’s almost to the tree line. He’ll turn and run once he hits the woods, and I can follow then.” He blocked Adriana with his body and kept his arm locked straight in front of him, his gun on the man in case he changed his plans. “Now,” he announced when the gunman turned for the trees.
“No.” Adriana clutched his bicep. “He has the advantage. Wait for backup.”
“I can’t let him get away.” As soon as the man ducked behind a thick oak, Knox took off.
The shooter had two football fields on him. And now he was deep in a wooded area, and Adriana was right. If the man decided to wait for Knox, he’d have the element of surprise. But what choice did he have? He couldn’t let him get away.
Knox neared the trees and slowed his approach, then used the first oak for cover.
A twig on the ground snapped, maybe thirty paces out. He slowly stepped from behind the tree and moved ten feet before relocating behind another oak.
His heartbeat kicked up at the sound of a sob from somewhere in the woods.
A young girl, maybe.
He ditched his protection of the trees without thinking and followed the sounds. If the son of a bitch had a kid as a hostage . . .
A girl, maybe twelve, hugged her knees at the base of a tree, rocking herself as tears tore lines down her face. She didn’t appear hurt, thank God.
“Are you okay?” He checked left and right for the shooter then crouched in front of her. “You see someone?”
“I-I skipped school. I was cutting through the woods.” He helped the girl stand. “A man ran past me with a gun. He-he put a finger over his lips and told me to be quiet. I was so scared.”
“You’re okay now.” He pulled her to his side. “Which direction did he go?”
“I don’t know,” she cried. “I fell to the ground and couldn’t move.”
“It’s okay.” He kept her close and reached for his phone. “Gunman is still on the run. He got away,” he told Adriana. “I have a kid with me. I’m coming back to you.”
“Police are here,” Adriana replied. “They’ll find him.”
“Any word from A.J.?” he asked as another call came over the line. “That’s A.J. calling me now. Hang on.” He switched lines. “You okay?” he asked him.
“I lost him. I’m sorry.”
Damn it.
“I had the shot, but I couldn’t take it.” A.J.’s breathing was labored. “I’m so sorry.”
“We’ll find him. Where are you?”
The line was quiet for a moment. “I was wrong,” A.J. said in a low voice, guilt cutting through his tone with heavy strokes.
“What are you talking about?” Knox stopped walking when they neared the open area of the park.
“It was Aaron, man. The guy I was chasing . . . it was him.”