The Target (29 page)

River took a seat and her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast and her body was tired. She was ready for Agent King to get in here so they could wrap this up. Dallas was watching on a monitor, but she planned to fly home the next day. River had sent her back into the ER for a bottle of antibiotics, and Dallas claimed to feel fine. If Decker didn’t plead out—‌and survived the infection—‌Dallas would have to come back for her trial. River doubted that would be necessary.

King came in, carrying a stack of thick folders and sat down. The paper was a show of mounting evidence, and his not staying on his feet meant he expected a soft interview. So did she. People facing death liked to get things off their chest, and egotistical perpetrators like Decker, couldn’t resist bragging or at least revealing how clever or effective they’d been.

King let her take the lead. Another expression of his gratitude for her insistence on pursuing the TecLife investigation and bringing closure for the Palmers.

Which is where she would start. “Agent Palmer died from an infected wound on his hand. The bacteria was unique and came from your lab. Did you expose him to it on purpose?”

Decker’s face was expressionless. “He exposed himself to it. He was snooping around in the lab without permission.”

Accidental?
River’s hopes plunged. “As far as we’re concerned, you killed him. And if you die, that’s how our case report will read. Why not tell us the truth?”

“I just did. I’m not stupid enough to cause the death of a federal agent who’d just questioned me. I got lucky on that one.”

Everything in Decker’s tone and body language signaled honesty, and the PulseTat found in Palmer’s pocket had come up clean. But River would come back to the subject. She feared she had little time and needed to extract as much information as she could. “Who did you hire to set the ProtoCell warehouse fire?”

“A woman named K. That’s all I know about her.”

“Come on. We need to find her. She’s a dangerous criminal.”

“Good luck. She’s very elusive, and I really don’t know anything about her.”

“How did you first contact her?”

“She came to me. She said one of my competitors had tried to hire her to steal my Slimbiotic data, but they hadn’t offered her enough money. K wanted to know if I would pay her more to work against them. I couldn’t resist the opportunity to give Brickman what he deserved.” A grim smile.

“Was Brickman the one who tried to hire K?”

“She wouldn’t name her client, but I suspected it was him.” Decker slumped in her chair. “I’m not telling you anything else until I see my daughter. I feel feverish already, and I don’t know how long I’ll be coherent.”

King cut in. “We have an agent picking her up now. So she’s on her way. Keep talking and we’ll let you visit with her in another room. No cuffs.”

Decker’s eyes squinted, trying to assess who had the most leverage, but she didn’t respond.

River pressed on. “Did you kill Michael Pence? A neighbor saw a car that matches yours outside his house the night he died.”

Decker shook her head, angry. “I’m not a killer. I went to see Michael because I wanted to bribe him to come work for me. But he’d been drinking and was belligerent. Then I realized he had a gun sitting there on the couch.” Her expression shifted to regret. “I decided to leave, but he grabbed the gun and threatened me. He said he’d been thinking about suicide but that he might kill me instead.”

River didn’t buy it. “Why would he threaten you?”

“He was drunk, suicidal, and angry. My offer of employment offended him. He aimed his gun at me and threatened to shoot me.”

“How did he end up dead?”

“He wanted to kill himself and frame me for it. He grabbed my hand and tried to wrap it around his gun. It was so bizarre.” A watery mist came into her eyes. “But I got away and pulled out my own handgun. I had no intention of using it. I just wanted to get out. I started backing toward the door and he shot himself.”

“Why would he kill himself? His wife and friends all said he was happy.”

“Is anyone really happy?” Decker’s voice had softened and her cheeks were flushed.
“
When I offered Michael a job at TecLife, he scoffed. He said one lab was the same as another, that they were all prisons.” She rolled her eyes. “He said scientists were all slaves to their research and that it was no way to live. Did I mention that he was drunk and depressed?”

River had to accept her version. The autopsy had been ruled a suicide, and all the physical evidence indicated Pence had put the gun to his own head. “What about Jace Hunter? Someone bashed her on the head and dragged her into the ocean. That clearly wasn’t an accident.”

Decker sighed. “I told you I’m not a killer. And I liked Jace. I’m upset to find out she was spying on me, but I didn’t know she was a federal agent until she jumped on the hood of the car and pointed a gun at me.”

Dallas was certain the for-hire saboteur had attacked her, and River was inclined to think so too. It was good to get information about the other deaths, but she felt disappointed.

Decker’s eyes started to look glassy. “I’ll sign a confession for the acts of sabotage, but only if you let me see Amber. This bacteria will probably kill me in twenty-four hours, and it won’t be pretty.”

River looked at King and he nodded. She stood to uncuff their suspect. “Do you know why Brickman might have killed your father?”

“He’s an asshole and wanted to get back at me,” Decker said, sounding exhausted. “Brickman confessed to the murder when we were in the ambulance. The bastard is going to die, but I want the public to know the truth about him.”

“But why was James Avery at ProtoCell?” River was still confused about that scenario.

“He was trying to help me and Amber.” Decker shook her head. “Please don’t smear his name in public. Let his fans remember him as their hero.”

As River uncuffed Decker and let her stand, the suspect said, “One more thing. I want to call Curtis Santera. He has to continue looking for a cure for Prader-Willi syndrome since I won’t be here to do it. It’s my dying wish.”

King escorted Decker to another,
softer
interrogation room, and River went in search of Dallas. She found her in the break room pouring coffee.

“What’s the update on the SlimPro delivery trucks?” River asked. Agents and police officers had descended on the ProtoCell factory earlier, but the trucks had already gone out. The bureau was coordinating a statewide search to stop them and confiscate the product.

“We’ve got all but one, and we think it crossed into Nevada. Their state patrol is searching for it. And the FDA and CDC are working together to warn doctors and clinics that SlimPro is lethal and should be treated as a bio-hazard.”

Relieved, River said, “So other than Brickman and Decker, no one was infected?”

“Except me.” Dallas grinned. “But my exposure was minimal, and since I didn’t have an open wound, I’ll be fine.”

“How’s your head?”

“Painful, but I’ll live.” The young agent gave a sad smile. “Decker’s nuts, isn’t she? The agents who searched her house said she had seventeen kinds of medication. Some of it was for paranoia and anxiety, but the rest was all appetite suppressants and weight-loss drugs. I think her daughter will be better off in the care of someone else.”

“I wonder what the state will do with her.”

“That depends on who the father is and whether Child Services approves of Decker’s friend Saul Ortega to be her caregiver.”

A moment of silence. They were both exhausted.

“I’m going home,” River said. “By that, I mean my rental. So should you. The local guys can do all the grunt work.”

Dallas grinned again. “That’s what I like best about undercover work. They always send me home just as the investigation gets boring.”

“Let’s get out of here.”

Dallas didn’t argue and they headed out of the bureau into another dark warm evening.

On the drive to her apartment, River called Jana Palmer, who picked up right away. “What’s going on? Agents were all over TecLife today, but no one would tell me anything.”

“We arrested Cheryl Decker and she confessed to the sabotage.” River paused, knowing this would be hard for Jana. “Decker says Joe’s contamination was an accident. He handled the bacteria with a wound on his hand.”

“So he died from a scratch?” Jana let out a small sob. “How unfitting for his career.”

“His death wasn’t in vain. If you two hadn’t initiated this investigation, thousands of innocent customers might have died from tainted SlimPro products.” It was mostly true, and Jana needed closure. “Decker also infected herself and refused treatment.”

“She’s going to die?” Jana’s voice was quiet.

“Yes. She was facing life in prison.”

“What about her daughter?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“Thanks, River.” Jana started to cry. “I can’t talk anymore right now. Come see me before you leave town.” She hung up.

River vowed to keep in better touch with her. And in the next few minutes, she made two important decisions. The first was easy. She would not go see her father in prison. She’d said goodbye to him long ago. And a visit would be distressful, with nothing to gain.

Her relationship with Jared was a conundrum though. If she only thought of him as a friend, she probably would have told him about her past already, and let the chips fall. A true friend would be supportive. But since she’d been attracted to him from the beginning, she hadn’t been able to bring it up. Yet, if they were going to have a sexual relationship, he needed to know.

River made a decision. She would tell him as soon as she got home. Not only that she used to be a man, but that she wanted more from their relationship. She expected him to be polite and supportive, then gone the next day.

Every decision was correct in the moment.

Kiya took a cab to the airport, thinking the jobs she’d done for Decker had paid nicely and brought her closer to her goal of retiring to Greece to paint and be happy. The day before, she’d sold her motorcycle and rented a moving truck. Then packed her few possessions, driven them to a storage unit in Silicon Valley, and come straight back. A long tedious day, but vital to her survival. She wouldn’t risk coming back to San Diego.

Kiya climbed from the cab, tipped the driver, and hauled her two carry-on bags inside. Her first flight was to Hungary. It was never a good idea to fly direct to a Middle Eastern county from the United States. The TSA scrutinized those passengers more closely. Even with her fake passport and adopted American name, her skin color was still suspicious to security people. The bright-blue contacts and dyed-blond hair would help though. From Hungary, she would fly to southern Uzbekistan and meet with Abdul. After she paid the councilman, her father would be arrested and imprisoned. Once she was certain of his fate, she’d fly back and set up in her new home. In Silicon Valley, she could probably make money in intellectual theft and sabotage for quite a while.

An hour later, she stepped up to a customs counter and handed the man her passport and boarding pass.

“Who are you visiting in Hungary?”

A routine question. They always asked something just to see who began to sweat. “My sister. She’s getting married.”

He stared at her face for a long moment, then picked up a clipboard and checked a list of names. Were they looking for her? Kiya fought to stay calm. If they searched her, she was screwed. How would she explain the thirty thousand hidden in the back panel of her coat? Not to mention the fake passport. The customs agent flipped through the papers on the clipboard and stared at a new page. He studied her face again, as if comparing.

Had the federal agent taken an identifiable picture of her? And shared it with transportation hubs?
Dashat!
She gave the man a small smile. “I’m not crazy about weddings, but she’s my sister. You know?”

“I know.” He set down the clipboard, handed back her ID, and waved her through.

Her muscles relaxed as she walked away, and a strange sadness came over her. She wished she’d come up with some other reason for visiting Hungary. Mentioning her sister had messed with her head. Now she couldn’t stop thinking about an eight-year-old girl she’d never met. A child with her genes living the same horrific life she’d been subjected to.

Her gate was just ahead, so Kiya sat down to wait for her flight. Maybe she would use her cash to buy the girl’s freedom instead of taking revenge on her father. She could teach her sister everything she knew and put her to work. Together they could make a great team. They could earn another fortune—‌and move to Greece together.

* * *

Dallas sat on the terrace in the dark, drinking a beer and staring at the phone in her lap. It was her personal cell, and the last caller had been her mother. The little icon in the corner indicated her mother had left a message. She didn’t want to play it. Yet, she had to know.

She finished her beer, fetched another, and sat back down. Cameron had texted her too, and she read his message again:
I’m in Phoenix, looking for a place to live. When will you be back?

Her brush with death, plus her failure to apprehend K, had left her feeling eager to get away from San Diego. She keyed
Soon
into a text message and pressed Send. It wasn’t a commitment to see him. Just the courtesy of a response.

Halfway through her beer, she listened to the voicemail from her mother: “Your father died this morning. The funeral is Saturday. I hope you’ll come.”

Dallas visualized the old man in a casket, and an unexpected grief overwhelmed her. A moment later, she was sobbing. She didn’t try to hold back or talk herself out of it. She let the tears flow.

But the outburst was brief, and another longing took over. She keyed in a second text to Cameron:
I’ll be on a plane Friday. Let’s hook up for the weekend and see how it goes.