Chapter 15
Dale watched her walk away, knowing she was right and strangely dissatisfied with her response. It seemed a shame that life had forced her to develop such wisdom so early. But there was no reasonable explanation for the challenges life tossed out, he knew that first hand.
While he felt old and bitter under the burden of grief and loss, she’d managed to perfect the art of smiling through everything. It was more evidence he should walk away from her at the earliest opportunity. A woman like Heather deserved so much more than he could offer.
So why did thinking of her with some younger, faceless bastard make him want to punch something?
Typical possessiveness, he decided. Human nature. Part of going through a tough time with someone was that strange connection that developed. The sexual encounter had been a simple life-affirming reaction. Nothing to stress over or dwell on.
In a last-ditch attempt at self-preservation, he sat down at the table, determined to close this case. Scrolling through the photos, the faces blurred in and out of focus, but he knew there was more than enough for a prosecutor to take over.
The absolute confirmation of Bingham with Lester sent a cold fury through his system. Dale considered and discarded the notion that Bingham was sharing a car with Lester for some undercover operation. Couldn’t be. Bingham’s face was well-known in this area because of his job. He gave statements on television, his name appeared frequently as a cited source in newspapers across the state. Lester would never have believed Bingham was anything but an agent working undercover. There was no valid reason Dale could come up with to explain why Bingham would be sharing a car with a criminal like Lester.
Except the disturbing reality that Bingham was there as a guest or partner of the event.
Dale suddenly lost his appetite. A partnership explained how Lester operated his dogfights with such cavalier success. With Bingham paving the way, DNR officials like Zelnick would hardly matter.
He drummed his fist against the tabletop. And a partnership between Lester and Bingham meant Dale’s original plan was doomed to fail.
There were too many convenient scapegoats among the crew. Too many men who would willingly take the blame and protect Lester, the man who rewarded loyalty with more and more money and prestige.
Dale kept going, desperate to find something to put the nail in Lester’s coffin. Bingham’s too. As he’d told Heather, if they didn’t cut off the head of the operation, it would just keep on growing.
She might want to stop it for the sake of the animals, but he wanted more. He needed to know she’d be safe when this was over.
Dale kept looking at the pictures Heather had taken. This was more than a crew of lowlifes and thugs looking for gory entertainment to bet on. Lester had convinced several of society’s elite to drive into the wilderness and throw money away periodically.
For what?
The thrill of being part of illegal activity? All of the spectators had arrived in luxury vehicles. Every hand clutching money boasted a shiny watch, a ring, or … “I’ll be damned.” He zoomed in on each hand, as much as the software would allow. It would take a professional to confirm it, but the matching signet rings explained so much. This discovery would drastically narrow the field when it came time to sort out who in the South Carolina DNR was in on the operation.
He wanted to stand up and roar in victory, though he needed to change his plan of attack.
Saving the evidence to Heather’s open cloud storage, he then chose key shots and sent them to Ross and the Haleswood Sheriff’s Department with a quick case overview and request for backup. Capable or not, he didn’t want Heather anywhere near Lester after hearing what the guard had said about her.
Feeling more than a little guilty, though it hadn’t just been his mistake that put her in jeopardy, he didn’t take the time to do any more than sign out of Heather’s programs when room service knocked on the door.
“Just a second.” She was still in the shower, so he didn’t interrupt her. He peered through the peep-hole, saw the waiter looking down at his cart and opened the door.
Another stupid mistake, he thought, as his eyes landed on the gun aimed at his chest. Maybe they’d all be better off if he took the bullet point blank and let Ross and Heather’s brother take it from here. Except that left Heather to deal with this.
“I was expecting you,” he said to Bingham. Just not quite so soon. “Where’s your buddy?” Dale looked up and down the hall, knowing Bingham wouldn’t be this brave if he hadn’t managed to lockdown the floor. Still the alcove in front of their suite was a clear advantage for his boss.
“How thorough of you to put it together,” Bingham said with an irritable shake of his head. “Where’s the little lady?”
No way Dale would compound this mistake by letting anyone get to Heather. Protecting her was his first priority, as it should have been from the beginning. He was damned tired of putting her in harm’s way.
“She’s resting.” Dale stepped into the hall and pulled the door closed behind him. He tucked his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “We had a long night celebrating.”
“Drop the act, Nichols. I know it’s a sham.”
“Drop the gun,” Dale countered.
“Just cooperate.” He gestured toward the door with the gun. “Let’s take this inside.”
Dale patted his pockets. “How stupid. I locked myself out.”
Bingham looked back into the hallway. “You’re wasting time,” he snarled. “Open the door.”
Dale shook his head. “Can’t.”
“Knock, damn you.”
Dale did his best impression of Heather’s disarming, polite smile. “She needs her sleep.”
Bingham swore. “Just come with me. It will be easier for everyone.”
Dale didn’t believe that, knew Bingham didn’t expect him to believe it. “What’s the problem, boss? I’m trying to have a weekend off here.”
Bingham’s jaw clenched and his neck turned red in angry blotches above the pale yellow of his polo shirt. “And I have a tee time in an hour.”
“Don’t want you to miss that.” Dale shuffled his feet.
“Let’s move, Nichols.”
“Sure.” Dale shrugged and took half a step, then he upended the cart into Bingham’s body. His boss managed to hold onto the gun as they tumbled back into the hallway.
Dale flung himself on top of his boss, wrestling for control of the gun while Bingham shouted for help. Dale didn’t much care who might answer Bingham. This ended here and now. He plowed a fist into Bingham’s gut, drove an elbow into his jaw. “What the hell are you thinking?”
Bingham couldn’t answer as he tried to get his stunned diaphragm to cooperate. He shook his head, his eyes pleading, but Dale wasn’t in a forgiving mood. He hauled his boss to his feet, pinned him to the wall and gave him a hard shake.
“You’ve let Lester walk on how many charges?”
“Not here,” Bingham wheezed. “Inside.”
“Hell no.” Dale wouldn’t take this anywhere near Heather.
“Wrong.” Bingham gasped for air. “Mistake.” His eyes slid from side to side, up and down the hallway, but no one was coming to assist Bingham.
Dale put every bit of pent up frustration over Lester’s continued operations and the risk they posed to Heather as well as the general community into his scrap with his boss. Bingham was older, but no slouch.
And desperate, Dale realized as the man went limp long enough to slide from Dale’s grasp and grab the closest weapon—a piece of a broken plate.
He lunged for Dale’s gut and Dale spun away unscathed. If there had been any doubt in Dale’s mind over Bingham’s innocence, the attack erased it.
His hands open like blades, Dale used the close quarters and the cart to his advantage, driving Bingham into the corner of the alcove of the hotel room door and disarming him once more.
“Enough,” Dale said, his forearm a hard bar against Bingham’s throat. “Surrender. Show some self-respect and deal with this rationally.”
“It’s too late for me,” Bingham said, utterly defeated. Tears glistened in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Dale heard the crunch of a boot on broken pottery and the quick pop-pop of a silenced pistol being fired twice. Two small holes appeared in Bingham’s forehead and his eyes went blank.
“Ah, the added benefits of the off season at the beach.”
The cultured voice of Anthony Lester scraped at Dale’s nerves. He eased Bingham’s body to the floor and then turned. Lester picked his way carefully through the mess, flanked by two of his personal guards.
“Special Agent Dale Nichols?”
As if his identity needed any confirmation. Lester and Dale had met on more than one occasion, usually with Bingham taking the lead.
“Yes.” Dale stood up and rolled his shoulders back.
Lester’s gaze took in Bingham’s body. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“You’re on quite a spree this weekend.”
“Let’s take this inside, shall we?”
“No.” Dale couldn’t take on all three of them, but that didn’t mean he had to cooperate in his demise. He was only delaying the inevitable. There was no way for Heather to escape. Other than over the balcony. His stomach clutched at the image.
With a put-upon sigh, Lester nodded to the man on his left who then stepped up to Dale, gun in hand. “Give him the key,” Lester ordered.
“It’s inside,” Dale replied with a shrug. “Whoops.”
“Tell her to open the door.”
Dale looked around. “She’s not here.”
Lester glared at him. “I came here to clean up a mess your boss made. You can be part of the solution or…” He left the sentence hanging, but his gaze landed on Bingham.
“Whatever you used to turn him won’t work on me.”
“That is a shame. I rather liked your work ethic. And your woman is delightful.” He gestured to the door and the second of his thugs stepped up and swiped a master key. Lester chuckled as he led the procession into the suite. “You underestimate my charm, Nichols.”
“I doubt that.”
“We’ll see. I can be quite, ah, motivating when I choose.” When they were all inside, they dropped Bingham’s body in front of the door. Lester ordered Dale cuffed to the chair, then he started to look around for Heather.
Dale struggled against his restraints. His gun sat useless in his duffel across the room. Any possible weapons were well out of reach. Neither of Lester’s henchmen would be overcome as easily as Bingham. Where his boss had gone soft, life had continued to hone Lester and those he employed.
“Oh, Miss Morris?” Lester called. “Do join us.”
No answer.
Lester looked at Dale. “It seems you’re well-matched when it comes to being stubborn. That can be so problematic in a relationship. I like my women more biddable.”
Dale didn’t bother to reply. The man was having enough fun without his help and there were far more important things on Dale’s mind. Like where Heather and all of the electronics that had been on the table had gone.
He kept his gaze on Lester, trying to stay amused by his arrogant posturing. Dale refused to glance around and give these bastards any assistance in their search.
But they had it down without any help from him. They systematically cleared the closet. They looked under the bed and tore down the curtains.
“I do believe you are going to be on the hook for damages, Agent Nichols.”
Dale shrugged. “Worse things have happened.”
“And will again, I’m sure,” Lester said. He pulled out a butterfly knife and flipped it open.
“Memento from the streets?” Dale wanted more of Lester’s attention, wanted to buy time. Surely someone on staff had heard the commotion and called police.
It was a sad day if he was relying on the kindness of strangers.
“In a manner of speaking,” Lester replied as he stared lovingly at the gleaming silver blade. He threw the knife to the floor, right through the top of Dale’s bare foot.
The pain lanced up through Dale’s leg, hot as lightning. He winced and applied himself to the nearly insurmountable task of keeping still. Any flinch would do more damage. He was literally stuck in place.
“Oh dear,” Lester deadpanned. “Where have you stashed the woman?”
Dale shook his head. “Told you. She’s not here.” His breath hissed out between his teeth. He’d been through worse. As long as they didn’t get Heather or the evidence, he could tolerate Lester’s bullying. “I’m surprised you’re so involved in your operation.”
“Hands on has always been my preferred approach.”
“It works for some.”
“From this point on, you need only care that it works for me. As will you.”
“She’s not here, boss,” Thing One told Lester.
“She must be.” Lester stood, turning a slow circle around the room.
Dale smiled, thinking of Heather and her resourcefulness. He didn’t know how she’d done it, but she was gone. Lester’s men had checked the bathroom and the balcony and searched the place again as if she might have magically jumped between hiding places.
Lester walked out onto the balcony and looked down. Dale willed the man to topple over the edge to the beach below. He wished Thing One or Thing Two might have a nervous breakdown and give their boss a push. To his dismay, reality ruled and neither happened.
Which gave him plenty of time to wonder how the hell Heather had escaped.
Lester stepped back inside and swore violently. “Where is she?”
Dale shrugged. “No idea.”
“Find the evidence,” he barked at his men. “Destroy it.”
Dale couldn’t let that happen. “We’ve already sent it on.” He held his ground when Lester wheeled around, glaring at him. “Add that to the statement from the guard who was so very helpful after the dogfight and you will finally see the inside of a prison cell.”
Lester seethed, but his voice was calm. “Never.”
“I’m sure more than a few in your closed ring,” he emphasized the word, “of friends will happily trade information for shorter sentences.”
“What did you say?”
So the rings were as important as he thought. Now he just had to survive long enough to make that detail count. “I said you’re going to jail.” He leaned forward as much as the cuffs allowed. “For a long time.”
“I’ll kill you.” Lester’s fury was a palpable force as his bodyguard’s tossed the room. “Cooperate with me or die. It’s your last chance.”
“Let me think.” Dale stared at the ceiling. “Door number two.”
The blow snapped his head around and would definitely leave a mark. Worse, the force of the hit knocked him back and the knife shifted in his foot. He bit back the scream, managing to keep it to a dull groan.
“You can’t beat me, Nichols. I’ve been at this far too long.”
“Then there should be a nice long list of charges.”
“Find something,” Lester roared at his men. He put his face close to Dale’s. “We know she accessed the hotel wi-fi this morning. We know you were out there at the fights last night.”
“Wrong,” Dale said, defiantly. “I was here, with my fiancé.”
“Oh, son, you’re a lousy actor.” He leaned back, straightening his jacket and cuffs. “We know she is the source and we know where she lives.”
Dale’s breath stalled out. Of course, with Bingham’s help, Lester’s access was unlimited. Still, he had to buy time. If only to give Heather a bigger head start. “How did you turn Bingham?”
“Feeling sorry for your boss, Agent Nichols?”
“Maybe a little.”
“Don’t,” Lester snapped. “The man had more than one bad habit and it was nothing for a man like me to exploit them.”
“That’s what you do.”
“We all have a skill set.” Lester reached down and pulled the knife cleanly out of Dale’s foot and flipped the blade closed. “I’m a businessman, Agent Nichols. And I do regret we couldn’t come to terms.” He turned to Thing One. “We’ve wasted enough time. Kill him and let’s go get the girl.”
“Wait!” Dale shouted. “What would it take for you to leave her out of it?”
“So you do have a weakness.”
Dale glared at him. “Name your terms.”
“Robe’s wet.” Thing 2 held up the robe Heather had been wearing when he’d held her on the balcony.
“That was mine,” Dale said.
Lester snorted. “Shut up. I want the files, the codes, the names she’s deciphered. The pictures.”
“You can have it,” Dale lied. He didn’t know where her camera and tablet had gone.
“The backups too.”
“I know those passwords,” he said, sounding desperate. Not to live, no. He knew they would kill him whether he cooperated or not. No, he was desperate they would believe him.
Lester waved for him to go on. “Tell me.”
“Not memorized,” Dale stalled. “Bring me my bag.”
“No.”
“What are you afraid of? I’m cuffed and crippled,” he complained. “There’s a card with the passwords and logins in my bag.”
“Check it out,” Lester said.
Thing One complied, dumping out the bag in question on the bed. Dale’s fingers twitched at the sight of his gun as it bounced onto the bedspread. He’d never reach it in time to do any damage, but still every ounce of pride he had left urged him to go down fighting.
He heard it then, another quiet pop, this time followed by a loud hiss. He did a quick inventory and belatedly saw one of the tear gas grenades he’d brought along was missing.
Heather!
As Thing One and Thing Two looked around, smoke poured out from under the bed. Lester shouted orders, but his voice was quickly choked by the harsh, stinging fog filling the room.
A gun went off and Thing Two went down. Maybe they would get lucky and Lester and his idiots would take out themselves.
Tears streaming down his face, Dale told himself he could breathe even as his lungs argued and labored. He stood and used the chair as a weapon, tackling the disoriented Thing One.
The force broke the chair and Dale rolled away from the debris, just in time to see Lester struggling to reach the balcony doors.
They would lose the advantage if the tear gas dissipated. Dale scrambled after him, fighting the urge to vacate the room, but Heather appeared, blocking Lester’s path, a gun pointed at the man’s chest.
“Don’t kill him,” Dale rasped. He couldn’t be sure through his blurred vision, but it looked like she was naked except for something around her mouth.
“Why not?”
“Motivation for the rest of the bettors,” he said.
She pulled the trigger anyway. Dale ducked, waiting for Lester to fall, but another scream of pain and the loud crash of a body came from behind him.
A second shot rang out and Lester jerked back, hopping on one foot, the obscenities expressing his temper and pain muffled by the powerful tear gas.
Dale prayed the relatively still bodies around him meant an end to the ordeal.
“I have the guns,” Heather said, kneeling at his side. “And the key.”
He felt her working at the cuffs, felt her hands trembling, as they hurried into the other room. He tried to offer soothing words, but his throat was raw. When she’d freed his hands, he wrapped his arms around her. He wanted to tell her she was amazing, but the words stuck in his throat.
Too soon, she wriggled free of his embrace and he felt lost before he realized she was opening the doors to clear the room.
“The knife?” he asked when he could talk. Lester and his men were still debilitated by the gas, rubbing at their eyes and making the problem worse. Dale didn’t bother to correct their mistake.
“Got that too,” she assured him.
He blinked, struggling to see her clearly. “You’re naked.”
“Wasn’t much time to dress.”
He watched her pull on the nearest garments—his shirt from last night fell to mid-thigh, covering everything important. While he didn’t want Lester or his men getting a look at her, he decided he missed the sexy view.
“They looked under the bed,” he said, sounding stupid even in his head. “It’s closed off.” He’d stubbed his toe on the damn box they used instead of a bed skirt.
“It’s a fa?ade,” she explained, cringing at the bloody shoeprint on her field pants. “I hope they don’t seize these as evidence,” she joked, wiggling the pants up over her hips anyway. “They’ll be here any second.”
“Who?” He was unprofessionally distracted by her choosing to go commando rather than make an effort to find underwear.
“Police! Open up!”
One question answered. Dialed back into the moment, he rolled to his feet, ignoring the pain. “I’ll get it.” He didn’t want her to see Bingham.
She hesitated and he seized the opportunity to put himself between her and more death. “Cover me,” he said, attempting a smile.
Her lips curved in response. “Sure thing.” She turned, training her weapon on the men sprawled and groaning on the floor of the bedroom.
God, she was beautiful. He opened his mouth to tell her, but the police broke down the door, taking immediate note of the body blocking their path.
Dale raised his hands and identified himself as FBI, patiently waiting for someone to register the words.
Deputy Morris and Sheriff Cochran were right behind the first tactical unit. “Where is my sister?” Morris demanded.
“Watching the prisoners,” Dale said proudly. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “She’ll be happy to see you.”
And he would be sorry to see her go.
They were quickly separated by both the legal process and her brother and the questioning commenced in gas-free areas. It shouldn’t have been a surprise when she left without so much as a backward glance under the shelter of her brother’s arm.
But it was.
Wounds were treated, Lester and his men hauled away. Dale gave his statement repeatedly, hating the void and questions left by Bingham’s betrayal of the system they’d sworn to uphold.
When he was finally cleared to leave the destroyed suite, he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He had his car keys, his wallet and badge, and his clothing. The rest had been confiscated.
He managed to tuck his bandaged foot into his boot, leaving the laces undone.
“You made quite a mess, Nichols,” Ross Carpenter said from the doorway.
“Thanks. I try,” Dale replied. “Running late?”
“Maybe, but at least I’m running.”
Dale shook his head. “What brings you by?”
“Just checking in. Didn’t Morris tell you about our night?”
“No.” Deputy Morris had been worried about his sister, and rightly so. Dale looked around the room, guilt swamping him. This had been a close call. Too close. “She hid under the bed,” he blurted. She was so damned clever. And one hell of a good shot.
“They didn’t look?”
“They did.” Dale had watched them. “That box thing,” he tapped it with his boot, “it’s fake.”
“Good for her.”
“Good for both of us.” He stood up, decided the pain was manageable. “I screwed this up.”
“Not from where I’m standing. You brought down a major crime syndicate. Singlehandedly. That tip on Zelnick clinched it. We can’t shut him up.”
“There were two of us,” Dale snapped. He should be happier about what Ross was telling him, but he was increasingly furious that Heather’s efforts might get overlooked.
Ross held up his hands. “Two of you. Got it.”
“Heather broke the code. The players and locations. She broke the whole thing wide open.”
“Smart woman.”
“She’s brave too,” Dale said, limping toward the elevator.
“She’d have to be to impress you,” Ross replied. “Don’t you want to hear the rest?”
“You turned the guard?”
“Well, the sheriff did. Once he got the email.”
“What email?”
“She sent a text with her password for a picture dump online.”
“When?”
“Sometime this morning. J.C. called me back in to confirm where and when I picked up the suspect. They were able to put him at the scene thanks to a secondary security camera at the shelter.”
“A camera set up by Heather.” Another precaution she hadn’t mentioned. “She didn’t tell me that.”
The elevator doors parted and Ross matched Dale’s lumbering pace out to the parking garage. “What are you going to do about it?”
“The case?”
“To start.”
Dale sighed. The case was all he knew, all he ever wanted to know. “I’ll let the prosecutor handle it from here.”
“You’ll stay on in the Columbia office?”
That would take more time to sort out. Big busts sometimes resulted in promotions. A few days ago, Dale might have jumped at a chance for a bigger office with more opportunities for challenging assignments. Now… he wasn’t sure.
While he’d never admit it to Ross, he didn’t like the idea of leaving Heather’s general vicinity. What if Lester’s crew tried to retaliate? It was a lame excuse for the deeper attachment he didn’t want to examine. “I’ll stick around,” he said. “For a while.”
“Well,” Ross reached out and shook Dale’s hand. “If you need anything, just call.”
Dale agreed, though he knew Ross couldn’t give him what he really needed: a chance to talk with Heather.