Chapter Sixteen
On Saturday morning, the FBI Art Crime Team’s dedicated special agents were on the verge of raiding a storage facility rented by Ivan Pimentel on Atlas Road in Columbia while executing a search warrant for stolen and counterfeit Native American art.
They were backed by detectives from the Columbia Police Department’s Investigations Division.
Landon suspected that Pimentel had emptied out his warehouse downtown on Baldwin Road and hidden whatever he could that was illegal in the storage unit—while waiting for the heat to die down.
Dream on, Landon thought with sarcasm, knowing that the heat was about to get much hotter for the crooked art dealer as the investigation moved toward its conclusion.
He recalled the day before when Raquelle shared the news that Eddie had been holed up at the Catawba Nation reservation.
Eddie had apparently been spooked enough after his pontoon was blown up to feel that his safest bet was to duck out of sight somewhere Ivan Pimentel and associates would be least likely to be welcomed in trying to locate him.
While Landon was certainly glad to know that Eddie had survived more than one attempt on his life and was apparently still standing, he wasn’t as thrilled at the notion that Raquelle’s brother had vacated the shelter of the tribal lands for places unknown.
Had he thrown caution to the wind and returned to Falona County?
Would Pimentel get word that Eddie was still alive—assuming it had ever been believed to be otherwise when no proof of death was presented by Pimentel’s hired bomber—and seek to finish the job with a new assassin?
Where are you, Eddie? Landon asked himself. Would his CI reach out to him for help before the clock stopped ticking?
Raquelle was asking herself the same question.
While Landon had deployed all available resources to try and locate Eddie, his former brother-in-law had proven to be quite adept at doing a disappearing act.
But how much longer could his luck hold out—when someone with financial muscle and self-interests wanted him dead?
Landon gave the go-ahead to break the lock on the storage unit door.
They went inside and, as expected, saw that the large space was filled with artwork and artifacts.
Wearing nitrile gloves, Landon began to sift through the items. He asked, “See anything that catches your eye as recognizable or suspicious?”
Katie responded, “Yeah, here’s something—”
With her own gloved hands, she held up a Native American work of art that Landon recognized from the National Stolen Art File as having been swiped from an art museum in Kentucky. “Looks like the real deal,” he remarked.
“If not, it’s a great counterfeit painting,” she said. “Either way, it will still work against Pimentel.”
“I agree,” Landon said.
Zach told them, “We’ve got more art theft to work with…”
They looked as, wearing gloves, he lifted up two more paintings that were on their radar from intel provided by Eddie.
Landon flashed a half grin with approval as he discovered another hidden gem that fell within their purview and said, “Looks like we’ve hit the proverbial jackpot here—adding to the strong evidence we already have—in our bid to outmaneuver Pimentel and put his racket out of commission for good.”
* * *
LATE THAT AFTERNOON, Raquelle went for a run on the trail through her property.
She felt a mixture of emotions. There was the fact that Eddie was still breathing, answering one prayer.
But keeping him alive would likely take more than prayers alone.
Landon and his Art Crime Team would need to find and protect her brother—something that had already proven to be easier said than done.
I have to believe that having survived this long, Eddie can come out of his ordeal stronger than ever, Raquelle told herself, feeling the tension in her quads and calves as she pushed herself.
Then there was the situation with Landon.
Apart from the totally in sync lovemaking that left her continually wanting more, Raquelle knew she loved him.
And sensed that he loved her again. But he hadn’t expressed as much.
And neither had she. Was that some sort of omen that it might not be in the cards after all for them to give it another try?
Or am I totally misreading the signs that should be telling me we really are onto something in this resurrection of our romance, she mused as she headed back to the house.
After getting a bottle of water from the fridge and downing one-third of it, Raquelle was ready to hop into the shower when her cell phone rang. She removed it from the pocket of her shorts and saw that the call was coming from someone with no caller ID.
Instinctively, as she remembered Penelope receiving such a call with no response, Raquelle answered it and asked guardedly, “Eddie…?”
It took a moment or two before the caller responded, “Yeah, it’s me.”
“Where are you?” she asked, heart pounding.
“Meet me on the pier at the Knotter Marina,” Eddie said tersely. “Come alone…”
“Okay,” she replied without hesitation.
Before Raquelle could pepper him with more questions and get some needed answers, the phone went dead.
* * *
A WARRANT FOR Ivan Pimentel’s arrest was issued—along with his crony, Yusef Abercrombie.
Both were facing a slew of art-crime-related charges, supported by the evidence.
That included a direct link to Fred Davenport and the bombing of Eddie’s Crest Savannah 250 SLSC vessel after intel obtained from Davenport’s laptop indicated that he was indeed working on behalf of Pimentel— having been hired by Abercrombie—to blow up the pontoon with Eddie aboard.
Landon was also prepared to charge both men under federal law with murder and conspiracy to commit murder in the deaths of Lim Ramírez and Fred Davenport.
Abercrombie’s alibi and attempt to throw others under the bus fell flat once DNA evidence proved that he had been inside Davenport’s apartment—the bathroom where his body was found, in particular—while doing Pimentel’s bidding to eliminate a person who could tie them to the two attempts on the life of Landon’s CI.
A BOLO alert was sent out for the crooked art dealer’s white Mercedes-Benz GLE 350 4MATIC SUV. Simultaneously, FBI agents were raiding Pimentel’s local art galleries and his gated luxury estate on Cedarwood Lane in Columbia.
As Landon drove down the street in his Chevy Tahoe, he thought about Raquelle and wanting to put it all out there about how much he still loved her and wanted them to make this work—the second time around.
Did she feel the same way? Would she be just as committed to meeting him midway, while doing whatever they needed to mitigate—if not get past altogether—the issues that worked against them previously?
I’ll just have to go for it, Landon told himself, feeling reasonably confident that they were meant to be.
Even if Eddie’s circumstances continued to be in flux, Landon believed that he and Raquelle were on solid enough ground to be able to withstand anything that might present itself as they navigated the road ahead.
When a call came in from Katie, Landon put his cell phone on speaker and set it in the dashboard phone holder. “Yeah,” he said.
“Abercrombie was somehow able to give the agent tailing him the slip,” Katie said sorrowfully, “before he could be taken into custody. We put out a BOLO alert for his BMW X5 M SUV that appeared, at last sighting, to be headed toward Knotter Marina Drive.”
Landon sighed, wishing he’d gone with the strong circumstantial evidence they had to keep Abercrombie off the streets as a serious person of interest. “I’m not far from there,” he told her. “We’ll get him—and Pimentel—before they can do more damage.”
“We’d better,” she cautioned. “As if there’s any other choice…”
“There are no other choices,” he concurred, eager to see this investigation come to a head one way or the other.
After Landon disconnected, he opened the voicemail Raquelle had left him while he was talking to Katie. He listened with interest as Raquelle spoke tensely:
“Landon, I got a call from Eddie. He wants to meet me at Knotter Marina and asked me to come alone. I agreed out of fear that he might bolt again if he saw you—other FBI agents or law enforcement… I’m on my way there right now.
I’ll do my best to keep him there—till you arrive…
to help Eddie and hopefully he’ll be able to help you in return—to make all this worthwhile for both of you—”
Landon muttered under his breath, rattled by this turn of events.
He would have preferred that Raquelle had given him a heads-up before she went to meet her brother rather than on her way.
But knowing how much Eddie’s predicament and absence had unnerved her, could he really blame Raquelle for jumping at the opportunity to do what she felt was right in helping her brother?
At least she let me know what’s happening, Landon told himself, and is counting on me getting there to save the day for her and Eddie.
Problem was Raquelle might have placed Eddie—and herself—in more danger.
Landon considered that Yusef Abercrombie also seemed to be headed on a beeline toward the marina. Had he been following Raquelle? Or perhaps put a GPS tracker on her car in hopes of being led right to Eddie—so he could finish him off once and for all?
Landon called Raquelle to warn her about the impending threat posed by Abercrombie, but it went straight to voicemail, where he left a message.
This did little to ease his own discomfort that she was about to be put in harm’s way.
The thought that he might never get the chance to convey his true feelings about her and them shook Landon to the core.
He passed the information to Katie and Zach, directing them to get a SWAT team and other law enforcement to the marina ASAP.
In the meantime, Landon pressed down on the accelerator as he sped toward Knotter Marina, knowing full well that every second counted with two lives very much hanging in the balance.
* * *
EDDIE STOOD ON the dock walkway, tilting his cap lower to cover his face more, while wondering if Raquelle would show up.
Admittedly, he had a lot of explaining to do and probably not much time to do so.
But what could he say, really? And how? That he’d gotten in over his head in selling counterfeit art to make ends meet?
Or had tried to turn the page by being Landon’s CI?
Everything he had tried had ended in disaster. Or close to it. Including being targeted by the crooked art dealer and galleries owner Ivan Pimentel as a snitch, in paying a ruthless hit man to blow up him and his boat.
This brush with death freaked Eddie out like no one would believe.
Seeing his life flash before him as though it were someone else’s had forced him to go into hiding, knowing his future was very much in jeopardy—were it up to Pimentel and his lap dog, Yusef Abercrombie, to decide whether or not he lived or died.
If given another opportunity, Eddie hoped he could somehow make amends for his missteps. Pay his debt to society without spending time behind bars. Or was it too late for that, now that he had violated the conditions Landon had set in being his confidential human source?
Eddie fidgeted as he waited for Raquelle, his gaze through sunglasses searching the area for any sign of her.
He hoped she did as he asked and came alone.
Now was not the time to have to deal with Landon, whom Eddie was certain had reentered his sister’s life during his disappearance.
This was probably a good thing. Raquelle hadn’t really been herself since their divorce.
If his ex-brother-in-law could make her happy, then so be it.
At the moment, though, Eddie had more pressing concerns and was growing increasingly uneasy about coming out of hiding and exposing himself to further danger.