The Girl on the Yacht (18 page)

Cameron took Jackie’s phone from the table and dialed. She gave him basic information about the case. “Send Purdy to get the warrant. You take at least three teams over,” the investigator directed Sergeant Little Horse. “Let everyone know that he’s a professional killer. Shoot first and ask him to raise his hands later.” She disconnected, glanced over at Jackie, and held up the phone. “Mind if I borrow this?”

“Whatever you need, detective.” The prosecutor grinned.

“How long will it take to get a search warrant signed by a judge?” Marin asked Cameron.

“Five minutes, with what we have.”

“A
local
contract killer––what are the odds of that?” Marin asked as the two left the boat and headed down the dock.

“He may have been the closest, that’s all.” Cameron’s eyes beamed. “Not very professional letting us catch up.”

“He did a poor job of planning and execution, as well.” Marin seemed stumped. “I can’t get my head around killing Laura on the dock. So many things could have gone wrong.”

“I would have bet that he was long gone by now,” Cameron said.

“He might be. You still have to find him.”

Cameron stopped at the top of the ramp at the embankment. She thought for a second and dialed the phone. “Any of our people there yet?”

“Two patrol cars, and I’m pulling up in a second,” Little Horse said. “Purdy boy is ten minutes out with the warrant.”

“Any sign of the guy?”

“No. But, the first patrol on scene spotted a woman coming out a little while ago to throw trash in the bin at the curb.”

“Did they pull her away?”

“No, you said to sit on it. I’m guessing it’s the wife. She doesn’t seem to be in any danger.”

“Yeah, okay. Just stay alert. I’m on the way. Remember who we’re dealing with—former Navy SEAL—so don’t screw up.”

“No problem.” The tone in Little Horse’s voice told her she had just stated the obvious.

“Gotta go.” Cameron disconnected.

“He seems pretty good––on top of things,” Marin said.

Cameron nodded. “He’s the best old-school detective on the force.”

“Old school––what’s the difference?”

“Technology.” Cameron pointed to her iPad. “He doesn’t want one of these––won’t use it––even though the department got him one.” She gave out a gentle laugh. “And that’s just the start.”

“Does he use a computer?”

“Only to type his final––and I mean
final
––case reports. He’s convinced Purdy that it’s customary for the trainee to enter the sergeant’s final reports—kind of an unwritten right of passage, he told the guy.”

Marin laughed at the thought. “Senior officers are always messing with the newbies.” Marin opened the gate with her keycard. “Did you call him Little Horse—is that his name?”

“That’s what we call him.” Cameron seemed to be digging into her memory. “I think his father gave him that Indian name when he was born, if I remember right.

“He’s Native American?” Marin asked.

“Cherokee––he grew up in Oklahoma.”

“On a reservation?”

“No,” Cameron chuckled, “the big city of Tulsa. His father was an oil rigger.”

“And Little Horse ends up in Orange County––how’d that happen?”

“He had no interest in working on oil wells.” Cameron dug a little deeper into her thoughts. “A Marine Corps recruiter visited Little Horse’s high school and showed him a different life––being part of the Marine Expeditionary Force. It sounded exciting.” She shrugged her shoulders. “He was a kid––signed up on the spot. His dad stood behind his decision. A few weeks later, Little Horse graduated high school and was on a bus to Camp Pendleton.”

“What’s the Expeditionary Force?” Marin asked.

“Infantry.”

“Did he know that?”

“Nope.”

Marin thought for a minute. “How’d he settle in Orange County?”

“Was stationed at El Toro Marine Air Station.”

“I’m getting more confused by the minute––air station––infantry?”

“After his basic training down at Pendleton––that’s how he got to California––he scored well enough to choose military police training. That’s what landed him at El Toro. After his enlistment, he joined the Sheriff’s Department–– nineteen years ago.” She felt a warm feeling remembering her first meeting with Little Horse when she was fourteen.

“Shouldn’t he be senior over you?”

“Politics––no college degree.”

“How’d you end up with him on your team? Sounds like you lucked out.”

“My dad was his patrol training officer when Little Horse first joined the department. They hit it off, and Dad took him on as his regular partner. He saw something in him. A few years later, when Dad was a lead homicide investigator, Little Horse got his promotion and they teamed until my dad retired. I’ve known him since I was a teenager. And yeah, I lucked out when he teamed with me.” Cameron opened the Prius door. She stood and stared at Marin. “You can’t go along.”

“I get it. I need to go to the store, anyway.” She made the excuse to let Cameron off. She had once been on that side of the conversation—no unauthorized civilians on a dangerous confrontation. Disappointed, she had one last question for Cameron.

“What’s his legal name?”

“Will Rogers.”

“Like the entertainer in the 1930’s?”

Cameron nodded. “Apparently, the first Will Rogers was a famous Cherokee. Anyway, I gotta go. They haven’t seen Michael White yet, and we’re hoping he’s still inside the house. When I get there, we’re going in.”

“I hope he’s the guy. Call me when you’re done. I’ll worry about you and your team till then.”

“You’re my first call. Tell John, thanks.”

John and Teddy both looked up when they felt the boat rock. An instant later, the sliding door opened and Marin entered from the bright light into the darkened salon. Apparently caught off guard, she halted her forward progress and peered at the two men sitting at the dining table.

Teddy rose to his feet and extended his right hand in her direction. “Marin, we haven’t met. I’m Teddy Bryce. I’m––”

“I know who you are. John’s told me all about you.” She sauntered over and shook his hand.

Teddy glanced in John’s direction. “Not everything, I hope. A little mystery’s a good thing.”

She gave him a subdued smile.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“I’ve got some information for your detective friend.” He indicated that she should sit across the table from him, next to John.

“Wow, you’re coming forward with information.” She stared at John. “I thought he never let go of––”

“Hey, I’m one of the good guys here,” Teddy pleaded.

“Has he told you?” she asked John.

“We were waiting for you and Cameron to come back. How’d that go?”

“She’s over there right now. I hope she got him.”

“Michael White.” Teddy stated more than asked.

Marin looked lost in thought for an instant, then she turned back to John.

“You told him about White?” Her tone suggested that John had given away a deep secret.

“No,” he replied.

“How did you find out?” She stared at Teddy.

The CIA Director chuckled. “I’ll tell you a little trade secret––we bug phones and hack computers.”

“Not my computer,” John said with confidence.

“No. Can’t seem to find a hacker good enough to get into yours—but we’re still looking for him or her.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Wait a minute, you bugged
my
phone?” Marin feigned surprise.

Without answering her question, he turned to John. “By the way, telling the detective to turn off all of her devices before you went to the FBI offices—that was classic spy school 101. You two want to come to work for me?”

“No way.” Marin and John answered in harmony.

“Well, anyway,” Teddy pulled out a small pad of paper, “I’ll tell you what I can.” His eyes searched Marin’s for a sign of friendship. He smiled. “Michael White was a SEAL from ninety-three to two thousand five. He was given a medical discharge.”

“What was his injury?” John asked.

“Nothing, really.”

John and Marin stared at him.

“It was like this. Michael and his team did some work for us.”

“Us? The CIA?”

Teddy nodded. “You didn’t hear it from me, but Special Forces often does clandestine insertions on our behalf––more so since Nine-Eleven. In 2005, Michael and his team crossed the Pakistan border and headed into the mountains in search of a high priority target. During their raid, Michael’s best friend was killed.”

“Don’t tell me––Joel Bates.” John’s memory kicked in.

Teddy stared at John. “How––”

“I read it somewhere.” John tried to divert his friend’s thoughts. “What happened to Michael?”

“He lost it and killed a civilian.”

“That happened a lot in places like Afghanistan,” Marin said.

Teddy shook his head. “Not with Special Forces. They keep their heads while the world burns down around them.”

“It was his best friend,” John said.

“Doesn’t matter. Michael murdered an innocent village elder and the word spread across the region.”

“So you court-martialed him?” Marin asked.

“Michael was relieved of duty and placed under house arrest at his Afghan base. The SEAL commanding officer reviewed the case and recommended a court-martial.” Teddy shook his head slowly. “The CIA station chief confronted the colonel and made it clear that we didn’t want media involvement in the case.”

“So, no court martial?” John said.

“Couldn’t––we had no authorization to cross the border into Pakistan. The Navy brass gave Michael White a choice––prison without a trial––”

“They can’t do that.” Marin, the criminologist, interrupted.

“Military––they can do whatever the hell they want––stick him in a clandestine prison somewhere outside the country and call him a terrorist.”

“What was his other choice?” John asked.

“He could keep quiet and take a full medical discharge. The incident would be swept under the rug, and he could live out the rest of his days in relative freedom.”

“No brainer,” John added.

“Except, we just found that he had a hard time adjusting back into civilian life.”

“So––he became a hit man?” Marin’s voice raised.

“No, not from what we’ve put together. He’s a mercenary training officer in one of the latest privatized security corporations.”

“Private armies.” John shook his head.

“Big demand for former special ops people––good pay, too.”

“Get to the point. You didn’t come here to tell us this––what’s the real reason––what do you want?” Marin’s eyes seared the man’s face with an intense stare.

“My team and I are not here in an operational capacity––we’re doing a routine investigation of the death of one of our own. I have no field agents here––can’t do it inside the country. It’s a local matter unless we find a connection to the Agency, then the FBI takes over the case from the Sheriff’s Department.”

“What does that have to do with––” Marin was cut off.

“Without the field resources, I’m working two steps behind the actual investigation.”

Marin nodded her head. “You want Cameron to feed you real time information. Why didn’t you just ask your buddy, John, to keep you up to date?” She glanced at John.

“He won’t tell me that. I had him on the phone earlier, and he refused to acknowledge that he was inside the Department of Defense system.”

“What DOD system?” John asked, a sly smile spread across his face.

Teddy rolled his eyes up. “See what I mean?”

“Are you tracking Michael White’s phone?” Marin asked. “Is he at the house?”

“My people are working on it.” Teddy took out his phone and dialed. “Tell me,” he said to the person on the other end. “Yeah, okay.” He disconnected.

“Is Michael at the house?” Marin asked again.

“Haven’t found a number for him yet. These guys are good at staying low. His phone’s probably registered in one of his other names.”

Marin stared at Teddy, puzzled.

He continued, “These special forces guys are just short of total paranoia. They all do it––multiple identities.” He turned to John. “How’d you find his house address?”

“County tax records. He had to make his joint property ownership legal with his wife.”

Teddy nodded. “John, you both should be at the Agency. You’d make a great team––covert––or at the very least on an investigative detail.”

“No, thanks,” John said emphatically. He looked over at Marin who seemed lost in a thought. He asked her, “What is it?”

“I don’t get why he’s here––near his home––killing Laura Douglas? Is it her CIA connection?”

“Maybe he’s turned to killing for profit, and what’s better than taking out his old friends at Langley.” John looked at Teddy.

“We need him caught, and that’s why I’m giving you this information.”

“Cameron will get him if he’s still at home. She’s there now.”

“What else will you share?” Marin’s words came out with an enhanced sarcasm.

Teddy shrugged.

John asked, “He went to Beverly Hills High––what’s that about?”

“His mother’s family had money––lots of it. His father had some pull in the Navy, and that’s how Michael got into the SEALs.” Teddy chuckled. “That’s the kicker. His father was a real hard ass. Michael never lived up to his expectations.”

“Shit, he was a SEAL—how high are the father’s expectations?”

Teddy shrugged.

“We’ll let you know when Cameron has him in custody.” Marin stood up to signal that they were done.

“We’ll make sure he never sees the light of another day.” Teddy headed for the door.

“You’d kill him?” Marin asked.

Teddy glanced at John. “Your girlfriend watches too many movies.”

“She’s not my . . . well, I mean. . . .”

Marin smiled at him.

John was hoping it wasn’t the girlfriend part, but the movie comment.
What were they? It was too soon to know. I hope she’s still in love with me.

Marin interrupted John’s thoughts. “Too many movies? Teddy, are you telling me the CIA doesn’t kill people?” She stared at the Assistant Director.

“He’s murdered innocent people. He’ll be put away for life.”