Polly Iyer - Diana Racine 03 - Backlash (25 page)

T
he
next morning, Diana entered Headquarters. Rickett must have pulled a few strings, because she passed through security without a hitch and made her way to the tech department wearing the pin with a tiny recording device attached to her blouse. No one stopped her. Some people actually smiled and bid her good morning. How many of them belonged to the FBI, tracking her every move? She saw the standard guy with the newspaper, a janitor, and a few more people at the information desk. Were they her guardian angels?

She reminded herself that she’d been an entertainer more than half her life. This was just another performance.

She half expected Hodge to be absent from his cubicle, but he was there. Surprise flashed across his face when he saw her.

“They’re sending in the second team, I see,” Hodge said. “What’s the matter, boyfriend using you to get information?”

She wanted to smack him. Boyfriend indeed. Hodge knew Lucier was in no condition to conduct an interrogation. “Lieutenant Lucier wouldn’t ask me to do that, at least not this morning. He’s otherwise occupied.”

Hodge’s jaw dropped, and his face turned red. He recovered quickly, but the change wasn’t lost on Diana. “I’m sure he’ll be speaking to you shortly. And when he does, Mr. Hodge ― is it mister, officer, or do you have a title?”

Hodge scowled. “I’m a Senior Digital Forensic Analyst, among other things. You can skip the small talk and tell me what you want.”

She softened her voice. “Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”

He led her into the stairwell.

She hoped her recorder picked up everything in the enclosed space.

“I want to make a deal,” she said. “Your life for the name of the vigilante-in-charge. Don’t deny your participation. Lieutenant Lucier knows you’re involved. He saw your eyes. Recognized them.”

Hodge was momentarily struck silent. As red as his face was moments before, his complexion now appeared bloodless.

“Vigilante? Where do you get that?”

“Let’s not play games, okay? I know, and you know I know.”

“If he’s so sure I’m a so-called vigilante, which is ridiculous, why isn’t he here to arrest me?”

“You know why. And for that reason, I honestly didn’t expect to see you here this morning. I thought you’d be joining Chenault and Alba, two cops who screwed up, just like you did yesterday. Have you been looking over your shoulder, Senior Digital Forensic Analyst Hodge? Bet you have.”

Hodge snorted. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Let me clarify.” She leaned against the wall, exhibiting as much confidence as she could muster. “I know what went on because when I touched Lucier this morning, I saw you and the other guy, Michel. Ernie’s team doesn’t know yet, but when Ernie is lucid, he’ll make sure one of them is here with handcuffs. But he’s not lucid, yet. Frankly, I hate you for that with all my heart, and I’d like nothing more than to see you dead. But I want something else more: the name of your boss.”

Hodge barred his arms across his chest and studied her. “Why isn’t your boyfriend lucid?”

“This isn’t a game, Hodge. I’m offering you a way out, with your life. You don’t have long to make up your mind.”

“You’re offering ―” He stopped and laughed. “And you saw all this in a vision? That’ll go over big in court.”

She wouldn’t let him get her goat. Control. It was all about control. She reached out and clasped his arm, taking an extra moment for effect. He didn’t know she saw nothing that meant anything. “You forget who I am, but that won’t matter, because you won’t make it to court. We’ll make sure your vigilante boss knows you’re going to rat him out. Hell, you might not make it out of the building today.”

“That’s bull. He wouldn’t ―”

Gotcha
. “Who wouldn’t, and what wouldn’t he do?”

Hodge clamped his mouth shut.

“I’m offering you a way out. Six hours head start. I wouldn’t bother telling your wife either, if I were you. When news of your escapades with Denise Garcia comes out, she’ll turn on you like a boomerang, like all the rest. And
Mrs
. Garcia? She won’t get stuck alibiing murders and a kidnapping. A divorce is nothing compared to life in prison for accessory after the fact. Six hours. You can get your money, pack a few things, and be gone, but I want the name first.”

“Forget it. I haven’t done anything wrong. No one will come after me. So tell your boys to arrest me.”

Diana held in her frustration. She really thought he’d go for the deal. “O-kay. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Damn, damn,” she muttered as she took the stairs to the main floor. With every step she second-guessed herself. Could she have presented the deal better? Why didn’t he accept? She felt eyes watching her when she left Headquarters and walked into the morning sunlight. Rickett had promised she’d be protected. She got to her car and called him. “You heard?”

“I heard.”

“I thought I had him, but he refused to bite.”

“You did good. You almost got him. He’s screwed either way, and he knows it. Either he takes the deal, which he has to know wasn’t made with the best intentions, or he takes the chance his boss won’t kill him. We have to make our deal look better than the alternative.”

“How do you do that?”

“We up the ante.”

“What does that mean?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Yes, I do. I’ve just put myself on the line and offered a deal which you now say you wouldn’t keep even if he’d taken it.”

“Diana, did you actually think we’d let him walk? Would the lieutenant?”

Hodge was a killer, and he drugged Lucier. Why would she think the feds or the NOPD would let him get away with that?

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“There’s little honor when you’re dealing with zealots. Don’t forget what he did to your lieutenant and what he tried to do to a kid. Not to mention the attack on your life. Oh, and remember what turned us on to him in the first place. How many dead bodies did he exact revenge upon before we noticed the pattern? The real world’s nasty and dirty. Park your ethics if you want to see justice done.”

“Okay, you’re right. Do what you have to do.”

“Never a question in my mind. My man will follow you to your meeting with the team. I’ll tell Beecher to make sure someone stays with you. You’re even more a target now.” He cut the call.

“Great. Thanks, Rickett.”

Whatever Rickett had in mind, she hoped he succeeded before the boss, whoever he was, took Hodge out of the equation.

R
ickett
made sure he wasn’t followed to the safe house where Walt Starr handheld Lucier through the worst stages of withdrawal. Walt looked tired.

“How’s he doing?” Rickett asked.

“’Bout like you’d expect. Day two is a bitch. Day three will be easier for him than for someone kicking a long-time habit.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“He keeps asking about the Racine woman. I was surprised. I thought she’d be the last thing on his mind, but she’s not. They must have one hell of a bond.”

“She went through a bad time with that serial killer, and he was with her every step of the way. So, yeah, they have a history. Did he say he wanted to see her?”

“I asked him. He peppered me with questions about what he’d go through next. When I told him the third day might be worse, he said he’d think about it. He’s a tough guy. Even though he feels like shit, he’s been doing sit-ups and push-ups.”

“What are you giving him?”

“A few other over-the-counter remedies: Nyquil, Imodium, Tagamet. Once he’s done, he’s done, and we don’t have to worry about getting him off something else. Withdrawal is a bitch, plain and simple.”

“You ought to know.”

“He’ll have it a lot easier.”

“You’re one of my heroes, Walt. Really.”

Walt shrugged off Rickett’s compliment. “You want to see him? Now’s a good time. It won’t last long.”

“Yeah. I don’t have much time anyway before I have to turn into Rickett.”

“He’s in the living room. He’s got full run of the house and yard. After all, he’s the victim here, not a prisoner. Go on in.”

Rickett entered the suite of rooms that included a kitchen and full bath. Lucier sat in a leather recliner, a glass of what looked like grapefruit juice on a side table. He appeared to be sleeping, but he said, “Rickett or Kohl, whatever the name is today. Who’d’ve guessed you’d be my rescuer. I had you pegged for one of the bad guys.”

“Rickett, always Rickett. How’re ya doing?” Lucier opened his eyes, and Rickett knew he’d asked a stupid question. The cop’s beard had sprouted with threads of gray, and his eyes, though better than when he arrived, still looked sunken and heavy. Sweat beaded on his face. “Never mind.”

“You got about five minutes before I start shaking or shivering or cramping or heaving.” Lucier shuddered. “Maybe three minutes.”

“We’re gonna get these bastards, Lucier. And we’re gonna fry their asses.”

“How’d you find me yesterday?”

“I followed Hodge. Did Walt explain we’d been on the case for a few months?”

Lucier nodded. “Yeah. I sure wish someone had clued us in. We could have worked together.”

“We didn’t know who we could trust. Not until your investigation hit the newspaper did we realized we had competition.”

Lucier aimed his empty stare at Rickett. “We aren’t competition, Rickett, or should I say Agent Kohl. We’re on the same team.”

“Yeah, I know that now.”

“You could have checked me out with Ralph Stallings from the New Orleans field office.”

“I would have if I’d known you were working on the case. From my point of view, the fewer people who knew about my undercover work, the better. Stallings didn’t know.”

Nodding, Lucier said, “How’s Diana?”

“Distraught, about you. She’s something, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” Lucier expelled a barely audible laugh, along with another shiver. “Watch out for her. She’s sneaky. She’ll talk you into doing something crazy, like taking a stupid risk or putting herself in harm’s way. She’s very convincing.”

When Rickett didn’t say anything, Lucier sat erect. “She didn’t, did she? You better not have let her ―”

“She’s fine.”

“I don’t believe you. What did she convince you to let her do? Never mind. I don’t want to know. But know this before I disappear into the bathroom.― if anything happens to her, I’ll hold you personally responsible. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Lucier clutched at his stomach and launched out of the chair to make a beeline for the bathroom. Rickett heard the sounds of a man in the throes of withdrawal.

Walt was sitting at his desk, going over some papers. Rickett said, “He probably needs you right about now for a dose of whatever. I’m off to play my role and get the fuckers who did that to him, and I will have no mercy.”

“Give the bastards one for me,” Walt said.

* * * * *

D
iana
saw her tail in the rear view mirror.
Thank you, Rickett
. She pulled into her driveway, where Beecher, Halloran, and Cash waited.

“He didn’t bite, guys,” Diana said, getting out of her car. “I thought I had him, but he backed out.”

“Damn,” Beecher said. “I wanted to close this out.”

“Me too,” Cash said. “I thought for sure he’d go for a clean getaway. Damn.”

A cruiser pulled in behind Diana. “Here’s your protection,” Halloran said. He squinted at the figure getting out of the police car. “Cantrell. He’s a good cop.”

“He followed me from Headquarters, per Rickett’s orders, I guess.”

Halloran went to meet Cantrell and brought him inside the house.

“At least you didn’t have to do anything more to put your life in danger,” Beecher said.

“I’m really worried about the lieutenant,” Cash said.

“We all are, Willy,” Beecher said.

After some small talk, the three detectives left.

Diana put on a pot of coffee. “I appreciate your guarding me, Officer Cantrell. Just make yourself at home. Coffee and sugar are next to the pot. Cream’s in the fridge. If you don’t mind, I’ll go into my office for a while.”

“I’ll be fine, ma’am. You do what you have to do.”

Disappointed that the plan had failed, she opened her computer. Curiosity drew her to sites on substance abuse withdrawal. She cried as she read, knowing in her heart she should be with Lucier, to comfort and console him while he went through the worst. Rickett had nixed that, and for once, she would follow directions. She could only imagine Lucier’s pain, but she wanted to feel it herself, in her own body.

Unable to concentrate, she went into her bedroom. She was exhausted. She lay atop the bed, and within minutes, she fell asleep.

* * * * *

P
atience
was one of Rickett’s strengths. He went home, got a good night’s sleep, and rose before dawn. He drove to the hilly area behind Hodge’s house. One car sat in the driveway. He hoped that meant Hodge’s wife and kids weren’t home, but if they were, that was too bad. The houses on the street were quiet. Too early for the school kids or people rushing off to work. He opened the trunk of his car and pulled out his sniper rifle. Marksmanship was another of Rickett’s strengths. As a former Navy SEAL, he had many, but shooting was at the top of the list. He got into position on the ground.

He waited.

And waited.

At six fifteen, Hodge came out of his house. All the years of training, and Rickett could pop the son of a bitch right now, and no one would be the wiser. But that’s not what he intended to do.

Hodge inserted the key in the deadbolt, and Rickett took his shot.

He got close, but he missed.

Perfect
.

Hodge ran back into his house with speed he probably hadn’t used in years. Rickett packed up his rifle and took off.

* * * * *

D
iana’s
cell phone vibrated on her bedside table, waking her from a deep sleep. Hoping it was Lucier, she checked the readout. Unknown Number. She answered anyway and heard Hodge’s trembling voice.

“I’m ready to make a deal.”