Complicity in Heels (20 page)

The gap between them extended.

“Gemini send you?”

“No.”

Lacey eyed Nikki with increased suspicion. The muscles in her face tightened. “I find that hard to believe, very hard to believe.”

“Well, he didn’t.” Nikki shrugged and made a wry little face. “He has no idea I’m here.”

Lacey picked up her pace.

“Don’t make me chase you,” Nikki warned.

Lacey kept moving then made a break at the last second for a long hallway at the back of the waiting area.

“Damn it, Lacey.”
I hate it when they run
, she thought. Nikki shook her head and took off after her.

A mixed crowd of men and women fled from the corridor.

“Blondie’s got a gun!” a businessman yelled.

The warning quickly rippled out the mouths of several others, accompanied by a chorus of screams from fellow passengers.

“Federal Agent,” Nikki announced, drawing her weapon and moving past the commotion.

“In the ladies’ room!” an elderly woman called out.

Nikki eased up next to the door from the push-plate side.

“Be careful, young lady.”

Nikki acknowledged the woman with a nod, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open hard.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

L
acy had stuffed the sinks full of paper towels and turned all the faucets on high, hoping they might overflow before Nikki arrived. She then grabbed the nearby janitor’s cart and dragged it behind her. Steam fogged the mirrors as water began to pour onto the floor.

The door burst open. Nikki charged in. “Special Agent Frank,” she yelled, pushing through the kill zone.

Lacey flinched, letting go of the cart.

“Put your weapon down.”

Lacey ignored the command and retreated to a midlevel window past the stalls. Frantic, she fumbled around for the sash lock, trying to open it.

“Put your weapon down now,” Nikki ordered her.

Lacey chuckled as she turned around. “I knew you were too good to be true. Pork has a certain stench.”

For a tense few seconds, the women stared each other down, ready to shoot.

Nikki pressed forward past the janitor’s cart, watching Lacey like a jackal waiting to scavenge a fresh carcass. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

“And rob you of this golden opportunity to square off with me?”

Nikki came to within striking distance. “As much as I’d love to kick your ass, this is gonna go down by the book.”

Lacey dropped the duffel bag on the floor, knelt, and placed the semiautomatic in front of her. “Pussy!”

Nikki moved in to kick the weapon away. Her phone rang. She hesitated. Lacey lunged forward, grabbing Nikki’s leg and sweeping her off her feet. Nikki tumbled backward, hitting the floor hard and crying out in pain. Her Glock flew out of her hand and slid under one of the stalls. Lacey scrambled on top of her. The two women rolled around the wet floor, a blur of hands and feet. Nikki managed to pull one arm free and reached for the plastic caution: wet floor sign on the janitor’s cart. She grabbed it and struck Lacey across the back repeatedly. Lacey let go of Nikki and flailed about. Nikki gasped for air, her heart racing. Exhausted, she yanked Lacey up from the floor and threw a solid punch across her face. The impact sent Lacey plummeting back to the floor.

Nikki rolled her over onto her stomach. “Lacey Johnson,” she said, out of breath, “you’re under arrest for the murder of Victor Patrone.” She reached down and began to place Lacey’s hands behind her back when her phone rang once again.

“Frank,” she answered.

“Touch of Style—”

“Janice,” Nikki said, cutting her off. “The suspect has been detained. Where’s that chase team?”

“I just spoke with the team leader,” Janice replied. “They’re closing in on you now. Stand by. I’ve got Harlan on a separate line.”

Nikki waited for Harlan to be patched through.

“Nicole, we found him. He’s fine,” Harlan announced.

“Marty?”

“Yes.”

“What?” Nikki practically shrieked.

“Yeah, we’re getting reports now that your brother was located in the woods, three and a half miles from Paris Oaks,” Harlan replied.

“How’d he get there?”

“The rescue coordination specialist stated that the mentally disabled often get lost because they have no goal or intention beyond leaving their current location. They just go, like a car without a driver, until they get stuck by terrain or insurmountable obstacles.”

Nikki reached underneath her wet shirt and removed a pair of zip-tie cuffs from her body holster. “What was Marty trying to do?” she asked.

“Nobody knows for sure, but Ms. Daniel from Paris Oaks believes he was trying to reach you. Something about his obsessive-compulsive disorder being triggered after he claimed he spotted you on campus—along with the repeated denial of a reunion with you—driving the compulsion.”

She sighed. “Makes sense.”

“Marty was nervous but excited when they found him. He said he was hungry, but as I mentioned, he appears to be fine.”

“When can I see him?”

“I’m working on that now.”

Nikki’s spirit soared. “Thank you, Harlan.”

“I’ll be in touch when I have that issue resolved,” he said, then hung up.

Nikki put her phone away and glanced down at Lacey. She was sprawled out on the floor, moaning. Nikki grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back. Lacey looked up, stunned. “Not a word about me being a federal agent,” Nikki warned.

“Or what?” Lacey asked defiantly.

“Or I’ll tell Gem that you and Patrone were lovers who were working together to set him up as the fall guy for the Lascano cartel’s missing money.”

Lacey remained silent.

Nikki gave her hair a slight tug in response.

“Ow!” Lacey screamed. “Bitch, that hurt.”

“If option one isn’t enough to get you killed, I’ll dime you out to Patrone’s people myself. Speaking as someone who just got out of the pen, cartels love making examples out of criminals behind bars: captive audience, captive prey.”

“Deal,” Lacey said instantly. “You’ve got a deal.”

Nikki let go of her hair and cuffed her hands behind her back. “Damn right we’ve got a deal, because bitches get shit done.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

T
wo days had passed since the staged DEA bust. The chase team came and went; Lacey was in custody; and Nikki had managed to retrieve her Buick from the harbor parking lot. Now she stood outside the Compound gate, waiting as instructed, with the recovered money.

A black Rolls-Royce Phantom limousine pulled up next to her and stopped. The rear tinted window lowered. “Get in,” Tony ordered.

The passenger door flew open. Inside, across from the bodyguard, sat Quinn. Nikki picked up the duffel bag and handed it to Tony then climbed inside.

“I trust it’s all there,” he said.

Nikki nodded. “It always has been.”

Tony smiled. “Good, then I won’t need to count it.”

The Phantom pulled away from the curb.

“Gentlemen,” Nikki said, “it appears our business has concluded.”

Quinn raised his hand. “Not so fast.” He traced his thumb and forefinger down the sides of his goatee.

Nikki’s stomach churned, uncertainty gripping her.

“And the thief?” Quinn asked.

“You mean Lacey?”

“Whoever.”

“I let her go.”

Quinn’s demeanor changed as a frown unfolded beneath his goatee. “Let her go?”

“That’s right,” Nikki said, turning away from his probing gaze and glancing out the window. The Rolls-Royce circled the block.

“Why?”

“Because I’m not a hired gun. I’m a broker who specializes in white-collar crime.”

Quinn’s frown melted as he exchanged a look of concern with his bodyguard. Tony sat motionless, the duffel bag on his lap as he rolled his double-tailed coin across his knuckles. Quinn shifted his attention back to Nikki.

“It was my understanding that I was to help retrieve the money,” she continued.

“True.”

Nikki hesitated, aware that she might be pushing the boundaries here. “I’m confused. Patrone is dead, and you have your money. That’s a wash.”

Quinn motioned with his head for Tony to give the duffel bag back to Nikki. The bodyguard pocketed his coin and handed over the cash.

“Good point,” Quinn said.

Nikki was puzzled by the gesture. She studied Quinn’s face, trying to figure him out, but he remained expressionless. All she could do was wait for an explanation.

“Nothing’s changed,” he said in an irritated tone. “The Cordoza crew is still responsible for laundering this money up to New York…unless I hear from Francisco, and I have yet to have that conversation.”

“Oh,” Nikki said, surprised.

Quinn glanced at Tony. “Have you heard from Francisco?”

The bodyguard shook his head. “Negative, boss.”

Nikki grinned. “Gem will be pleased to hear this. Thank you.”

“Bottom line,” Quinn added, “Patrone was my employee, my problem. His indiscretions shouldn’t reflect negatively on you. If anything, it shows structural flaws within my organization, something I can’t afford to make known at this time.”

The Rolls-Royce approached the gated driveway of the Compound. The chauffeur paused for a moment to allow the groundskeeper to grant him access. Seconds later, the automated gate retracted into the frame. The Phantom pulled forward and headed straight toward the hotel. Once it arrived, the chauffeur stepped out of the limo and placed the two duffel bags next to each other on the curb.

Quinn lowered the passenger window to eye level. “We’ll be in touch,” he said.

Nikki gave him a cursory nod as the window rose back up. An instant later, the Rolls-Royce was gone.

Nikki stooped to pick up one of the duffel bags. She buckled beneath the weight of it as she staggered from the portico to the lobby entrance. The automated doors whisked opened. She stepped inside, dropped the bag on the floor, and pressed the intercom button on the wall. “Willard,” Nikki called out. “Gemini!” No one responded. She pressed the button again and waited. Nothing.

“Hello? Anybody there?”

Finally, Willard appeared from around the corner.

“You sleeping on the job?” Nikki asked as he approached.

He shook his head. “I’m the consummate professional, Ms. Frank.”

Nikki smirked at the remark.

“What can I do for you, ma’am?”

She pointed to the automated doors behind her. “One professional to another, could you grab that second duffel bag out on the curb and take it to the main conference suite?”

Willard nodded. “Will do.”

“Thank you.”

Cordoza arrived moments later, slightly out breath. “What’s going on?”

Nikki’s stomach tightened. “We need to talk.”

Cordoza picked up the duffel bag next to her. “Clearly you salvaged the deal, so what’s this about?”

The two moved forward.

“Lacey bailed on us,” Nikki said flatly.

Cordoza stopped and dropped the bag. “I was afraid that might happen.”

A long pause followed as he zoned out.

“Gem?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry this happened to you.”

The vacant look on Cordoza’s face began to dissipate. “Really, I should’ve known. She’d been acting strange the past couple of months,” he admitted. “Cold, distant, secretive.”

“Looks like present circumstances have only confirmed what you already knew to be true in your heart.”

Cordoza nodded. “How long ago?”

“Several hours.”

“Did she say where she was headed or why she was leaving?”

Nikki hesitated. “No, just that she needed space.”

Cordoza chuckled. “Space? Really?”

“I know,” Nikki replied. “It’s one of those cryptic things we women say whenever we don’t want to confront our issues head on.”

Cordoza pulled in a deep breath and shook his head. “How convenient.”

“Look, I know you’re hurting, but these things take time.”

Cordoza clenched his jaw tightly. “When in the hell has time ever solved anything?”

Nikki didn’t answer.

“That’s what I thought,” Cordoza said, picking up the duffel bag at his side.

“Gem—”

“Enough. Let’s get to work.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

N
ikki returned to the warehouse later that afternoon. Inside, it was warm and well lit by natural light. She made her way over to the modified shipping container and noticed the door was propped open this time. The makeshift office had been freshly painted to reflect the new ownership of the building.

Nikki stepped inside the container. Harlan and Special Agent Bolston sat next to each other on one side of the table. Director Kepler remained standing, leaning against the wall, perusing a newspaper.

“Everything is set in motion,” Nikki announced. “Cordoza and I will launder the cash for Quinn by the agreed-upon deadline.”

Kameko gave her a thumbs-up.

“Terrific work, Nicole,” Harlan said, removing his glasses and wiping them clean.

Nikki smiled. “Thank you.”

“Once you initiate the process,” he continued, putting his glasses back on, “we’ll sit tight, follow the digital footprints, and see where they lead.”

“Hopefully they’ll lead to something big,” Director Kepler added. “There’s a lot riding on this.”

“Agreed,” Kameko said.

Director Kepler folded his newspaper and placed it on the table. “Agent Frank…”

Nikki perked up.

“Personally, I didn’t think you’d be able to salvage the deal. I was prepared to write this off as a bust.”

Nikki pulled out a chair opposite Harlan and Kameko and sat down. “A lot of people make that mistake, sir.”

“What mistake is that?”

She grinned a little. “Underestimating me.”

The director chuckled. “Well, success didn’t come without a price.”

Her smiled quickly faded. “And what price is that?”

“Have you seen this morning’s paper?”

She shook her head.

He leaned over and slid the newspaper across the table toward her. “Page two,” he directed.

Nikki unfolded the newspaper and turned to the appropriate page. The headline jumped out at her like a jack-in-the-box: “Harbor Patrol Officer, Mariner Dead after Shootout over Cartel Lieutenant’s Vehicle.” Underneath the headline was a photograph of the slain officer and the boat pilot. Chills swept up Nikki’s spine as she skimmed the rest of the article. “That’s not how it went down,” she complained.

“What do you mean?” Harlan asked.

Nikki folded the paper closed and laid it back on the table. “Those men were alive when I left the scene.”

“And?”

“And they were arguing over the money in the trunk, not the car.”

Director Kepler scooped the newspaper up from the table. “What do you suppose happened?”

“Tony Chen, that’s what happened.” Nikki crossed her arms. “Bastard!”

Director Kepler frowned.

“Street money, when collected, sir,” Nikki began, “is always split and placed in two separate duffel bags. When we arrived on the scene, we discovered we were one short. Both the boat pilot and the officer took a keen interest in the lone bag, which was a problem for Chen.”

“And your gut feeling on this?”

“If I had to guess, Chen murdered the cop and boat pilot then staged it to look like a fight over a luxury car.”

“So this whole shootout—”

“Shoddy journalism at best, but I’m leaning toward blatant media cover-up.”

Kameko laughed dryly. “They’re pretty much synonymous.”

“If Quinn’s got a few officers down at the police department on the payroll, how hard is it to buy off an entire newspaper department and get them to print the stories you want printed?” Nikki said, turning toward Harlan.

He gave her a lopsided grin. “A bit conspiratorial, but now that you mention it, entirely plausible.” Harlan raised his hand to his chin and cocked his head to one side. “It would be a stroke of genius on his part if he pulled that off, the ultimate in damage control.”

“And Lacey?” Nikki asked, changing the subject.

“She’s agreed to testify on our behalf.”

“In exchange for?”

Harlan’s face tightened. “Safekeeping from the Lascano cartel.”

“You mean witness protection?”

“Yeess,” he replied, drawing out the word.

“It’d better not be Boca Raton or some other country-club setting either,” Nikki said.

“It won’t be,” said Director Kepler. “I can assure you of that. Not on my watch.”

Nikki unfolded her arms and relaxed. “I’m thinking some place cold, very cold.”

“Fargo, North Dakota,” Kameko suggested.

“Nah, the misery index isn’t high enough. I’m fond of Adak, Alaska, personally. It’s cold, desolate, and remote.”

Everyone erupted into laughter. Once it subsided, Kameko excused herself from the group and left the makeshift office. Director Kepler cleared his throat. “Agent Frank?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Since we’re all in a festive mood here, I have some additional good news for you.”

Nikki leaned forward against the table. “I’m all ears.”

“US Attorney Strickland has contacted the state’s Violent Offender Assessment committee on your behalf.”

“And?” Nikki’s hands began to tremble.

“Judge Anderson has waived the packet submission requirement and will allow you to see your brother unrestricted.”

Nikki slowly shook her head. “I can’t believe this is happening.” She gripped her left hand with her right hand in an effort to stop them from shaking. “Finally.”

“This,” Director Kepler continued, “is a small thank-you from the VOA committee for exposing the corruption festering at the Shaw Women’s Correctional Facility.”

Nikki loosened the grip on her hands and drew them back down to her side. For a moment, she sat motionless, trying to control her breathing and process everything. Director Kepler moved toward the office door. “There’s more.”

Nikki’s stomach tensed back up. “More?”

“Harlan,” he called.

Harlan removed his cell phone from his jacket and activated the direct-connect feature commonly used in dispatch radio systems. “Kameko, stand by. We’re en route.”

Director Kepler motioned for Nikki to follow him then led the way out into the warehouse. Once they were out of the office, Harlan took the lead. The trio quickly moved along several primary aisles, past low storage racks and pallets full of freight, and toward the shipping dock.

“Bay seventeen,” Harlan announced.

They continued moving forward, single file, until they reached the designated area. Harlan spoke into his cell phone again, and the steel door lifted. Nikki’s heart raced as the door inched up. She spotted a pair of silver-and-blue low-cut sneakers. A rush of excitement flooded through her. It was Marty. She knew it instantly, even without the door being fully raised.

Nikki bounced from foot to foot as the door crept higher. A mild tingling sensation churned inside her, causing a smile to pull at her lips. Finally, the door came to a stop. There stood Marty, holding Kameko’s hand, at the top of a ground-to-dockyard ramp.

“Neeka!” he called out, his voice cracking.

Tears welled up in Nikki’s eyes. “Right here, Martini.”

Marty let go of Kameko’s hand and bolted toward his sister. The two embraced. Nikki noticed her brother clutching an envelope. “What’s that?” she asked.

Marty smiled then whispered, “For you.”

Nikki let go of him and opened the envelope. Inside was a check made out to her for a sizable amount of money. Her jaw dropped. “I’ve never seen so many zeroes,” she said, shaking her head. “At least not in any check made out to me.”

Nikki turned to her colleagues for an explanation.

“Back pay,” Director Kepler offered. “For three years, six months, and nine days of incarceration, plus accumulated interest.”

Nikki’s face lit up. “With all the stuff going on, I totally for—”

“There’s more,” Harlan interrupted. “You’re hereby promoted to GS-13, effective immediately.”

Nikki clasped her hand to her mouth. For a moment she was speechless.

“The difference in pay,” Harlan continued, “has been calculated and is also reflected in the check you’re holding. You’ve sacrificed heavily for this program, and it’s time we started taking care of our own.”

Nikki was overwhelmed with emotion. She looked around at the faces of her colleagues, smiling as tears flowed down her cheeks. “Thank you, thank you,” she said.

Kameko approached her and gave her a warm, extended hug. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Agent Bolston,” Nikki replied.

“Kameko, please.”

“Kameko it is.” Before Nikki could say anything further, her brother tugged on her shirt. “Yes?” she said, directing her full attention toward him.

Marty pointed at the check in her hand. “What is it, Neeka?”

Nikki smiled. “Assurance that you, Chip, and Wally will continue to live together at Paris Oaks for a very long time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and that I can visit you as much as I want.”

Marty’s eyes grew big. “I’d love that.”

“Me too, Marty,” Nikki replied, hugging him again. “Me too.”