Punish the Deed (13 page)

Twenty-Five

Lucinda jerked away from the curb, nearly sideswiping the police vehicle parked in front of her. She stopped the car. Already angry, Lucinda’s outrage soared when she was forced to acknowledge that her monocular vision was even less reliable when she was ticked off. She knew, though, that she could not let her emotions overtake the lessons she’d learned in her visual therapy sessions. She suppressed the ire she felt at the FBI, her captain and her limitations for the time being.

She ignored the screaming voice in the back of her mind as she navigated the streets back to the station. But it was persistent. Echoes of creative scatological commentary made her grin as she imagined saying them out loud. At last, she was safely parked and able to give rein to her angry thoughts. When she was on foot, she could trust her subconscious mind to make the necessary depth adjustments to the flat aspect she perceived through her one eye.

She strode into Captain Holland’s office, kicked the leg of a chair in front of his desk, angling it in her direction. The captain raised an eyebrow but did not acknowledge her presence. She threw herself into the seat, crossed her legs, folded her arms and said, “No.”

Holland looked at her, sighed and said, “Yes.”

“Damn it, Captain, this is my case. I’ve got leads. I’m working them. Why do I need to make room for the Feebs?”

“Pierce, don’t you think the FBI might have some information or assets that would help further your investigation?”

“Captain, the FBI doesn’t share information; they take it.”

“You need to work with them on this, Pierce.”

“Oh, they want another joke task force?”

“Pierce, Joint Task Force.”

“Captain, you know it’s a joke. Investigators from local jurisdictions do all the leg work. We’re on the ground asking the questions, building the case, dealing with victims’ families. Then the FBI butts in, takes all our work, and announces victory – their victory. And in the meantime, they usually alienate half our witnesses and make the D.A. crazy because they don’t want to share with that office either.”

“Are you done, Pierce?”

Lucinda rolled her eyes, turned her face away from his and expelled a noisy blast of air.

Holland continued. “You need to go home, pack your bags and head up to D.C. this afternoon.”

“Oh, no, Captain. You’ve got to be kidding.”

“They asked for you, Lieutenant. They want you, specifically.”

“Why? They need someone to blame and I have all the makings of a good fall guy?”

“No, Pierce. They heard about your work on the Prescott case and were impressed with it.”

“Impressed? Oh sure. I did such a good job of following precise, book-delineated procedure on that one. You know how anal they are, Captain.”

“Strictly following procedure would have cost an innocent’s life. You did what needed to be done. Period. And right now, you need to head to D.C.”

“I’m sure I’ll make a pretty good scapegoat for the bureau, Captain, but I’m not so sure why
you
want to sacrifice me.”

“That’s not it, Pierce. In fact, what I’m doing here is trying to save your ungrateful ass.”

“What does that mean?” Lucinda demanded.

“I wasn’t going to mention this because I know how political games and inter-agency maneuvering make you bat shit, but here goes. Did you hear about the shooting down in Pulaski over the weekend?”

“The deputy who shot two innocent bystanders?”

“Yes. The deputy, who lost an eye a month earlier.”

“Listen, Captain. That is no reflection on me. I was a desk jockey for much longer than a month. I re-qualified on the shooting range. I’ve gotten so good now that the guys down there would start calling me “Dead Eye Pierce” again if they weren’t afraid of pissing me off. What therapy did that deputy have? What work did he do on the range before going out in the field again? He might have been a risk but I am not.”

“You are completely right, Pierce. I know your ability. I know your skill. I trust you in the field. But sometimes in the political world, none of the facts matter.”

“What are you telling me, Captain?”

“I really need you out of town right now, Pierce.”

“Why?”

“The mayor contacted the chief and the commissioners after the Pulaski story hit the news. They want a review of our department’s monocular policies. The mayor doesn’t think we should have any officers like you in the field.”

“Damn it, Captain. We’ve been through this before,” Lucinda objected.

“And this probably won’t be the last time, Pierce. Hey, I’m on your side here. I want to keep you out there working cases. That’s a big reason why I want you to go to D.C. When I talk to the mayor’s exploratory panel, I want to be able to say that you are out on loan to the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I want to tell them that the federal government has you working in the field on their special request. I want to ask them, if the FBI thinks our monocular investigator is a valuable asset in the field, why, in heaven’s name, wouldn’t we want to keep her working here?”

Lucinda shook her head in disgust and defeat. “Damn it, Captain.”

“I know, Pierce.”

“I hate the Feebs.”

“I know, Pierce.”

Lucinda sighed. “Okay, then. Why do they want me? And why do they want me up there? I’ve got a case down here.”

“They’ve got a note.”

Lucinda uncrossed her limbs and scooted forward in her chair. “The same note?”

Captain Holland nodded. “Someone used block letters to print out ‘I was left behind’ on a notepad left at the scene of the abduction.”

“Abduction? He took the victim away from the scene? Where? Have they found the body? Gotten a ransom note?”

“Yes, he snatched the victim from a parking lot behind his office. They are hoping to find the victim still alive. That’s why the urgency to have you on the team as soon as possible.”

“Okay, that makes sense.” Lucinda said as she popped to her feet. “Ted is up to date on the status of our local case. Have him call me if he gets stuck or needs to bounce something off of me. I’m outta here.”

“Wait, Lucinda. They don’t want you at headquarters; here are the directions to the metropolitan office,” Captain Holland said as he stood and held out a sheet of paper. “When you get there ask for Special Agent Jake Lovett.”

“Oh, I bet he’s real special,” Lucinda sneered.

“Hey, Pierce, try not to alienate the guy on the first day.”

“I’ll teach him the real meaning of ‘special.’”

“C’mon, Pierce.”

Lucinda laughed. “Lighten up, Captain. A little hostility can be very motivating.”

Twenty-Six

Lucinda made the three-hour drive up Interstate 95 toward the nation’s capital. Even though she hit the city after normal business hours she knew the FBI agent would be waiting in his office for her arrival.
Special Agent Jake Lovett.
Just why do they put “special” at the front of their names? Insecurity? Arrogance? A combination of the two?
As she pulled into the downtown parking garage by the Judiciary Center, Lucinda vowed to focus on the missing man, not on her unfortunate choice of partners in the case.

When she entered the office, the secretary-receptionist did a double take when she looked up at Lucinda’s face, causing the detective to sigh.
Another reason why I don’t want to be here.
She smiled at the woman and asked for Jake Lovett.

“Special Agent Jake Lovett?” she asked.

The bureaucratic hang-up with titles made Lucinda want to sneer and make a smart-ass remark but she kept her expression blank as she nodded and said, “Yes.”

Lovett emerged in less than a minute and escorted her back to his work area. Lucinda’s first reaction was surprise at how young the agent looked. Her second one was relief that Lovett had done his homework. He obviously did know who she was because he showed no sign of surprise when he looked at her face. And he looked her right in the eye without hesitation.
That’s one point for the junior G-man.

“I am really happy to have you on our team, Lieutenant Pierce.”

“So, tell me why I’m here.”

“Looks like a serial. While you were on the road, I spoke with Sergeant Ted Branson and he shared the information the two of you have found. By the way, a couple of the questionable cases you were considering have now developed into positive links. Right now, we’re looking at five connected cases with more possibles. The uncertainty in some is that if a note was there, no one thought to collect it as evidence.”

“As you can tell from Branson’s information, we were making good progress down there. So why am I here?”

“Because of Michael Agnew, our abduction victim. Because you’re smart. You’re intuitive. And you are willing to do what needs to be done to save an innocent person’s life.”

“Ah. Got it. I’ll break rules when necessary. So you call me in to do that so you won’t have to. Smooooth. Special A-Gent Love-it.”

“Hey, come on, have a seat and let’s talk this out,” Jake said, gesturing to a chair. “For starters, call me Jake. Secondly, look at me. Do I look like a cut-from-the-mold-FBI-guy to you?” Jake held his arms straight out from his shoulders and crossed one Chuck-clad ankle over the other.

Lucinda took in his unorthodox hair length and his bright red high-top Chucks and decided it just might be possible to work with this guy, after all. “Like the shoes, Jake,” Lucinda said with a grin. “But what’s being done to locate Michael Agnew?”

Jake twisted an ankle coyly in the air. “Got a closet full of them – every color you can imagine, except pink – I draw the line at pink.” He slid into a seat next to Lucinda. “As for Agnew – we’ve issued a multi-state bulletin with photos and a description of the vehicle and of Agnew to all law enforcement jurisdictions. We’ve canvassed the area around the abduction site several times. A few people saw Agnew drive out of the parking lot in his vehicle but no one saw another passenger. Tomorrow morning, we’re sending a helicopter up to do an aerial reconnaissance to see if we can locate his vehicle tucked away somewhere. Of course, if it’s abandoned in the area, that doesn’t bode well for Agnew.”

“What can I do?” Lucinda asked.

“I thought you might want to review my case file and ask questions. I’d appreciate insight or even stray thoughts on our two connected homicides – so feel free to think out loud. Any theories on the meaning of the note?”

“’I was left behind?’”

“Yeah, is he a military guy left behind enemy lines during some conflict or another? Our victim has a background with the Marines but the other linked crimes seem to be missing that kind of armed forces connection.”

“I hadn’t thought of that angle but I rather thought it had something to do with the presidential slogan, ‘No child left behind.’ I’m surprised that didn’t pop up in your mind with you being here in D.C. and all. But every one of the victims we’ve identified worked for an agency that helps children.”

“So you think he’s getting revenge because no one helped him as a kid.”

“No. That may be what he wants us to believe but I think he’s a rage-filled sociopath who is using the excuse of a bad childhood to do what he wants to get his kicks. It’s kind of ironic that this guy is killing off the very people that would be most likely to make excuses for his violent behaviour.”

Jake nodded and grinned. “Listen, I need to level with you about the politics here. If you’re right, and this is a reflection on the administration’s policy, even indirectly, there could be fall-out. I am not the favorite agent of the Assistant Director in Charge and because of that you could get caught in the crossfire. I’ll do what I can to shelter you from the bureau’s bull crap, but you might find yourself suddenly jerked out of here and sent home through no fault of your own.”

“This doesn’t surprise me, Lovett. I figured I was brought in here to take the fall when things go wrong. I’m sure I’ll make a good scapegoat for you and save your career from disaster.”

“Wrong, Pierce. I didn’t bring you here to serve as my fall guy. I did it because I think you’ll be an asset to my investigation. I fought to have you here because I thought your involvement could make a difference.”

“Right, Lovett. Like how dumb do I look? I know how you Feebs work and I have agreed to come up here and play sacrificial lamb.”

Jake popped to his feet and leaned down toward Lucinda. “I don’t want your sacrifice. I want your help. I need someone whose thinking is not shaped by the academy. I need an independent, intuitive thinker. I need you.”

Lucinda stood up in his face, her finger poking toward Jake’s eyes. “Right, right, right. You’ll go along with any of my hare-brained theories. If you get lucky and I’m right, they’ll suddenly become your theories. If I’m wrong, you can point to me and say, ‘Man, that woman was a real wack-job.’ Either way, you win. I’m willing to play that game because right now it fits into my purposes to be here.”

“And just why do you hate the bureau so much?”

“It’s not the bureau. It’s the people who work for it.”

“The bureau is its people. What’s wrong with us? What’s wrong with me?”

“You are a bunch of arrogant, self-righteous, spineless users.”

Jake slumped down into his chair, placed the fingertips of both hands on his chest. “Me?” He gazed up at her with a forlorn expression, his hazel eyes turning nearly brown.

Lucinda put her hands on her hips and turned her back. She dared not speak until she calmed her breath and snuffed out the spark of unbidden attraction that arose, causing a lump to form in her throat when she looked into the warmth of his eyes. When she did open her mouth, her voice cracked. “You can’t help it. You’re a Feeb.”

“Work with me, Lieutenant. Not for me. Not for the bureau. But for the victim who needs you. Help me bring Michael Agnew home.”

“Do you really think he is still alive?” Lucinda said without turning around.

“I don’t know. But I do know that regardless of whether or not he survived the abduction, his family needs us to find him. Come, sit down, talk to me. Let’s make a plan of action for tomorrow. Then I’ll take you to your hotel room for a good night’s sleep.”

She inhaled and exhaled deeply then made a slow turn and returned to the chair. “Okay, Jake. What do I need to know about your victim and your abduction scene?”

Jake outlined what he knew, answered her questions and then she ran down the Fleming homicide for him. “I suppose you recovered no fingerprints?” he asked.

“Every one we got connected to a known employee or were too indistinct to be usable. How about you? Did you find any on the notepad or the checks?”

“I don’t suspect that the perp ever touched those checks and all we found on the notepad were the victim’s prints and a few smears over prints that indicated he wore gloves. Ted said that you’ve got a missing suspect.”

“Only if you use the word “suspect” loosely,” Lucinda said, then ran down the situation with Steve Broderick.

“That all sounds pretty suspicious to me,” Jake said. “Why are you so cool on the possibility that he’s the perp?”

“It’s a combination of things really. Nobody that knows him thinks he’s capable of an act of violence – not even Trivolli up in Maine.”

“But . . .”

“Yeah, I know. Sometimes the worst sociopaths are the best are covering up their true identity.”

“Exactly . . .”

“But it was his house, Jake. That was the clincher. The man is a slob – clothing on the floor, dirty dishes in the sink, mail and other papers sprawled over every surface. And yet, in all that mess, no bloody clothes, no possible murder weapon, no signs that he washed off blood in the shower. Lots of dishevelment and dirt gathered in corners but no evidence of his involvement in a brutal crime. It doesn’t fit.”

They sat in silent thought until a growl from Jake’s stomach made both of them laugh. “Are you as hungry as I am?” he asked.

“Obviously not! But I haven’t had a bite since noon.”

“That was nine hours ago, Lieutenant. I think you need to refuel. We oughta check you in at the hotel; it’s not far from here. Then we can walk a couple of blocks to a twenty-four-hour diner I know. Nothing fancy but their food is tasty. Sound good to you?”

“Just point the way.”

“There is one rule,” Jake said.

Lucinda rolled her eyes. “Of course there is. You’re a Feeb. You can’t function without a rule.”

Jake looked heavenward and sighed. “The one rule is no talking about the case while we’re having our belated dinner.”

At the restaurant, Jake maneuvered Lucinda to the side of the booth that put the damaged side of her face toward the wall and away from the waitress and the rest of the late-night diners.
Is he considerate? Or is he embarrassed to be seen with me?
Lucinda wondered.

After the waitress left with their order, Lucinda and Jake exchanged flickering smiles. Each one parted lips as if ready to begin conversation then shut them without uttering a word. Lucinda broke the silence with a nervous laugh. “Looks like, unless we talk about the case, we have nothing to say.”

“Actually, Lucinda, I’ve got a lot of questions I’d like to ask you but I’m afraid I’ll step into a landmine if I ask them and you’ll hightail it out of here.”

“Like what?”

“I want to know more about your injury. I want to know about your shootings in the line of duty. I want to know what caused your resentment of the FBI. I’d like to know all about you.”

Lucinda’s face flushed. She felt the stir of a strange sensation in her chest at the thought of his interest but she wasn’t about to let her guard down. “You don’t want to go there,” she said with a grimace.

“Okay. Nothing professional-related then. How about your parents? Tell me about your mom and dad.”

“Dead. Both dead.”

“Oh,” Jake bit his lip. “Ever married?”

“Yes.”

“Still married?”

“No.”

“What happened?”

“He left me, Jake.”

“Oh.”

“Without warning.”

“Oh.”

“Without even a note of explanation.”