Faceless (Sinister Secrets Book 2), page 24
“You recognize this man?” Dak shoved his phone toward Mitch.
Mitch focused on the screen. His jaw worked and his eyes hardened. “No. You think I know everyone on these docks?”
His face had told Dak all he needed to know.
Liar. Not only did Mitch recognize the man, he could identify him.
“Not everyone.” Dak never removed his eyes from Mitch’s face. “But probably a man that exited this building.”
Mitch clamped his lips together. “Can’t help you.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?” Dak dropped his voice and leaned in slightly. “Your daughter’s life is on the line here! Don’t you care?”
“Of course I care!” Mitch huffed through his nose. “I don’t know what happened to her.”
Dak shoved the phone closer. “This man does. And I think you know who he is and where to find him.”
“I don’t know anything. I’ve got work to do.” Mitch pulled back and narrowed his eyes on Dak. “And so do you. Find her.”
Mitch turned, inserted a key into the door, and let himself inside.
The lock clicked behind him.
While he hadn’t gotten the answers he’d wanted, he hadn’t honestly expected to. What he had accomplished however, was alerting Mitch to the situation. If they watched Mitch long enough, and didn’t lose him somewhere, Mitch might lead them straight to the man in the picture.
And, hopefully, to Kevyn.
Twenty
Lunch time. Finally.
Mitch shoved the box underneath the desk and joined the cluster of guys heading out for lunch.
The morning had dragged.
Ever since Agent Lakes’ visit, all he could think about was getting to Tio’s warehouse and confronting him about Kevyn.
No doubt existed in his mind that Tio was responsible for whatever had happened to her.
So help him, if Tio had killed her, there was nothing that would stop him from going straight to the FBI. With what he knew, surely he could work out a deal to avoid prison.
For now though, he needed to make it to that warehouse without being seen.
A challenge, given that he was certain the FBI was watching the warehouse – and him – and would tail him wherever he went.
Following Agent Lakes’ visit, he’d begun preparing for this very moment.
The packed suitcase he always kept in his office finally came to good use. He layered a black t-shirt beneath the red striped one he’d worn from home that morning. Agent Lakes and his team would be watching for that red shirt. He hoped the black shirt would be nondescript enough to not catch their attention.
Next, he tucked a baseball cap into his back pocket and made sure his shirt covered it. If anyone looked closely enough, they’d probably see a small bulge, but there was nothing he could do about that.
He fell into step beside one of the guys and started chatting about baseball and who he thought would make it to the World Series.
It was mundane, but it needed to look mundane for whomever was watching.
The guys went to a fast food place about two blocks up the road.
As the guys got in line to order, Mitch slipped away to the restroom. Once there, he stripped off his red-striped shirt and tossed it into the garbage.
Pity. He’d really liked that shirt.
Fitting the cap over his head, he left the restroom and exited the restaurant through a side door.
The door opened onto a smaller side street where a string of cars parked in the sixty-minute parking zone.
Rather than heading back toward the docks, he headed the opposite direction until he reached an alley.
The FBI was surely watching the front. He hoped they hadn’t been watching the side also.
If so, it should be easy enough to spot a tail in the alley.
He followed the alley until he reached the next cross street, then glanced behind him.
No one was in the alley. Nor did anyone appear to be watching.
Still, he turned right, heading away from the docks.
Blending with the moderate foot-traffic, he walked to the end of the block, crossed the street at the light, and merged with the foot-traffic on the opposite side.
Still no sign of anyone following him.
He fell into step with a group of men he guessed to be dock workers and walked with them toward the dock.
No one seemed to be watching him.
They reached the dock. The men headed left, but he broke to the right.
He pulled out his phone and texted Tio. On my way. Not being followed. Be ready to let me in.
While it was possible Tio wouldn’t let him in, he doubted it. The longer he hung around outside, the greater the chance he’d be seen by the wrong people.
He strode down the drive like a man on a mission, his eyes always on the move.
Dozens of people bustled around the area, making it easy to blend in.
Any of these people could be FBI. He’d never know, not until it was too late. Yet he saw no sign that any of them had any interest in him or what he was doing.
His phone dinged.
Tio. Take last ramp down to the water. We’ll pick you up.
Okay. Going in by boat wasn’t exactly how he’d envisioned this, but it made sense.
Tio had taken great pains to make that warehouse look abandoned. If he walked right up to it and someone saw, it’d blow the whole thing.
Not that it mattered for much longer.
If Tio was clearing out tonight, they only had to stay under the radar for another day.
There was the boat ramp. He headed for it.
As he approached the base of the ramp, he heard the low rumble of a boat.
A cabin cruiser approached the dock. The driver, whom he couldn’t see clearly, pulled back on the throttle and eased up to the walkway.
As he drew closer, he recognized the man as one of Zane’s guys.
At least he knew it was the right boat.
He boarded.
The man reversed the throttle and turned the boat out to sea.
A fist knotted in his stomach. “Where’re we going?”
Maybe Tio was going to have this guy kill him and dump him in the ocean.
A month ago that would have seemed ludicrous. Now, he wasn’t so sure.
“Circling around. In case you were followed.” The man yelled over the noise of the engine.
That made sense.
He hoped.
The dock shrunk in the distance before the driver turned the boat back toward shore. Cutting a wide circle around the dock, he approached the warehouse from the opposite side.
The boat pulled inside. A door rolled down behind them.
The silence deafened as the engine noise died.
Florescent lights cast the area in an eerie hue. He stepped out onto the walkway surrounding the boat area. Solid walls and a steel door prevented him from seeing inside.
He climbed the short stairway to the steel door, which opened as he approached.
Tio stood inside the door, eyebrows pressing over his narrowed eyes. “What’s so urgent that you had to come now?”
“Where is she?” Mitch’s hands fisted.
“Who?”
Like he didn’t know! Mitch didn’t even try to temper his response. “My daughter! I know you did something to her and I want to know what. Now!”
Tio took a small step back and held up his hands in a pacifying manner. “Chill. She’s fine.”
The admission didn’t feel as satisfying as Mitch had thought it would. “Why? I’m in. I’ve turned my back. Why would you go after her?”
“I didn’t.” Tio’s sharp tone lashed the space between them. “She came after me. Followed me right here. You should be thanking me for not getting rid of her.”
She was alive.
Mitch’s breath rushed out of him. His head felt light.
“Where is she?”
“Safe. Upstairs. In the room you once occupied.”
“I want to talk to her.” What he was going to say, he didn’t know. But at least now she couldn’t order him to leave, couldn’t walk away.
Never had he considered making her a captive audience, but this might not be all bad.
When they pulled out for good, they could leave her here, then phone in a tip when they’d cleared the area.
She lived. They got away. Everyone won.
“Guess it can’t hurt anything.” Tio nodded at the security guy who’d brought him here. “Take him up. Watch out for her though. I wouldn’t put it past her to try to fight her way out.”
Yeah, he wouldn’t either. She had her mother’s spunk.
The man jerked his head and started down the hallway.
He wasn’t sure how he should feel. Part of him was thrilled to have the chance to finally talk to her. Another part of him wanted to run away like the coward he was.
Forcing his feet to move, he followed.
He’d see this through. If they were leaving tonight, this might be his last chance to talk to her.
₪ ₪ ₪
Kevyn jerked as she heard a noise at the door.
It was now or never.
Lurching to her feet, she limped toward the door with as much speed as her swollen foot would allow.
The door opened and she barreled toward the man in the doorway.
Her shoulder slammed into his ribs, knocking him backward. A grunt slid from his lips as they tumbled to the floor.
Fisting her hand, she drew back.
Fingers wrapped around her wrist and pulled her back.
Of course, there would be two of them. Well, she’d take them both.
She had no choice.
She whipped around, using her body weight to generate force.
A glimpse of Mitch’s face filled her vision a second before her fist collided with his jaw.
He fell back.
While she hadn’t intended to strike her own father, she wasn’t sorry. Clearly, he was a part of this whole thing.
That her own blood could be involved in an organ trafficking ring made her sick.
He wasn’t a threat. Not really.
She whirled back to the other man, who was pushing himself up from the floor. Lashing out with her good foot, she aimed a kick at his jaw.
He easily caught her foot and flipped her off balance.
The hard floor stole her breath as she slammed against it.
Before she could recover, he gripped her arm, jerked her to her feet, and propelled her through the doorway.
She stumbled into the room, unable to stop the momentum from his push. She hit the sofa and caught herself on its arm.
The door slammed behind her.
She’d failed. Who knew if she’d get another chance.
Next time, they’d probably come in with gunfire.
A throat cleared behind her.
A gasp rose in her chest, but she swallowed it back.
Spinning around, she found Mitch standing there, rubbing his jaw.
“You got a mean left hook.” He shifted his weight. “Or maybe it was a right hook. Happened so fast I couldn’t tell.”
As the adrenaline faded, her foot screamed in agony. She hobbled to the sofa and collapsed on it, propping her foot on a pillow she’d placed on the coffee table.
Mitch approached slowly, as if she were a wild animal on the verge of attacking.
Then again, had his experiences with her led him to believe anything less?
“What happened to your foot?” He eased down onto a cushion at the far end of the sofa.
“You can thank your friend downstairs for that. He stabbed my foot.”
Mitch’s face lightened and he averted his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
She sighed. “You weren’t holding the knife.”
“I brought you into this.”
While she didn’t really want to give him an out, setting things straight would give her some indication of the level of Mitch’s involvement. “We’re tracking an organ trafficking ring. We would have been here with or without you.”
No indication of surprise.
He was a part of it. It didn’t come as a shock, but it still cut. “How could you do this? Kill innocent people for their organs?”
Vehement head-shaking answered her. “I’m not involved in that. I’m paid to do some record keeping. That’s it.”
“You help them keep things running! You may not be holding the knife or abducting the victims, but you’re as much a part of it as they are.” Her breathing quickened and her heart strummed against her ribs. “I can’t believe you’d do such a thing.”
“It’s not that bad. For every person who dies, several others live.”
She couldn’t keep her jaw from dropping. He seriously believed that lie? “You’re stealing life from that one person. Who are you to decide who gets to live?”
“Like I said, I keep the books. That’s it.”
She shook her head. “How can you live with yourself?”
“It’s not really that bad. I mean, I had reservations at first. Smuggling never hurt anyone–”
“Wait. Smuggling?” How many laws had her father broken?
He snapped his mouth shut and stared at her.
Clearly, he hadn’t intended to reveal that detail. Or maybe he thought she already knew.
“We provide a service.”
Seriously? He thought that made it all okay? “An illegal one. People die in smuggling operations. All the time. Don’t delude yourself into thinking you’re not hurting anyone.”
He rubbed his knees. “Yeah, well. We all have to make a living.”
No remorse. Not about the smuggling. Not about the kidnapping and organ harvesting.
He made up the rules as he went…
A chill snaked through her.
How many times had Dak accused her of the same thing?
Now that she was seeing it head on, it wasn’t a very attractive thing. Not at all.
“So, uh, I’d like to know about you.”
She snapped her attention back to him. “You haven’t earned that right.”
“I guess I deserved that.”
“Why didn’t you ever come back?” Her voice rose, a slightly shrill sound that she hated entering her tone. “You say you want a chance, but you were never there.”
“I know.” His shoulders dropped. “I can’t do anything about that now.”
“You can tell me why.”
“I was scared. At first. Then I got into smuggling and knew how Charlie, uh, your mom would feel about that.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Then I thought I’d make a little more money, get out, and find you and your mom and take care of you both.”
“But it was never enough.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
He didn’t have to tell her. When it came to greed, there was never enough.
He didn’t agree, but didn’t deny it either. “Then I met my ex-wife. We got married, had a family. But it all fell apart. I think maybe I never got over Charlie.”
Like that was supposed to make her feel better. “You didn’t even have the decency to divorce Mum before remarrying.”
He blinked. “Your mom and I were never married.”
What? The room spun.
Why had Mum never told her that?
Then again, had her mum ever said they were married? Sure, she’d assumed, but she didn’t recall them ever talking about it.
They hadn’t actually talked about Mitch much at all.
“So Charlie… she died? Cancer?”
The hair on her arms tingled and she rubbed them against a sudden chill. “Breast cancer. She didn’t catch it until it was too late.”
“I’m sorry. Wish I’d been there for you. And her.” The corners of his eyes drooped and his lips curled downward. “How old were you?”
“Twenty-seven. I was working as a psychologist in Australia at the time.”
He tilted his head. “Really. How’d you end up in the FBI?”
The hollowness of those years overwhelmed her again. A lump grew in her throat.
She would not cry. Not in front of this man.
“Too many memories there. I needed a change. Thought I’d try to apply my psychology background in a different field.” The reasons went much deeper than that, but he didn’t need to know them.
He didn’t deserve to know them. Not now and probably not ever.
A scrape came from the door, which swung open to reveal two men. One was the man from earlier, the other someone she didn’t recognize.
The second man spoke. “Boss says you got things to do.”
Mitch waved his hand dismissively. “Fine, fine.”
Turning back to her, she saw the regret in his eyes. “I wish we had more time. I’m sorry.”
For the first time, she thought he might actually mean it.
He pushed up and trudged toward the door, pausing in the doorway to give her one last look.
The door slammed behind him, the bolt grinding back into place.
His words echoed in her mind. More time. Meaning time was short.
For whom? For him? Or for her?
She leaned back against the sofa and stared at the ceiling.
How had she gotten here? Injured and trapped? Maybe on the short list for becoming an organ donor?
There had to be something she could do.
Dak would pray.
The thought lodged in her mind.
When was the last time she’d prayed?
Probably never. At least not like Dak did.
She believed in God, but did she believe God was as personal and involved as Dak claimed He was? Did she believe God cared about the mess she was in?
Maybe there was no better time to find out.
Hey, God. If you care, I could use some help. Can you show me how to get out of here?
No flash of lightning or rumbling voice, but Dak didn’t seem to hear that either.
Dak always did what he thought was best while waiting for God to act.
She just hoped God didn’t take too long. If Mitch’s words could be believed, she didn’t have that kind of time.
₪ ₪ ₪
“You lost him?” Fire blazed through Dak’s core and he worked to keep his tone level even as his fingers tightened on the phone.
The agent on the other end, the one who had been given one task – one task! – to watch Mitch Taylor, cleared his throat. “He went to lunch with a group of guys. If I’d gone inside, he woulda seen me for sure. So I watched from across the street. The rest of the guys came back out, but Taylor wasn’t with them. I waited a few minutes, you know, thought he might be in the john, but he didn’t come out. I went in and found his shirt in the trash in the men’s room.”
