Chapter 36 #3
Andrea’s hunch was, by all accounts, correct.
We spent a few days looking into Agent Lewis, the very woman who worked on the Nammota case while I was in jail, and she’s an exemplary agent.
Not a single stain on her twelve-year career with the FBI, and I’ll venture that the only reason she isn’t higher up is that she’s a woman of color.
Ever courageous and determined, Andrea rings the bell.
My grip on the thick file we came with tightens.
It contains an account of our findings. I’m not sharing the content of the hard drive with Special Agent Lewis yet, but if she’s on board with our demands, I will email her a link where she can download it all.
The broad door opens to a six or seven-year-old girl with light brown skin and a head full of curly hair. “Yes?” she asks, looking up at us with suspicion.
“Hi. We’re here to see Kalisa. She’s your mom, right?” Andrea answers.
“If you’re selling Bibles, we already have three.”
Andrea chuckles. “We’re not here for that. It’s a work thing.”
“You’re with the FBI, too?”
“We’re consultants.”
The little girl takes us in, twice, and nods. “I’ll go get her.” She spins around and disappears into the house, shouting to get her mother’s attention. Special Agent Lewis arrives in seconds. Her brows come together when she recognizes us.
“What are you two doing here?” she demands, stepping forward and partially closing the door.
“We’re here to talk,” Andrea says.
“Then call the bureau and schedule an appointment. This isn’t how we do things.”
“We can’t.”
“This is my home. I’m not doing whatever this is here.”
“You’ll want to hear what we have to say,” I intervene.
“Call the bureau,” she repeats, heading back inside, ready to close the door on us.
“Two hundred women, abused, beaten, and raped. Sixteen of them killed,” Andrea impulsively says.
Agent Lewis pauses, then turns around, unmoving in the entryway, her hand still on the door.
“We have so much evidence, it’ll be the easiest case you’ll ever have, and yet it’ll be the biggest one of your career.
It will get you promoted all the way to the top. ”
Seconds pass as she registers Andrea’s words. “What sort of evidence are we talking about?”
“Footage. Hundreds of hours of it. As well as an exhaustive list of names. Which is why we know it’s a very sensitive case, and it can’t be handed to just anyone. It involves billionaires, members of the Department of Justice, politicians, and a high-ranking member of the bureau.”
Lewis was intrigued before, but she’s now perplexed. “And how did you stumble upon all that evidence?”
Andrea and I exchange a look, already prepared for this question.
“We can’t disclose that,” I say firmly. “But we’ll give you everything you need to build a solid case and arrest those people.
You’ll have the file we have assembled, the footage, the pictures …
It will be the biggest case the bureau has seen in the past decade, if not more. ”
“And what do you want in exchange for all that?” she asks, sensing this part coming.
“For one, no one can know who brought you that information. It would put a target on our backs, and we’d rather stay away from that.”
“Okay, done. I’ll say someone dropped it all on my porch. What else?”
“The man at the center of all this is Norman Becker,” I say, bringing the folder up between us.
“The billionaire?”
“Yes, the StarCare CEO. You will make sure he gets arrested first and locked up for good.”
“It’ll all depend on the evidence you give m—”
“He killed three of the women we mentioned. And it’s all on tape.
From what we understand, he went too far twelve years ago and killed one of the girls.
Over the years, he then encouraged those who were in attendance that evening to also kill some victims. It was likely a way to make them commit equally incriminating crimes and protect himself. ”
Lewis’s eyebrow comes up. “That’ll do it. Anything else?”
“You’ll need to be among the team searching his office at his New York penthouse.
We’ll give you the code that opens his hidden safe, where you’ll legally seize all the evidence we’ll give you.
Be extremely careful with the laptop, or you’ll lose the data.
We’ll also supply you with the password for it.
And while you’re searching Becker’s home office, you’ll need to open a vent on the floor and take out a pair of rubber gloves that need to be destroyed. ”
She sighs. “Do I even want to ask?”
Andrea winces. “Probably not.”
“Anything else?” she asks, extending her hand to take the folder.
“Zane Horvat,” I continue, stating our last condition.
“He’s the man who placed the bounty on Nammota for Becker.
The one who shot Andrea. He has an extensive criminal record, and he currently supplies Becker with the women who are abused.
He’s actively wanted, but is good at evading the law.
I’ve supplied you with his address, as well as some of his associates.
You need to get them arrested as soon as you can, so the cycle stops until Becker can find new henchmen.
But don’t arrest them over those girls. Becker can’t know you’re coming after him. ”
“I know how to do my job, Mr. Coleman.” She says nothing for a moment, staring at us alternately. “You two have been busy, haven’t you?”
“Doing whatever we need to survive,” Andrea says.
“Aren’t we all?” When she extends her hand this time, I give her the file. “So, anonymity, destroy some rubber gloves, and make sure Becker and Horvat are arrested. Anything else?”
“We still have your card. We’ll let you know if anything more comes to mind,” I say.
Her clever, trained eyes scan us. “Will Nammota claim all that evidence as his own findings? So I know if I’ll pass for a fool when this all comes out.”
“Haven’t you heard? Nammota has officially retired,” I say. “You’ll never hear from him again.”
“After today, you mean.”
“Whatever you think, Special Agent Lewis.”
I take Andrea’s hand, and we turn around to the three steps down the porch. “Happy hunting,” Andrea chimes, twisting around one last time.
Lightness like I haven’t felt in a while envelops me as we walk to the car. I’m almost certain we made the right call, but if Lewis fails us, we’ll do it our own way. For now, though, our hopes rest on her.
“What now?” Andrea asks once we’re in the car.
“Well, we can hardly be in Portland and not pay a visit to my second-favorite Ibanez woman.”
Her face illuminates with excitement. “You mean my abuela?”
I nod with a grin. “Let’s go see for ourselves how well she’s recovering, shall we?”
Andrea dances in her seat, elated by the prospect. This whole mess kept her away from her loved ones for too long, but it’s almost over. We’ll soon return to Seattle and our lives. We’re almost there.
We just need to wait a little longer.