My Spy: Last Spy Standing (11 page)

“I have to stay with her,” she said in a low tone. “Could you go downstairs and check out what’s going on? There’s an address book in the top drawer of the TV stand. Could you bring that up? I want to be the one to call Eleanor’s brother.”

He nodded. “We’re going to talk about this. It’s gone too far. I’m going to upgrade your security.” She might not want his kisses, but she would have his protection. He had a team. They each could spare a few hours here and there. Starting with him.

She didn’t protest. A good thing, because no way was she going to talk him out of this.

* * *

“D
OES
IT
HURT
?” Katie asked.

Bree knew what she meant. “She’s not hurting. It’s not like when you cut your finger. There’s no pain at all in death.”

“She has blood. When I cut my finger, it bleeds and it hurts.”

“Only when you’re still alive.”

“She’s dead.”

“Yes, she is, honey.”

“Why?”

The question was killing her.
Jason Tanner.
It had to be him. And if he’d been the one to shoot that gun, then she’d been the target. She’d underestimated him, underestimated the danger he posed. But she wouldn’t do that again. She was going to bring the little bastard in.

Sitting inside while other officers processed the destruction outside her house had been difficult the other day. Sitting up here while they processed the crime scene downstairs was nearly impossible. She was a cop, had been a cop for a long time. Everything she was pushed her to go, to hunt, to bring in the man who’d done this.

“Where did Eleanor go?” Katie asked. “The window broke and then she fell down. And then she wasn’t there.”

No, not in the lifeless body, Bree thought. Katie had always been very perceptive about things like that. Looked like the shooter had pulled up to the front and shot Eleanor from his car. An easy distance, and she’d been standing in a lit room.

“She went someplace else,” she told her sister.

“I don’t want her to go someplace else.”

“Me, neither,” she said and blinked back tears. “Do you want to turn on the TV?” She wanted to give her sister something else to think about. Katie wasn’t good with emotions. Grief was hard for her to grapple with. It would take a long time and a lot of talking, a lot of getting used to.

“We don’t watch TV now.”

No. Their favorite shows weren’t on until later. “Maybe we’ll catch a rerun. Something good.”

“Okay.”

She turned on the TV and found a repeat episode of
Bones.
Katie liked that. Bree wanted to hug her sister, wanted to be hugged in return. She’d almost run into Jamie’s arms earlier, would have done it, but he’d held himself so obviously aloof.

She’d been the one to push him away.

And yet, the fact that he didn’t pull her into his arms still hurt. The exact kind of unreasonable female logic she always hated. She wasn’t a drama queen. She was a deputy sheriff. She was strong and capable. Because she’d always had to be strong and capable for her sister.

But just now, some emotional support would have been great.

A small part of her honestly regretted pushing Jamie away.

Maybe Eleanor had been right and she saw things too much in black-and-white, at least when it came to her private life. Just because her life wasn’t optimal for a long-term relationship, maybe it didn’t mean that she couldn’t have anything.

Except it did. Because she wasn’t the one-night-stand type. When she fell for someone, she fell completely, which always ended up in heartbreak.

She’d accepted that. Accepted that she would give relationships up.

But it hadn’t hurt so much until today.

Jamie popped his head in, address book in hand. He handed it over. “Why don’t you go take care of what you need to. I’m beat. I wouldn’t mind sitting for a sec.” He glanced at the TV. “Hey, that’s my favorite show,” he told Katie. “Mind if I watch?”

Katie shook her head seriously, and Jamie dropped to the floor in the middle of the room. He was alpha male, a warrior, a doer, the kind of man who would always be first in the line of fire and liked it that way. Yet he understood what she needed, that she needed to be there to handle this. And he pulled back so she could have it.

She moved toward the door. “Thanks.” And then she left, secure in the knowledge that whatever she found downstairs, whatever else happened, nothing would get through Jamie to get to her sister.

Chapter Ten

Agent Herrera was waiting in her office when Bree walked in on Monday after she’d dropped Katie off at work.

“Heard you had trouble at home. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” the agent said.

“I appreciate it. Get anything out of Garret about the fake twenty?”

He shrugged. “He got the money at a gas station. It checks out.” He scratched his jaw. “But Angel Rivera will be a decent lead, it looks like. He’s actually involved, as opposed to coming into connection with the bills unwittingly.”

“Did the hospital release him yet?”

“He’ll be released in an hour or so. I’m taking him into custody and back to Washington.”

“Hope he’ll be more forthcoming with you than he was with me.”

“He’ll talk. If nothing else than for a deal. We got enough on him to put him away for a while. Found a couple of dozen counterfeit bills at his place this morning. Search warrant came through, finally.”

“So are the bills from an old print run, just turning up now?”

He shook his head. “New. High-tech paper and ink. We’ll definitely be tracking that. I expect we’ll find a serious operation.”

“Any clues so far? Are bills showing up anyplace else?” She really didn’t want any of this connected to her town. The last thing she needed was the CIA descending in large numbers.

“I just got a call about similar bills showing up in Arizona and New York. That’s why I’m heading back to the main office. I’ll be putting together a task force and widening the investigation.”

“Did you find out how Angel Rivera is connected?”

“Not yet. But Rivera works in transportation. He drives a truck for a produce distributor that brings up truckloads of fruit from Mexico. His routes are all over the South and up the Eastern seaboard.”

“So the origin of the money could be south of the border?” Honestly, as long as it wasn’t her county, she’d be happy.

But the agent shook his head. “Could be, but unlikely. The technology on these notes is pretty amazing. It’s not some handmade printing machine some Mexican farmer threw together from spare parts in his shed.”

“There’s a paper mill south of the border, not far from here,” she told him.

“We’ll investigate that to be on the safe side, but this looks like something we usually see from even farther south.”

“You mean South America?”

He gave a brief nod. “I’m looking into that. I’ll be in touch. I just wanted to come in to thank you for your help. And ask for one more favor.”

She waited.

“Angel Rivera has a brother in prison down here. He went in just a few weeks ago on drug charges. He used to work for the same shipping company. Any chance you could look in on him? See if you can push him into admitting to being involved? He’s locked up. He’ll be more motivated to talk. Maybe in exchange for a reduced sentence. Let me know if you get anything from him.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets in a frustrated gesture. “I don’t want to wait around, setting up an appointment with the prison when his lawyers can be present and all that. I want to get moving with this. Putting together a task force will take time and paperwork, approvals. I need to be back at the office and set up a serious op. We need to find the source of the money and stop it.”

She could certainly understand that. “No problem.”

“Even if the younger Rivera doesn’t talk, we might be able to use him to soften Angel up a little. Maybe the older brother will give us something in exchange for a promise to make his little brother’s life behind bars easier. Prison is a risky place for gangbangers. Not all who go in come out.”

She nodded, thinking of the prison hit Jamie was investigating.

“I appreciate the help. We’ll keep in touch.” Agent Herrera walked to the door of her office, but then turned back before opening it. He watched her for a second before he said, “The other day, I was leaving here when a man was coming in. Is it possible he was Jamie Cassidy?”

Okay, she hadn’t expected that question. “You know Jamie?”

“What’s he doing here?”

“Consulting for CBP. How do you know him?”

“I was involved in one of his other consulting gigs,” he said after a couple of thoughtful seconds.

She had a fair idea what that might have been. “At a time you can’t specify, at an undisclosed location, on a mission of indeterminate nature?”

A smile hovered over the agent’s lips. “Something like that.”

“Was that where he lost his legs?”

The agent shook his head. “He had them there, and put them to good use. It’s good to see him back in action. He was the hero of the day.”

“Hero, how?”

“I’m sorry. That’s confidential information.”

“In generalities? I’m assisting his team with something. He’s my liaison. I’d like to know what kind of man he is.”

He still hesitated for a long second. “Without any specifics... There were bad guys and they land mined a whole village. Jamie’s team moved in, at night....” He shook his head. “He was the rear guard. When his teammates were blown up, he rushed in, under heavy gunfire, and dragged them out one by one. He kept going back and getting hit. He didn’t stop until he bled out to the point of falling unconscious in the middle of the village. But he got everyone out who could be saved.”

She wondered who had saved him. Maybe reinforcements came. She wanted to ask more, but the agent lifted his hand to cut her off.

“This stays between the two of us.”

And Bree nodded. “So you don’t know how he lost his legs?”

“Not a clue,” the agent said. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if he threw himself on a grenade.” And then he left to go about his business.

She sat behind her desk, thinking for a while about Jamie, about the kind of work he did. Then she set that aside and made a note to figure out what prison the younger Rivera was vacationing at presently. She was going to call his lawyer and see about an appointment to visit later. But first she needed to find Jason Tanner.

Eleanor was dead. Jason couldn’t be allowed to hurt anyone else ever again.

She hadn’t taken him as seriously as she should have. Her mistake. But she wasn’t going to make another with the man. She was going to use every tool at her disposal, call in every favor, track every lead until she found him and put him away.

* * *

J
AMIE
LOOKED
THROUGH
the database of images he’d been granted temporary access to that morning. Bree had an APB out on Jason Tanner and his red pickup truck, but Jamie had something better: access to military satellites.

No way in hell was he going to let the bastard get within striking distance of Bree again. Jamie needed to track him to his lair.

Jason would be staying somewhere close enough to swing by to see Bree, but not in town where Bree could run into him. Jamie made the whole south part of the county his target. The satellite identified ninety-six images of pickups the color, make and model Tanner was driving, information Eleanor had given the police after the vandalism on the front lawn.

Jason would be holed up in a motel, most likely, so Jamie went after those. He identified seven matching vehicles in motel parking lots and printed the list of addresses.

“I’m off to check on something,” he called out to the office in general as he stood from his desk.

Keith and Mo were on office duty, the rest of the team out on the border or following leads.

Mo looked up. “For the deputy?”

Jamie nodded.

“Let us know if we can help,” Keith put in, no teasing this time.

They’d all sworn to protect and serve, and the hit on defenseless women didn’t sit well with them.

“I appreciate it.” He walked out and made his way to his car. He had hours before he had to go back on duty again. Plenty of time to check the addresses on his list.

He first went to the nearest motel he had marked, drove around it, found a red pickup like the one he wanted in the back, but it wasn’t Tanner’s. This one didn’t have a scratch on it.

He was looking for one that had a smashed-in front grill, at least. Those unicorn statues had to have left their mark.

The next address didn’t pan out, either. The next after that didn’t have a red pickup. Whoever had it might have moved on already.

Jamie made note of that. He would come back if none of the others panned out. For now, he just wanted to do a quick rundown on his list.

He found what he was looking for at the Singing Sombreros Lodge half an hour later. Grill busted, hood dusty, the pickup was hidden in a narrow place between the lodge’s two main buildings, parked with its back to the road so the damage in the front wouldn’t be easily seen.

Jamie walked around it, tested the door, found it locked. He looked through the window. Nothing incriminating in sight. He could see nothing on the seats beyond fast-food bags and empty beer cans. He left the pickup and walked into the lobby of the main building, flashed his CBP badge.

“Do you have a Jason Tanner registered?”

The clerk, an older man, bald with a Santa Claus beard, scanned the computer screen. He had an antique banjo hanging on the wall behind him. “I’m sorry. I don’t see anyone with that name listed.”

“Do you know who has the red pickup?”

He frowned. “Some young guy.” He looked at his log. “Wait a minute. John Tansey. Here it is. I keep telling him to park that pickup in the lot where it should go. He doesn’t listen.”

“Room number?”

“Is he in trouble?”

“Yes, he is.”

“The guy’s having a bad week, I guess. He hit a deer day before yesterday. Banged that nice truck right up. Didn’t even save the deer. He’s traveling, I suppose. Still, other people would have been happy to take all that venison off his hands. Don’t like no waste.” He shook his head mournfully. “Room sixty-eight.”

“Appreciate it.” Jamie looked down the hallway. “Place is full?” He didn’t think so, judging by the handful of cars in the lot, but better to double-check. He didn’t want anyone getting hurt. It’d be easier for him if the lodge was mostly deserted.

The old man shook his head. “Rodeo crowd cleared out yesterday.”

Jamie thanked him again then walked down the hallway toward room sixty-eight. He checked his weapon before he knocked. No response came, but he did hear movement in there, a chair scraping.

“Open up. Customs and Border Protection.”

He heard the window open inside. “Put your hands in the air! I’m coming in.” Gun in hand, he kicked the door in and caught a flash of a man’s back as he jumped out the window.

Jamie dashed across the room and jumped after him. He landed in some landscaping done with stones and cacti, his prosthetics unable to balance on the uneven ground with gravel rolling under his boots. He went down, but was up the next second.

Still, the time wasted added to Jason’s lead. He’d already made his way to his pickup and was behind the wheel and driving away, nearly running over Jamie as he ran in front of the car instead of taking a shot at it. He wanted this done without a fatality if he could help it. He and his team were supposed to keep a low profile.

He dove out of the way, rolled and jumped up and ran for his own car. He’d left it unlocked and the keys in the ignition just in case, which came in handy now. He was behind the wheel and after the man within a minute.

The lodge was on the edge of one of the dozens of small towns north of Hullett, the traffic sparse, a straight country road ahead of them. Tanner would have nowhere to go to get out of sight, nowhere to hide. It didn’t stop him from running.

The red pickup sped up, sixty-five, seventy, seventy-five, eighty. Jamie kept pace. They were up to ninety-five in another few minutes, Jason running cars that were in his way off the road.

Okay, he was putting other people’s lives at risk now. Jamie pulled out his weapon, but didn’t aim it at the back of Jason’s head.

Even if he wasn’t trying to keep a low profile, he only killed if it was an absolute necessity. Tanner wasn’t a trained soldier; he wasn’t a terrorist. He was a stalker with a mental disability. Catching him would take more work than simply taking him out, but Jamie wanted to give that a go first.

He waited until they came to a stretch of highway that was for the moment deserted save the two of them, then shot out the pickup’s back tire.

The vehicle spun almost immediately, went off the road, swerved all around, kicking up a dust cloud as it ran one wheel up a sizable rock that helped to flip it on its side, the tires still spinning as the pickup stopped at last.

Jamie ran his own SUV off the road and circled back, stopped a hundred feet or so from the wreck and got out, keeping his car between him and Jason until he measured up the situation. Jason had to be considered armed and dangerous.

“Come out with your hands in the air!” he called out.

Nothing happened.

“Customs and Border Protection. Come out with your hands in the air, Jason.”

But once again, Jason didn’t stir. As the dust settled, Jamie moved forward carefully, keeping his weapon aimed at the pickup, watching the cab and the driver’s-side door that now pointed skyward, the only possible exit point.

He went around until he could look in the front window. Jason lay flopped over, blood on his forehead. The smell of gasoline filled the air.

The ignition had to be shut off and fast.

Jamie rushed forward, but climbing up the pickup wasn’t easy. A long minute passed before he made it up on top. Then he needed both hands to pull the heavy door open, against gravity, seconds passing by during which the both of them could have been sent sky-high by an explosion.

He reached in and turned off the engine first before grabbing for the man. He got hold of an arm and started hauling him up. This was where legs that felt could have come in handy. Finding leverage was difficult like this, on a surface that was uneven, unstable and slippery.

“Come on. Wake up and push, dammit.” He gritted his teeth and pulled as hard as he could.

He’d had to decide at one point, after the depression, after he’d fought his demons, that he wasn’t going to let anything stop him, and he wouldn’t now. Not even when Jason’s shirt ripped and Jamie lost balance and fell back off the pickup, the fall rattling his tall frame and knocking the air right out of him.