CHAPTER THREE
“You guys want coffee?”
Rogers and Hammerton stared coldly at David.
The two burly FBI agents no doubt had better things to do than to guard the husband of the Bureau’s darling.
They also had no intention of abdicating that responsibility, declining David’s suggestion that they go about their ordinary business and just keep their phones on.
Hammerton, a massive African American man with arms thicker around than David’s legs, replied first. “Yes, please. Black.”
Well, that’s a start. “Black like the night,” he replied with a smile.
Hammerton’s expression didn’t change. David looked at Rogers, an equally massive Caucasian man with thinner (relatively speaking) arms but a powerlifter’s barrel chest and shoulders as broad as some compact cars. “You?”
“Sure,” Rogers replied curtly.
David kept his smile on until he reached the kitchen, then dropped it with a heavy sigh. Jesus, Faith, was this really necessary?
His shoulders slumped a little as he imagined Faith glaring at him.
And if he was being honest, it was necessary.
Faith believed—and David agreed—that the Marine Corps wouldn’t bother following through on their threats as long as David stayed out of the way, but it was still frightening to think that an entire branch of the US military was angry enough at him to send pictures of him to his house and threaten him and his wife.
The thing was that it wasn’t the entire US Marine Corps.
It was only this 93rd Testing Brigade. David understood that they were a real classified unit and their actions were probably sanctioned by the Corps, but how far would the Marines really be willing to take this?
Would they actually allow his murder to cover this up?
He wasn’t so convinced. He wasn’t sure what utility their dog testing program could have anyway.
The more he turned the problem over in his mind, the more he believed that his brief flirtation with the idea of the group using telepathy to control working dogs was outlandish.
They were definitely abusing those dogs, but mind control? That was just science fiction.
But the way Sergeant Whitaker had stared at Sierra when she commanded her to behave. The way Sierra had tried to avoid her eyes, then flinched and… locked in?
“You all right?”
David jumped at Hammerton’s voice. He turned around to see the big man looking at him like he was crazy. Then he looked at the sink to see that he had overfilled the carafe and the water was now running over his hand and down the drain.
He reached forward and shut off the water. “Sorry. Yeah, I spaced out for a second.”
“You want me to make the coffee?”
“No, that’s fine.” He turned back to the FBI agent and smiled. “I got it.”
Hammerton kept the incredulous look on David for a moment before shrugging and leaving the kitchen. David heard him talking to Rogers in a low tone, and heard both agents chuckle. His cheeks burned as he started the coffee.
He really was losing his mind. He was obsessed over Sierra, and it was causing him to make poor decisions.
But damn it, someone needed to do something! If Turk was in that facility, Faith wouldn’t hesitate. Hell, she would already have broken into the Marine Corps base and broken out all of those dogs. It wasn’t fair that she was locking him at home like he was a grounded child.
Actually, she couldn’t do that. He had an important job to do at FBI headquarters examining K9s.
His office also saw K9s for various law enforcement agencies and working dogs for other branches of government in addition to the occasional civilian pet.
He couldn’t just leave that job to the other staff vets.
He was the boss, and he needed to be there.
Today was his day off, but the other two didn’t need to know that. He couldn’t completely shake these two, but they couldn’t follow him into his office. At the very least, he could call some of the numbers he’d written down.
He poured three cups of coffee and headed to the living room.
Both FBI agents looked at him warily, like they expected him to throw the coffee in their faces and start shrieking like a monkey.
He handed each of them a cup of coffee and said, “So I have to be at the office in about twenty minutes. I can be a little late, but—”
“We’ll drive you,” Rogers interrupted. It wasn’t a request.
“Sure. Thank you. And sorry again. I know I’m pulling you guys away from important work.”
“What the hell is this all about anyway?” Hammerton asked. “Not that we’re not willing to do this, but who’s after you?”
David sipped his coffee and considered his answer.
Apparently, Jessica hadn’t shared the situation with them.
That was good. Not that it really mattered considering Faith had told the director of the damned FBI, but if he could slow the spread of information, he might be able to get some work done before all of his doors were locked.
“We just got some suspicious emails,” he finally said. “I’m pretty sure they’re just pranks, but Faith’s a little jumpy because of what happened in Philadelphia. You guys heard about the thing with the Messenger?”
The Messenger was Lillian Martin, a deeply disturbed woman obsessed with Franklin West, a brutal serial killer known as the Copycat for his own obsession with Jethro Trammell, the notorious Donkey Killer who had killed Turk’s previous handler and nearly killed Faith before Michael Prince shot him dead.
Lillian had killed several people in brutal fashion to try to get Faith’s attention, including her neighbor and her boss.
Eventually, she had invaded David’s home and nearly killed him.
“Yeah, we heard,” Hammerton replied, showing the first bit of sympathy on his face that David had seen. “I get it, man. Better safe than sorry, right?”
“Sure,” David replied with a shrug. “I think it’s a waste of time, but she’s the boss.”
“Hell, I wouldn’t say no to her,” Rogers opined. He reddened a little, maybe realizing how that comment could have been taken. “Anyway, we’ll give you a ride and hang out in the waiting room or something.”
Perfect. “That works. Again, thank you guys.”
He finished his coffee, hiding his smile with his mug. He might not be a sharp super-investigator like Faith, but he could be sneaky when he needed to be.
And he needed to be. This was important. Whether Faith admitted it or not, this was worth the risks he was taking.
***
“Wow,” Mary said when David stepped through the STAFF ONLY door. “Are those for me?”
David raised an eyebrow. “Does your husband know you look at other men?”
“Hey, I can’t order, but I can read the menu.” She glanced over the counter at David’s two bodyguards, both of whom comically dwarfed the chairs they were sitting in. “And I will read the hell out of those menus.”
“Read away.”
“Any reason you’re here on your day off?”
“Yeah, just have to check on a couple of things.” She raised an eyebrow, and he said, “I’ve been getting a little lazy with paperwork lately. I figured I’d catch up so I’m not drowning tomorrow.”
“Ah,” she replied. She smiled at Rogers and Hammerton. “You take your time, Dr. Friedman.”
David patted his receptionist on the shoulder.
He headed to his office, sharing brief greetings with the nurses he passed in the hallway.
As soon as he was in his office, he locked the door and put some music on, keeping the volume low but high enough that no one could overhear him through the door.
He sat at his desk and logged into the second user profile he’d created for this investigation.
Since Faith had so easily retrieved deleted information from his laptop’s hard drive, he was no longer convinced that he could hide anything if anyone chose to look, but he needed to keep information somewhere, and if he played meek, then maybe no one would think to look.
Still, his heart pounded as he opened the list of people he’d identified who might know what was going on with the 93rd Testing Brigade. The list was small, but he knew from his conversations with Faith that it only took one thread to unravel a mystery.
He opened his desk and pulled out the prepaid phone he’d bought to have these conversations. Once they were finished, he would throw the phone away so it couldn’t be connected to him.
He dialed the first number, a widow whose husband was killed in combat shortly after lodging repeated requests for information about the reassignment of his working dog. David wasn’t ready to suspect that he had died by friendly fire, but he wasn’t ready to dismiss that possibility either.
The woman answered on the third ring. “Hello, this is Anneliese Kowalski.”
“Good morning, Miss Kowalski. My name is Dr. Daniel Tarrington. I’m a private detective investigating the disappearance of a military working dog. I understand that your husband once dealt with something like this?”
Anneliese was quiet for a long moment. “Who is this? I thought this was the party planner calling about the flowers for my sister’s wedding.”
“No, ma’am. I’m Daniel Tarrington.”
“Doctor Daniel Tarrington, the private detective?”
Shit. “Yeah, I dropped out after my internship. I still got the degree, but I’m not really cut out for the medical field. Too much blood.”
“Hmm. And what’s your license number, Mr. Tarrington?”
Shit again. “You’re not in trouble, Miss Kowalski. I just need to ask a few questions so I can see if your experience is anything like what my client is going through.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“No, wait!”
For a moment, he feared she had indeed hung up, but a few seconds later, he heard a heavy sigh. “Yes?”
David released a sigh of his own. “Look, I’m not a private detective.”
“Gee, you don’t say?”
“But I am looking into the mistreatment of working dogs. Okay, I’m a veterinarian, and a patient of mine came in showing signs of severe abuse.
Her handler’s covering it up, and my attempts to gain clarification have been met with threats.
I need to know if there’s a chance that your husband might have suffered the same thing. ”
Once more, Anneliese was quiet for a long time. When she spoke, her voice was shaky. “Um… I don’t really…”
“You don’t need to be involved,” David insisted. “You don’t know my real name, and this is a prepaid phone that can’t be traced. Please. I’m just trying to help these dogs.”
Anneliese took a deep breath and said, “The Marine Corps reassigned Gene’s working dog without telling him.
He was broken up over it. He tried requesting information on Champ’s whereabouts so he could visit, but the Corps ignored him.
When he started getting angry, his CO sat him down and basically told him to shut up about it, or he could kiss his career goodbye.
He gave up after that, but I could tell he thought they were lying to him.
Then he died, and…” She paused again, then finished with, “And I don’t know.
I can’t believe they would have killed him for being upset about a dog, but… ”
“But?”
“But he found some stuff. Something about a 93rd Testing Brigade.”
Heat and cold ran through David’s body. “Can you tell me what he found?”
“No,” she replied curtly. “I have no interest in getting involved. Damn it, Daniel, or whatever your name is, I’ve moved on.
Okay, that was Gene’s obsession, and it got him…
Or might have gotten him…” She sighed. “I’m done.
And if you’re smart, you’ll let it go too.
For God’s sake, it was just a damned dog. ”
She hung up, and David sat there for a long moment, absorbing what he’d just heard.
There was no doubt now. The 93rd Testing Brigade was real, and they had been taking dogs and abusing them for years. And they had probably killed Gene or at least had a hand in his death. Which meant they’d have no problem killing him.
But Anneliese’s last words echoed in his mind. Just a damned dog.
He didn’t blame Anneliese for her grief, but he couldn’t see it the same way. Just a damned dog.
No, they were thinking animals. Loyal animals literally bred to be the best friends human beings could ever have.
And it wasn’t just dogs. If David was right, then they had killed Gene Kowalski too.
The 93rd Testing Brigade was abusing that and using their influence and power to kill people who got in their way.
His life was in danger, but Faith put her life in danger all the time to protect the innocent, even when David had begged her not to. What he was doing now was no different.
I’m sorry, Faith.
He dialed the next number.