Savage Betrayal, page 13
"I know who you are," the officer said but didn't step out of the way. Duncan didn't care one way or another and stepped around him.
The elevator doors opened to organized chaos. The first thing his eyes searched for was his Nickie. She stood unharmed, huddled with two officers Duncan had never seen before. A powerful weight lifted from his chest and floated away. He'd known she was okay, but something inside of him must have needed to see it for himself. Knowing what she'd been through, he felt justified.
He slipped out of the elevator and held open the doors for two EMTs pushing a stretcher that carried a man dressed in black pants and mock turtleneck.
Another perpetrator lay on a board as additional EMTs blew up a temporary cast around the length of his leg. This was all consequential since Duncan's eyes were mostly focused on one man. Jun Zheng sat alone on the floor, centered along the wall between Duncan's personal office door and the hallway that led to his set of bathrooms.
The expression on the bastard's face was wrong. Zheng worked far too hard to appear smug. His hands were behind his back, but he sat still, too still, and it took much too long for him to notice as Duncan stepped toward him.
"No," Nickie yelled as Duncan flipped Zheng on his side.
Duncan didn't have time to inspect the handcuffs behind Zheng's back. There weren't any. A neatly cut zip tie hung from the wrist that swung around toward the side of Duncan's head. Duncan ducked enough to dodge most of the blow, but the hook grazed his left brow, jerking his head to the side.
In the fraction of a second it took for Duncan to regain his balance, a pocketknife had materialized in Zheng's hand. He dodged the blade as Zheng swept it across his midsection and the follow-up round-house kick at his head.
Fancy karate shit. He caught Zheng's glare long enough to fake a jab and follow it up by a shoulder-heavy punch to the side of his face. Duncan stepped back as Zheng wavered and the officers swarmed.
Nickie stood with her hands out, suspicion in her eyes. It pained him when she feared him. "I'm me," he said in a language of understanding only the two of them knew. He was he. He was here. No flashback. His mind was not that of a soldier left in the desert pulling the bodies of his platoon from his Chinook. Unfortunately, he understood why she needed to be sure.
She nodded and took his hand as she turned to inspect the altercation between Zheng and the officers. One used handcuffs to secure his arms behind his back as the other pulled out a set of leg shackles. Together, they hoisted him to his feet and yanked him upright.
Blood dripped from his smiling mouth as Zheng's gaze dropped to Duncan's and Nickie's joined hands. Duncan tried to release their connection, but Nickie squeezed tighter. "Karma's a bitch, Zheng. I'm bringing you to the station myself. Your minion won't get you out this time."
The station. Duncan dipped his lips close to her ear. "I need to tell you something. It's about the station."
* * *
It was like she'd been up for days. The weight of the scene pulled Nickie's shoulders down as she stood over the body. Lucinda. Shot as she sat at her cheap metal desk, working at a job that paid her little to nothing.
The coroner was done, and he had moved to the new dude lying lifeless on the other side of the commons area. Which made it Nickie's job to give the nod to bag her. She'd photographed every angle. Recorded the details on her old school recorder. Then, why couldn't she say the words?
The mess that was her office would be nothing compared to this. Single gunshot between the eyes. Kill shot. Lucinda was likely dead before she slid out of her office chair and hit the floor. She had grown kids and a husband.
The backs of Nickie's eyes burned and threatened to betray her. A strong hand covered the top of her shoulder. Her captain. She glanced to the other side of the room. Chocolate brown eyes of support watched her as Duncan nodded slightly enough that only she would see it.
Nickie inhaled deeply, then told the men patiently waiting, "Bag her." Her voice caught, but she had to be strong for the countless girls that needed to be saved from all this. That Lucinda died for in the process. "Take her downstairs. The ME will get to her when he can." When he could. He had four bodies from here and one from Duncan and Nickie's house.
This was the Northridge Police Department. Rickard's lab didn't have room for five bodies, let alone any down there who died from natural causes since his lab doubled as the temporary city morgue. Was that where Nickie just sent Lucinda? To a metal drawer to wait her turn? She'd worked at the station long before Nickie was transferred here. Now, she was dead because of people who wanted Nickie dead.
And why hadn't they taken a shot at Nickie, she wondered as she skipped her office and turned for the captain's. They obviously had plenty of men. The operation was big enough, deep enough, extensive enough.
Her father was part of this organization. Did he have a tattoo of a falcon on his left forearm? Or did Jun Zheng let the one inlaid in his foyer suffice?
There were extra guest chairs in Dave's office. It made her stop short and wonder where they came from. As if that mattered in any way, shape or form.
Dave followed her in and sat in his enormous chair behind his desk. In the chairs were Miranda, Eddy, Duncan and Andy. In that order. With the chair right in the middle empty. Head spinning, she sank down.
"I'm sorry that took so long. The two security officers downstairs at the screening station were found in an adjacent room. Single gunshots to the forehead. Same with the desk clerk, who sits... who sat just outside my office. It looks like the new guy was shot by someone else. His was a chest shot. Sloppier."
Chapter 18
Nickie closed her eyes before continuing. "No one on floors two or three seemed to know anything was amiss. They are no worse for the wear." She sighed, her lids refusing to open. "Cameras say there were nine of them."
Nine. She shook her head. At least five at her house. Three at Duncan's office. That was seventeen. Yes, why didn't they just kill her and get it over with?
"It appears they came in, took out security, then stood guard at the two entrance doors. Witnesses say a man in a white jumpsuit turned them away when they tried to enter the facility. Told them there was a gas leak. By the time social media spread the word around, Zheng's men were gone.
"They went right for my office, Dave. And Eddy's. That and the break-ins at my place... at Duncan's office, they lead toward an information-gathering motive. I'm married to Duncan Reed. Which means they have to know I would have electronic copies of everything copied to the cloud. So, I assume they were fishing. Why don't they just kill me?"
Had she said that last part out loud? The room began to spin, the air conditioning system getting louder. She was losing oxygen and needed to stick her head between her knees. Refusing to be a distraction, she remained upright. With her last comment, the others would think she feared death. She didn't. Not her own.
People were already dead because of her. Again. The children she'd left behind when she escaped captivity. Casualties lost when her detective work was too slow. Lucinda.
Eddy cleared his throat. "Early on when I learned the emails had been sent through my machines, I tried to find out who was doing the sending. I couldn't break into what they did to my machine. Just knew the emails kept routing through my desktop unit. I knew I looked guilty as hell. The job had been too good. Too careful. I suspected Parker, but he'd already gotten cozy with the ADA." He tilted his chin toward Miranda. "Respectfully speaking, of course."
Miranda turned several shades of red. Dipping her chin, she lifted a hand and waved him on.
"Since I'd already made some... comments about her. Sorry again. They were all good, by the way. Anything I said was going to come across as me trying to frame Parker over a personal jealous thing. I set up a camera in my office to catch the bastard, but they must have figured out a way to do it remotely. Parker was smart to choose her and to choose my machines. Or else Zheng was smart to lead him in that direction, ya know." He lifted his brows to the captain.
"Apology accepted, Detective," Dave said. "Please continue."
"They're good, that's for sure. Jimmied into my place. Planted this laptop I heard about." He shook his head. "I couldn't break in, but they must have known you'd be able to, Duncan."
Duncan didn't respond. His expression didn't waver either.
"So, I started watching the Reed place. Started following the prick. Parker, I mean. His dates with the ADA."
And just when Nickie thought Miranda's chin couldn't dig any lower into her neck.
Eddy sighed. "He went into Phil the barber's shop."
"What?" Nickie sat up. "When?"
"That's right, Nick. And it was after Phil was murdered. Under the yellow tape and all. Something's in there, man. I broke in and searched every corner. Hell if I can find a damned thing. I had no idea this deal today was going to happen. I followed Parker out of the station. He met up with his black turtleneck pals and the rest is on the books."
"It's good to have you back, Detective," Dave said distractedly. "I'm sorry we ever doubted you."
"It's good to be back, sir. And if the roles were reversed, I would have doubted me, too."
Dave nodded and said, "I know you have more and I have a few questions myself, but right now we need to hear from Dr. Li."
Traci was winded, but she didn't sound traumatized. Not like the ADA and certainly not like Duncan's office manager. She was angry. Her recount of the events was spot on with the evidence.
"I kneeled behind the desk, unarmed, for a half hour, texting whoever I could and listening as they shot innocent people and ransacked the place. At least seventeen perpetrators—"
So, Dr. Li had counted as well.
"—have infiltrated no less than three locales in regards to a trafficking operation that spans the country. I am sorry, Captain, Detectives. I know we don't like it, but I am notifying the feds."
Already done, Nickie thought. Dave knew this, too.
"And I'd like to finish my interview with Detective Savage. With as much professionalism as I can emphasize, this has become personal for me."
Nickie pulled herself up, the determination in Dr. Li's voice giving her a renewed sense of drive. "I'm ready to finish our interview whenever you are, Doctor."
* * *
Nickie insisted they do the interview in her office. It would have been like a stick-it-to-Zheng tribute. She'd told Dr. Li it was Nickie's town and Nickie's station and Nickie's case. Yet here they sat, back in Interrogation 1.
"I see you were fourteen when you were abducted," Dr. Li said as she flipped through Nickie's files, Nickie's personal files.
"Yes." Nickie sighed. There were few things in life she liked less than talking about her childhood.
"By gunpoint in your home?"
"Yes."
"He found you asleep in your bed?"
"Yes." Nickie ignored the dizzy nausea, refusing to stick her head between her legs.
"He coerced you through the window and down the ladder with a gun?"
"Yes."
Traci smiled and tilted her head. "Generally, after the first two yeses, my subjects feel uncomfortable with such unhelpful answers and tend to elaborate."
Nickie smiled in return, leaned back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap.
"You spent eighteen months in captivity?"
"Yes."
"What was the abductor's demeanor during the abduction?"
Ah. An open-ended question. "Indifferent."
"Tell me about the ride away from your home."
That part was fuzzy. "I was taken in a white box truck. Cliché, I know. Duct tape over my mouth and thrown in the back. He was still indifferent. I may as well have been a chicken he carried to the market."
Dr. Li paused and glanced at her before continuing. "Tell me about the first few days. Was your abductor present? What was his demeanor in this atmosphere?"
"You keep saying my abductor. You know who took me. His name is Jun Zheng." Nickie leaned over her files that rested in front of the doc. "See? There's a picture and everything."
"I want to learn his motive. It will help me with who works for him." She leaned back and looked Nickie in the eye. "And over him."
"Over him?" Nickie asked.
"Did he treat you differently from the others?"
The others. Bile rose in her throat. She stood and ran to the wastebasket that sat next to the only door to the room. As she emptied her stomach, Traci said, "If you would have dropped your head lower than your heart when you began to feel lightheaded, that might not have happened."
Nickie wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stood only to find Traci inches away offering a paper towel. Nickie took it and cleaned herself up.
"He's a bad guy, Traci," she said as she sat back in her spot. "He's the bad guy. If you tell me where you are going with this, I could be... more helpful."
"Fair enough, but then I need you to trust me and my expertise."
"You've trusted mine. So, fair enough."
"It will help me if I learn his persona. Examples, details. Not just your assessment, although it is also warranted and worthy."
The last part was patronizing, but Nickie would have done the same and she really wanted to get this over with. "The others meant nothing to him. The girls meant nothing." That was Nickie's assessment. She held up a finger before she continued. "He didn't talk to them or to me at first. Not unless it was time for training or a job."
"Training?"
Nickie stuck her head between her legs and closed her eyes. For that moment, the nightmares behind her lids were a necessary evil. "He needs most of us to submit. Training is his way to make sure we do."
Silence.
Okay. "It involves rape, but never by him. He only does the beatings."
"That helps me, Nickie. Thank you. You've switched to present tense, and that worries me."
She had? "Why does that worry you?"
"I am interviewing a person who just vomited, has her head between her legs and is speaking as if she is there in her past."
Nickie held her hand above the table and moved it in big circles. "I'm fine. Keep going."
"You said he needed, needs, most of you to submit. Why did you say most?"
Her head cleared, and she sat up. The doc's posture was official and methodical. Her eyes were not. Even though her nose was up and her lids partially closed, her eyes were glossy and rimmed with pink.
"Some liked—" Nickie emphasized the past tense ending. "—fighters. I was a fighter. It's why they called me savage. It's why I changed my name. I don't want to forget that time or the girls or my purpose on this planet. I may have been through hell, but that hell made me what I am. That hell has saved others. Kidnapping victims to college rape victims to groups of captive children in trafficking crime rings. I have no regrets."
"Other than the girls you left behind."
The backs of her eyes burned. "What the hell does that have to do with the station mole, Jun Zheng, my father or this investigation? You have about two minutes before I'm outta here."
The doc dipped her chin. "I apologize, Detective. Let's move to your father."
Her shoulders became tired. "What do you want to know?"
"You're a woman in your thirties."
"Early thirties."
"You've had personal experience with victims representing a plethora of types of abuse."
"Barely early thirties really."
"I'd like to hear your thoughts on your father."
"I don't know. I'm not a good judge of parenting." There it was again. Why did she stop taking her birth control pills? She could really use a Diet Coke right about then.
"You'll be a lovely mother."
"Who said I'm going to be a mother?" She answered too quickly. Damn it.
The doc smiled. It wasn't got-cha or condescending. It might have been easier if it was. "You're a giver. You see, some people are takers. They take. Some are traders. They will give, but keep a record expecting something in return. You are a giver. You've been this way since childhood, I suspect. Or at least since the time you were abducted."
What would make her say such a thing? She sat back and slung a boot on her knee. "My father showed no signs of sexual interest in children or that of extramarital affairs, for that matter, if that's what you're getting at."
"Not the facts, Nickie. What do you think? You were there. You know better than anyone. Your view may be clouded with childhood perspectives, but you were there."
"Clouded with childhood perspectives?" She didn't care if her voice was rising. "Regarding my father?"
"Do you think a person could be immune to the effects of their upbringing?"
That made sense. Sort of. She looked to the wall. Gray blocks of concrete. Not helping. She closed her eyes and listened to the thrumming of the relentless rain. "He was indifferent." Shit. That word again. "I was a tomboy. He hated that. He wanted a ballerina, an English horseback-riding cellist. I tried. I talked the talk and walked the walk when it mattered, but then I would sneak out to ride bareback and play my cello freestyle."
"Do you still play?"
"Hmm? The cello. Oh. Yes." Although not lately. "I think it was money. He's always needed a rich life. His import and export business doesn't make enough to fund his lifestyle."
"Yes, I've seen that analysis in your reports."
"More like facts. Two plus two doesn't equal millions."
"Okay."
"He got involved in trafficking, and I stumbled across a room he used for processing." She placed her boots on the floor and rested her forearms on her thighs. "We're doing an informal infiltration first thing in the morning." Her smile was genuine. The doc would know this kind of thing. "That will give the backstabbing prick, Parker, enough time to get all patched up in the hospital."
"I'd like to join you."
"With Parker?"
"No, at your father's home."
Nickie threw up her arms and rolled her eyes. "You and the rest of the world. I don't have a warrant, Dr. Li. I'm going as a daughter who's showing her husband around her childhood home. It might not come across as such to a jury if I've got half of Northridge and a profiler on loan from the city with me."
