Chapter Ten
On Monday morning, Landon stood in the conference room before other members of the Art Crime Team, going over the latest news on their current investigation. That included Eddie’s still unknown status and the homicide near his apartment complex.
Landon created a split screen, keeping the macabre image of Ramírez on one side and putting a photograph of Eddie beside it.
“I have reason to believe that my CI, Eddie Jernigan, may have been the intended victim— corresponding with the IED used to blow up his boat and the proximity to Jernigan’s apartment. ”
He switched to a still shot of a tall, white male, wearing a hooded sweatshirt—the hood over his head—jeans and dark sneakers.
“This was taken from a surveillance camera in the vicinity of the wooded area where Ramírez’s body was discovered,” Landon said before putting up two other still shots side by side.
“The unsub resembles a suspect seen running from the marina just before Eddie’s boat exploded as well as a man who was captured on a campus security video lurking around a parking lot at Braedon College in Joyllis Hills.
He fit the description of an unsub seen checking out the vehicle of Eddie’s sister, Raquelle Jernigan, a theater professor—who happens to be my ex-wife.
” Waiting a beat as that settled in, Landon finished with, “So, to make a long story short, there’s a good chance that the bomber of Eddie’s pontoon also shot to death Lim Ramírez. ”
“And where does this leave Eddie?” Katie questioned, an edge to her voice, while standing. “I know he’s still missing—but is he even alive at this point? Maybe Ramírez’s killer got to your CI first…”
Landon regarded her and responded musingly, “That’s always a possibility.
Just as it is that Eddie was taken against his will and out of sight.
But the fact that Eddie apparently drove his own car away from the marina—and abandoned the vehicle soon after he’d borrowed money from a bartender at the Cridder Club on Gelinten Road in Gadwall Heights—suggests that he may still be alive and trying to stay that way.
Though there’s been no activity with his credit cards, which could be deliberate so as to avoid law enforcement as well right now, the fact that we have nothing to indicate an abduction or homicide where it concerns my CHS tells me that Eddie is more likely than not to be among the living than dead. ”
“Makes sense, all things considered,” Zach uttered from his chair. “Honestly, I hope your CI is still around to help us put the screws to Ivan Pimentel and his criminal operation.”
“You and me both,” Landon told him forthrightly. “Until such time, we’ll continue to piece together our Native American art-theft-and-forgery case against Pimentel and his cronies.”
* * *
THAT AFTERNOON, KATIE MET with her boyfriend, Tony Razo, the District of South Carolina’s US marshal, for lunch at Rundle’s Deli on Main Street in downtown Columbia.
Tony, thirty-five, was six feet tall—a few inches taller than her—well-built, and handsome with blue eyes, jet-black hair in a low fade undercut and short sideburns.
Like her, he’d never been married but wasn’t opposed to marrying, if it felt right.
She was of the same mind and more than willing to take it one day at a time—after dating for ten months now—and making a concerted effort to be together as much as possible, given their often-conflicting work schedules.
Katie listened with interest as Tony droned on about the latest assignments to fall into his jurisdiction while she nibbled on a veggie sub and he had a chicken-salad sub. They split a side dish of ranch fries.
After rattling off the first three names on the US Marshals Service’s Fifteen Most Wanted fugitives list, Tony practically bragged, “Last night, we tracked down in Charleston a man wanted on a number of federal child-sexual-exploitation charges. Getting him off the streets was a top priority to protect children.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Katie told him, hating the thought of any children being sexually exploited for the profits of child victimizers.
Tony grabbed a ranch fry and said equably, “It’s what we do.
” He smiled and said, “More good news… I heard that one of our tactical K-9s, Alfie, who was shot multiple times last week during a raid of a house in Florence, was released from the hospital this morning. He’s expected to make a complete recovery and get back to work for us. ”
“Amazing, and thank goodness for Alfie’s courage under fire,” she marveled.
“Yeah,” he concurred.
When the conversation switched to her latest cases, Katie mentioned several that she was juggling as part of the Bureau’s Art Crime Team—including the Native American art-theft-and-forgery investigation, and her impending testimony in court following the recent arrest of a couple for interstate transportation of stolen modern art prints.
Tony grinned. “Impressive.”
She raised a brow. “You think?”
“Of course—especially where it concerns you.” He tilted his face and planted a kiss on her mouth.
“Good answer.” Katie showed her teeth and dug into the veggie sub. She had just begun to elaborate on the Native American art-crimes case and the disappearance of Eddie Jernigan when she spotted Landon and Zach entering the deli.
Tony invited them over to the table, having gotten to know the special agents in the course of their professional intersection on investigations.
Katie had no problem with the company of her colleagues, whom she considered like family.
Or at least was comfortable with them in pretty much any setting—including a restaurant.
Landon and Zach sat around the table as Tony joked, “Don’t you FBI agents have anything better to do than stalk my girlfriend?”
Landon, whose tray had a ham-and-cheese sandwich and coffee on it, chuckled and said, “Katie would never let us get away with it, even if we had no better way to spend our time.”
Zach, a club sandwich and glass of lemonade on his tray, quipped, “Well, we did pose as a couple recently—but don’t tell my wife, Celeste—so you’ll have to forgive me if I find myself wanting to stay close to Katie.”
“Enough already, you guys.” She laughed, embarrassed with the attention. “Keep me out of this, please!”
“Done!” Landon said. “You’ve been removed from the stalking files.”
She blushed. “Thanks.”
Tony kissed her cheek. “Now that that’s over and done with, let’s talk about your latest case and where things stand with the missing CHS…”
Landon bit into his sandwich and said thoughtfully, “He’s out there somewhere. Not sure if Eddie’s dead or alive—but my money’s on the latter at this point. Just a gut feeling. The key is to track him down before reputed art-crime boss Ivan Pimentel can take him out.”
Zach sipped lemonade and said frankly, “We’re definitely up against the clock here in both locating Jernigan to bolster our case against Pimentel and holding the art dealer accountable for a growing list of crimes.
The two aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive, but obviously the CI’s testimony—and any evidence he may still have collected—would go a long way toward sealing the deal in a Pimentel conviction. ”
Katie sipped tea and argued, “The case can be made with or without Eddie Jernigan’s input. Obviously, though, whoever blew up his boat believed that silencing him—through kidnapping or killing—could only help matters when it came to preventing Eddie from telling what he knew as a CI.”
“If and when you find him,” Tony said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “you can always put Jernigan in the Witness Security Program to keep him out of harm’s way till he can deliver on his intel.”
“Yeah, that is an option.” Landon nodded. “We’ll see how it goes.”
Katie gazed at him. She also saw WITSEC as a possibility, should Eddie manage to have survived his ordeal. But how would Landon’s ex-wife feel about being out of touch with her brother—perhaps for a while?
“Eddie’s disappearance and the not knowing has to be hard on your ex.” Katie peered at Landon. She’d never met Raquelle Jernigan but had picked up through conversation how much he still cared for her.
“It has been,” Landon acknowledged, leaning back in his chair, brooding. “Raquelle’s strong, though. Whatever happens, she’ll get through it.”
“Maybe with your help,” Katie said, “based on my women’s intuition.”
He grinned. “Maybe.”
“Something going on between you and your ex that we should know about, Briscoe?” Zach asked teasingly as he grabbed one of their ranch fries off the plate.
Landon squared his chin. “Yeah, something,” he confessed. “Just not quite sure what it is at this stage.”
“Well, when you find out, be sure to let us know.”
“I will,” he said thoughtfully.
Katie smiled at him, imagining what it would be like to marry for the first time as she eyed Tony. Much less go for a repeat—unlike with Zach, who preferred to try again with someone else. In Landon’s case, perhaps the one who got away was the woman he was truly meant to be with.
* * *
RAQUELLE SAT ON an ergonomic desk chair in her small but neatly organized office in Blakemoor Hall on Pattery Lane.
Seated on the other side of the electric adjustable desk was Vera Mahaffey, her GTA, who was grading papers, while Raquelle was busy preparing an assignment for her class.
As she did so, her thoughts slipped back to Saturday when she’d kissed Landon.
It was hardly a planned action on her part, but it was one that Raquelle relished.
Kissing her ex-husband somehow felt right.
He seemed to be of the same mind. And body, given both their bodies seemed to tense up while reacquainting themselves with this rather intimate act.
“So, how was your weekend?” Vera asked, as if only to start a conversation.
“Good.” Once again, that sweet kiss entered Raquelle’s head. “How about yours?”
“Same.” Vera then spoke glowingly about her new girlfriend.
“Nice.” Raquelle smiled and looked at her laptop.
Her mind went to Eddie. She wondered if he would ever reach out to her—if he was able to.
Or if there was any way to communicate with him without compromising his safety.
Or hers. “Have you seen anyone else—or the same person—hanging around my car?” she asked Vera.
The GTA shook her head. “Not that I can recall.”
“Good.” At least where it concerns me being a possible target of the man who may have blown up Eddie’s boat, Raquelle told herself.
Or some stalker, knowing that there had been several reports of stalking on campus recently.
But if Eddie chose to show up at the college for help, she would welcome this.
“Maybe it was nothing,” Vera said, running fingers through her hair.
“Maybe.” Raquelle wasn’t sure she believed that. Nor did Landon seem to think that it was necessarily unrelated to his investigation. Or Eddie’s disappearance.
After she left the office, Raquelle got a call from Landon as she stepped outside for some fresh air.
“Hey,” he said in a spirited tone of voice.
“Hey.” She put the phone closer to her ear.
“I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me tonight—if you didn’t have any other plans.”
“No other plans,” Raquelle freely admitted. “What restaurant?”
“Actually, I’ll be making the meal,” Landon told her. “It will give you a chance to check out my place, assuming that’s okay with you?”
“Yes, I’d like that.” She had been curious about his condominium since he moved to Columbia. “What time?”
“How does six thirty sound?”
“Perfect.”
“Good,” he said. “I’ll text you the address.”
Raquelle smiled. “All right.”
After disconnecting, she headed back to her office before an afternoon class, looking forward to spending more time with her ex.
* * *
HE FOLLOWED RAQUELLE JERNIGAN as she left the college in her Infiniti Q50. Keeping a safe distance, he wondered what she knew about her brother’s activities. Not to mention his whereabouts.
It irked him to think that he’d shot and killed the wrong man instead of his intended target, Eddie Jernigan. The fact that Jernigan had somehow managed to escape death more than once led him to believe that the art dealer’s luck would run out shortly.
And not a moment too soon.
His employer, Ivan Pimentel—and sidekick, Yusef Abercrombie—were none too happy that he hadn’t held up his end of the bargain in ridding Pimentel of a big problem. He’d made it perfectly clear that Jernigan being alive was not an option.
Meaning his own life was on the line as long as Eddie continued to breathe.
But was the snitch actually breathing these days? Had Eddie been blown up in the boat, only to be buried in the lake? It made sense, as this had been the plan all along and should’ve gone without a hitch.
The fact that Eddie had apparently not been seen since was a good sign. But still not the concrete proof he needed that the man was dead.
He had trailed Eddie’s sister to the Catawba Nation reservation, where she undoubtedly went looking for Jernigan—alongside the FBI special agent, Landon Briscoe, her ex-husband, whom Eddie was feeding information.
The two had come away empty-handed. Which told him that Jernigan was nowhere to be found. Maybe that was a good thing. Being unreachable meant that he was keeping his big mouth shut, one way or the other. Assuming he was still around to cause trouble.
He watched as Raquelle Jernigan turned onto Velick Road toward her house. Keeping his distance, he saw her pull into her driveway.
Could she be hiding her brother at the house, in spite of the visit to the reservation?
There was no clear indication of this when he’d surveilled the residence earlier. But what if this were the case?
Then he would need to do what he had to do in his own best interests.
If push came to shove, he might have to take the next big step of planting a bomb inside the house to blow it to bits.
Even if that meant Raquelle blew up with it. And Eddie, if he was holed up there.
He drove past the house nonchalantly, already making contingency plans to take things to the next level—while keeping Ivan Pimentel and Yusef Abercrombie at bay.