Chapter Twelve
Frank Walker’s office at police headquarters was a functional and tech-forward space.
Alanna could read a lot into his command style and his personality by the ergonomic comfort of his rolling chair, the clean minimalist aesthetic, and the commendations on his wall.
His desk suggested his heavy caseload even though the surface was carefully organized.
They left their weapons in the car and jumped past a team of detectives to be shown to his office. Frank stood in his doorway with jeans and a blue shirt, badge and gun, and a frown. “About time we had a sit down.”
Alanna stepped in front of Quaid. She was law enforcement, after all, and this whole mess was about her. “We’re picking up the pieces, and it’s time to share. We need local crime records.”
Frank’s brows rose. “Understood. Did your boss agree to the sharing?”
Alanna struggled with the answer. “I haven’t told him, and won’t until later. We need some help.”
Quaid shook Frank’s hand. “Sorry about dodging you. I’m not an innocent bystander. It’s not what we do.”
“As long as you understand where the business ends and the law needs to take over.”
“I have an FBI agent right here. I’m pretty clear on the parameters.”
“We don’t share well with the FBI.” The dry comment made Alanna grin.
She chose one of the blue visitor’s chairs and sat. “You will this time. Because this guy is federal, military, and local all at the same time.” Quaid stood behind her. “It’s a long story, Frank. Where do you want to start?”
“Our man from last night. Same guy, I presume?”
Quaid placed both hands on the back of her chair and leaned toward Frank. “Yes. But he’s also responsible for the gun incident at QM.”
“Assassin, too. Boy, you two are buckets of fun.”
Alanna pushed aside the FBI agent for the moment and remembered hard days when she was younger. “Are those girls all right?”
“Yes, we got them both to their families and helped get them into the shelter for a few days. Keep them safe. Who is this guy?”
Alanna looked over her shoulder at him, resigned to having to tell the story.
“His name is Andres Barton, aka Mercer. I ran into him on the streets when I was living here. I was fifteen.” Frank’s eyebrows rose, but Alanna rushed on.
“The man who was my de facto guardian knew him, too. They were military together. Frank, he’s connected to a disappearance from that timeframe.
I’d like to find out if the case is in your system.
“Back up. What does this have to do with the shooting in the QM parking lot?” Frank eased into his chair, his sharp eyes studying the two of them.
“He’s trying to draw out Alanna.”
“Why?”
Quaid sighed. “Might be because of that guardian she’s referring to. Our assassin has a complicated, violent military record. Feds want him, Navy Intelligence wants him, QM wants him.”
“And so it’s dumped in my city?”
“We’d better go back to the beginning.” Alanna’s quiet voice, while controlled and professional, had a slight tremor.
Quaid spoke to let her have a moment. “It took QM, a criminal psychologist, and two federal agencies to put this together. It’s not a clean picture. There’s too much we don’t know, and all of us still have people searching.”
Frank eased back in his chair and rubbed his stubbled jaw. “Tell me anyway.”
Quaid told him some, then turned it over to her and she went into the parts she knew. Frank stayed quiet and listened, shook his head at some, frowned at others, but didn’t interrupt.
Alanna left out parts of what happened to her because she wasn’t ready to tell Frank there was a police report somewhere on her assault. All this was rubbing salt in an open wound that still stung.
Frank pursed his lips. “Can I assume where the Navy information came from? About this tall with a hefty Navy rank on his shoulder?”
Alanna looked to Quaid, saw the neutral expression, and answered.
“Not saying his name. He didn’t tell us not to, but some of the details were culled from classified information.
My boss knows part of this, but I haven’t talked to him since we went through Barton’s military records and the military dumped the classified documents on his desk. ”
“What did he want with those teenagers last night?”
“Nothing good. After studying him, he’s a sexual predator who likes to kill and use his assassin skills to support and coverup his kills. It’s my best theory with what facts we have.”
“So which direction does this go now?”
“I need to give you dates and have you tell me if there are any other missing presumed dead girls or assaults from the same timeframe. It might help us find him.”
“It’s going to be a lot. This is an urban area.”
“I understand.” She handed Frank the folder she’d been holding.
“Mercer’s picture from the military information, the details of the assassinations they’ve uncovered, and a picture of my board in Quaid’s office with how this connects.
If we can identify a former field of play for him, we might be able to narrow the searches and set a trap. Can you help?”
Quaid put a hand on her shoulder. “He’s still after Alanna which leaves him in your city, and while he waits, he’s going to be a danger to any vulnerable teenagers.”
Frank stayed quiet, thinking as he studied their faces. “Who is going to be the lead agency?”
“FBI, Frank. But in conjunction with the police department. The Navy just wants him dead, but they can activate assets if we need assistance.”
While she had worked Mercer’s background, Quaid had quietly assessed the news in Spain from Hunt’s timeframe and discovered the death of a top level Central Command Officer during that time. He’d been a SEAL. Of course, they wouldn’t leave that one alone.
“Give me the dates. I’ll have my team start investigating. Who is your street guardian? Can I ask?”
Alanna bit her lip. She’d been pretty good at keeping it locked tight, but emotion clogged her throat. “Daniel Whitaker. You may be familiar with him from a police report. They found blood in an alley two weeks ago, but no body.”
“Yeah, I know the team handling that one.”
“He may be listed as Whit. He worked at the mission.”
“I’ll pull that, too. Alive somewhere or do you think he’s dead?”
“Undetermined.” Quaid answered for her. “We’re actively trying to find him, too.”
“So I can presume QM will be in my streets searching?” Frank studied the top sheet in the file. “A former Army Ranger and a former Green Beret? Did these two go at it in the alley?”
“Logically, if Whit was there and Mercer is in town, that would be our conclusion, yes.”
“I hate it when military stuff slops over in my town.”
Quaid grinned. “Frank, you used to be a Marine.”
“Yeah, and I served right up the road at Pendleton. But I never brought any military feuds to the community. Hell, my future wife lived here.”
“Can’t say as I brought any feuds this way either. But we were Marines. Our conduct rules were absolute, but these two were out of the service by the time it blew up here.”
Alanna’s energy sagged, and she knew it was time to close this. “Can you get us some more to work with?”
Frank stood, sighing in exasperation at the file now spread on his desk. “Yeah, we’ll check missing persons, old reports, and older crimes and see what we can find. I’ll call you. But keep me in the loop this time, and tell your boss. I don’t want to get accused of poaching on FBI territory.”
“Deal.” Alanna rose and put her hands in her suit pockets. “Thanks, Frank.”
He pointed at Quaid. “And for future reference, don’t bring this shit into my neighborhood.”
“Understood.” Quaid handled the admonishment with grace, but remained noncommittal.
They walked to the elevator. He pushed the down button. “Will this help?”
Alanna rubbed the bridge of her nose, a headache incoming. “Yes. We need more information to find what’s relevant, but I’m overwhelmed at the moment.”
“Then, let’s go home, put it down for the night.”
It was Quaid’s home, but she agreed.
She was leaning heavily on his support and his wealth, but she needed the comfort, she needed the backup, and she needed the safety net of his arms. And she wanted to hold and kiss him again.
There’d been times when pep talking herself into the professional persona was the only way she had to be confident in who she was. To have Quaid stand with her left her banishing all her doubts.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Standing with me.”
“You’d do the same. Have done the same when we believed it was about me.”
But it wasn’t the same thing.
She brought her brains and experience to the table, but this man brought more, and she didn’t understand how she could have mentally reduced him to a playboy.
She didn’t see him that way anymore.
&&&&&&&&&&
Quaid’s home sat beachside of the Pacific Ocean in one of the older moneyed neighborhoods north of downtown San Diego.
The houses were large without being ostentatious, and the landscaping was discreet layers of blooms and greens while being private.
The two-story coastal contemporary charmed with pale stone, weathered cedar, and smooth lines.
Wide windows faced west to the ocean, catching the waves and the sunset, but not curious eyes.
A low wall and steel gate enclosed the property with olive trees shading the drive, their twisted trunks older than the house.
His connection to the house with its beach front, big patios, lush gardens, and roomy interior had been instantaneous, and he’d leveraged all he had to secure the property.
He’d never been sorry. Especially not tonight with Alanna by his side.
Only the second time here, and her presence felt right and promising.
Quaid waved off Braun and slipped out of the SUV, then took Alanna’s hand and helped her out.
“Two nights in a row I’m stumbling into your home like I don’t have one of my own.”
“Yours is a ninety-minute drive away.”
Alanna groaned. “Don’t remind me.” She kept his hand in hers.
Too soon to ask any major relationship questions, he stifled a response. That she was here soothed his tired soul.