Hidden Trial (Hidden Alliance Book 1), page 2
“Not that one. The other one.”
The guy made a face, then pulled a small gun from under the bottom of his pant leg. He threw it toward Will, and it skidded along the ground.
After kicking the gun away, Will went to the container and opened it. With the doors wide open, the light revealed a line of televisions that took up most of the space at the front.
“Televisions, huh?” They were a generic brand. “Not even a good cover.” He walked inside and dragged a couple of big ones out the door to make more room. Behind them were cardboard boxes. Not what he’d hoped to find, but that didn’t mean they weren’t in there.
“Hello?” he called out, his voice muffled by the boxes. “Hello? Anyone in here?” Not even a muffled scraping could be heard. There was no life inside.
He lifted his head and closed his eyes, then kicked a box, breaking it. A cereal box fell out. Will ripped it open, spilling the granola on the floor along with several small bags of a white substance.
He stomped back outside. “Drugs? That’s what’s in there?”
“I didn’t know that was there. I swear. I thought we were transporting TVs and cereal.”
“TVs and cereal.” Will shook his head. “I hope your lawyer has a better defense than that. Listen, I don’t actually care about the drugs.”
“You don’t?”
“No. That’s not why I’m here. Is there any more to this shipment that hasn’t arrived yet?”
“No. This is it. That’s the only container we got. We were just here waiting for the truck that would transport it.”
Will squeezed the bridge of his nose. It would have been better if he could have questioned Muscles. This guy obviously was at the bottom of the food chain. But even fleas get a bite of the big dog.
He prayed constantly for a break. Maybe this could be it. God, please let there be more.
“I can tell you’re smart.” Will paced in front of the car. “You’re the only one left uninjured, and that takes guts.”
“Does it?”
“Sure. If you’re going to survive in this business, you need to know how to survive, right?”
“I guess.”
“You know what other smart thing you can do?”
“What?”
“I’m going to call the cops.” Will didn’t want the attention a bust like this would bring, so he’d give it to the local police and let them take all the credit. “I can promise you they won’t be as forgiving as I am. But if you come clean with me now, I might let you go.”
“Come clean about what?”
“There are a lot of drugs in there.”
“Are there?” Will gave him a look, and he folded. “Yeah. There are. But they didn’t tell me how much. I swear.”
“What is it? Cocaine?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. And where’s the rest?”
“I told you, man. That’s it.”
Will pulled his gun again. “You sure?”
“Yes.” The guy’s voice cracked. “I swear. That’s all there is. Please don’t shoot me. If there was more, I’d tell you. I promise.”
“What about future shipments?”
“I don’t know. They only tell me one job at a time.”
“Okay.”
“You gonna let me go?”
“Nope.”
“But you said—”
“I said I might. And you gave me nothing I didn’t already know.” It wasn’t what he’d been hoping for. It hadn’t been what he’d been praying for over the last decade.
Turning his phone on, he watched the screen while it found reception again, and his phone dinged with messages. Six missed calls from Maddison.
“Maddy, Maddy, Maddy. Always keeping tabs on me.” He hadn’t told her about his extracurricular activities. She wouldn’t like him working a side job while they already had one. When they’d first met, he’d thought she’d be the rogue, but it turned out she was much more of a team player than him. Maybe it was because she was a twin. She never said much about her sibling besides that his name was Charlie. Will was used to fending for himself after growing up in foster homes. He didn’t know what it was like to have a brother or sister besides the one person he’d allowed himself to grow close to. She was the one person whose loss set the course for the rest of his life. She was the reason he was here tonight.
He listened to her messages, then called her, but it went to voicemail. “Sorry, Maddy. Personal stuff I had to take care of. I’m back on the scene now. Call me.”
Then he made the call to the police and waited for their arrival. If they were lucky, Billy and his gang would turn up and give them a couple more arrests, although that was unlikely. They’d sniff out the police before they got close.
“I think he’s dead,” the guy said about Campbell, who was slumped over with his eyes closed.
“Maybe. He a friend of yours?”
“Naw. Met him a couple of times. That’s it. He’s actually kind of rude.” He looked down at Campbell and shifted away from him.
“What’s your name?”
“They call me Skipper.”
“Skipper, huh? You own a boat?”
“I hate boats. I got thrown from one once. Almost drowned.”
“Makes sense.” The police were on their way, so he had one last shot to find even the smallest thread of a lead.
“That’s a lot of drugs in there.”
“I know.”
“The police are going to take you in and ask you questions about who you work for and what you know. They’ll squeeze you.”
“I know the drill. But it’s like I told you. I don’t know anything. I don’t know where they get the drugs from, and I don’t know where they go.”
“Maybe no one told you directly, but you must have heard something. I won’t tell anyone it was you who snitched, and you’ll get to go free now. Otherwise, you’ll spend the rest of your life in prison, and you’re too young for that. So come on. Tell me what you know.”
“All I can tell you is there aren’t any more drugs with this shipment. This is it. I wasn’t lying.”
“What about human trafficking? What do you know about that?”
Skipper paled. “I don’t know anything about that. I only help with the drugs.”
Will stiffened. “But you know something.”
“No. Nope. I don’t know anything about that stuff. I swear.”
“Five minutes ago you knew nothing about the drugs.”
“Please. I’ve told you everything.”
“I want to know about the people that are being shipped in containers like these.”
“I—No. I don’t know.”
“I could shoot you in the knee if it would help jog your memory.”
Skipper’s body sagged. “Please don’t do that. Please.” He groaned. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”
“No one will know it was you. Just tell me what you know.”
Skipper shook his head, and Will dropped onto a knee, grabbing him by the shirt. He pressed the gun to his head. “Tell me!”
“No,” Skipper sobbed. “Please. If I say anything, they’ll know.”
“No, they won’t.”
“They will. They know everything. And you know what they’ll do to me? Those guys are nuts. This drug stuff is a walk in the park.”
“You’d rather go to prison?”
“At least I’ll be alive in prison. If I tell you about that stuff, I’m as good as dead. I don’t want to die.”
Police sirens broke the still night air, and Skipper let out a moan of relief.
“I’m sorry, man. I’ll take my chances in jail. And if I were you, I’d leave it alone.”
“I can’t.”
Will’s phone rang as the first police car pulled through the gate. It was his boss.
“Sir?”
“Where are you?”
“Nowhere important, why?”
“It’s about Agent Rochedale. There’s been an incident.”
“Maddy?”
“Yeah.”
“Is she hurt? I called her. I couldn’t get through.”
“She’s alive, but she’s in the hospital. It’s bad.”
Will’s stomach squeezed in guilt. She’d needed him, and he hadn’t been there for her. “What happened?”
“I’ll debrief you when you get here.”
“I’m on my way.”
Chapter 3
Charlotte shot up in bed, startled from a dream she couldn’t remember. Her alarm was chiming and must have been what woke her, but the sick feeling remained.
Her arm was dead from sleeping on it, so when she reached for her phone to silence the sound of tinkling bells, her hand wouldn’t cooperate.
Finally, she got her fingers working and shut it off before hauling a pillow over her head while the cobwebs of sleep cleared.
She’d be late if she didn’t get moving, but it was only by sheer willpower that she pushed back the blanket and went for a shower.
As she stood under the hot water with her face directed toward the ceiling, she tried to decide if she was glad it was Sunday or not. Her church was great, and it was always better for her to go than not, but the last month had been hard. She’d struggled, not with church itself or the people there, not even with her faith; it was more the general monotony of everything.
She trusted God, but she wondered about where He had placed her and whether it was His will that she remain there. She fought against the hope that He’d change things up a bit, but she’d been a Christian long enough to know not to bother arguing the benefits of adjusting her circumstances. He’d make the most out of whatever she faced, even if it was boredom.
But that didn’t stop her from indulging in these thoughts now and then, and they always brought her low. They were usually followed by a vague sense of shame because she had nothing to complain about. She was safe here in the picturesque town she called home. It was big enough that you didn’t know everyone’s business but small enough to be cozy. Still…what was right a year ago now felt like an itchy sweater. It protects you, but you’re not comfortable wearing it.
The hot water streamed over her face, and she reminded herself that she’d done what was necessary to keep the people most important to her safe. God had blessed her situation by giving her a comfortable little house with a recording studio built in so she could work from home.
Her work was the one thing she hadn’t had to completely give up, even though she’d had to find new clients after changing her name. She had made some good friends here but wouldn’t consider any of them to be close. It had been a while since she’d connected with anyone, which suited her fine most of the time.
But no matter how much she focused on gratitude, the yearning for more wouldn’t abate.
The times she prayed God would orchestrate a change, she would sense His gentle hand settle upon her as if to say, “Stay put. You’re right where I want you.” She didn’t want His guidance to grate on her, but it did.
After her shower, she went through her closet from one side to the other and then back again, unable to settle on anything. The unremembered dream she’d woken up from had left her uneasy, and a melancholy had set in, causing her entire wardrobe to become unsuitable.
“You want me to stay where I am, God?” She pushed a section of shirts left that she’d just pushed right. “I can do that. I can lie in bed all morning and skip church.” She was acting like a sulky little girl. Scrunching up her face in a grimace of defeat, she grabbed her trusty silk blouse. She may wear it a lot, but at least she’d be comfortable.
“Besides,” she said as she thrust her arms through the sleeves. “Mrs. Graves wears that same sweater every week. I can wear the same shirt.”
After a breakfast of dry toast—she’d forgotten to buy more butter while she was out yesterday—she got stuck again after getting into her car.
“It would be so much easier to go back inside.” But then her thoughts went to her mom, and she couldn’t bring herself to pull her key from the ignition.
She looked in her rearview mirror and focused on the trees that lined the street. It was one of the reasons she’d picked this house. The branches hung high over the road like a canopy and made for a stunning drive to and from home.
“Thanks, God. Thank you that I get to live here. I know I ask you for more, but I never tire of the trees.”
She started her car, and a text message came through.
Where are you?
It was Maureen. She was in charge of the drinks, and Charlotte had volunteered to bring cups.
Another message followed.
Don’t forget the cups.
She had. And she’d promised Maureen she’d bring them early. The time on the dash reminded her she was going to be late.
She squeezed her eyes closed, took a breath, then put her car in reverse.
“Get over yourself,” she grunted as she lifted her foot off the brake and backed out of the driveway. She hated to be rushed but could appreciate that the frantic trip to the grocery store would be an excellent distraction from her woes. Rushing to church was just what she needed to get her mind off her own disappointments.
Charlotte’s fingers drummed against her leg as she bent over to scan the unit prices of the plastic cups. She was in a hurry, but she wanted the best deal. Then the sick feeling from her dream pushed back into her thoughts, and she straightened. It was still nagging her. She rubbed her stomach, and a prickle of fear ran up her arms, but it was impossible to identify and made no sense.
She looked up and down the empty aisle. Once she was at church and around people, it would go. It was too easy to get stuck inside her head when she was alone.
She snatched up four packs of twenty-five cups and headed for the checkout. She’d get herself through this day in a good mood if it killed her.
“Oh!” a nurse howled in alarm when Will careened around the corner, almost slamming into her.
He gripped both her arms, steering her around so he could get past her. “Sorry. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
She gave him a scolding look, but he didn’t give her a chance to say anything before he was off again.
Around the next corner, he saw Special Agent in Charge Colin Turner speaking with a doctor.
“Hey,” Will said, joining them. “How’s she doing? Any change? Can I see her? Is she going to be okay?”
“Agent Fitler,” Turner said. “Dr. Peterson was filling me in.”
“I’ve got to see to another patient. But I’ll be by later,” the doctor said.
“Thanks.” Turner pulled Will aside. “I’ll tell you what, Agent Rochedale is one lucky lady.”
Will let out a breath. “So she’s okay.”
“More or less.”
“What’s that mean?”
“She’s better than they expected. When they brought her in, it looked bad.”
“Do you know what happened?”
“I haven’t spoken with her yet. She’s recently come out of surgery. From what we can tell, she was very badly beaten up. The only reason we found her was an anonymous phone call to 911. She might not have made it otherwise.”
“Where was she?”
“The roof of a building.”
“On a roof?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t know why?”
“No. Like I said, I haven’t spoken to her yet. Forensics are going over it now, but so far, they’ve found nothing.”
Will ran his hand through his hair as he leaned against the wall. “But she’ll recover.”
“Eventually. She’ll be out of action for a good long while. The doctor said she’s got a long, hard road ahead of her.”
Will chuckled to release some tension. “You know Maddy. She’ll probably be walking out of here in a week.”
Turner frowned. “I wish that were true. She has two broken legs, a few cracked ribs, and a concussion. They thought her back was broken too. She was lucky. Whoever did this to her went to town.”
Will blinked at the floor, attempting to clear his head. Letting anger get the better of him wouldn’t help Maddy. “And you don’t know what she was working on?”
“No. You guys have been working solely on your current job for close to a year, so there’s nothing recent, unless you think your cover has been blown.”
Will scrubbed a hand across his mouth. “I hope not. But even if it was, they wouldn’t have let her live. If Antonio knew who we were, we’d both be dead by now. This has to be something else. Personal maybe? Someone got out of prison and wanted to pay her back?”
“We’re looking into it. But listen, Will, if you think your cover is still intact, I want you to continue. We don’t want to lose this guy when we’re so close.”
“I understand your concern for that assignment, but I want to find who did this to her.”
“I’ve got my top guys on it. You’re too close, anyway. Focus on what you can, and once Maddy’s recovered a bit, she can still help. She’ll just have to do it from a hospital bed.”
“Sir—”
Turner put a hand up to stop him. “You and I both know that if she doesn’t have an assignment to work on, she’ll go crazy being stuck in bed. She’ll be on painkillers so she won’t be as sharp as usual, but let her feel like she’s helping. Give her enough to keep her mind occupied.”
Will’s face was stony. Turner was right, but he didn’t like being sidelined on the investigation into her attack. “Yes, sir. Can I see her?”
“Yeah. The doctor has given us the all clear to visit.”
The two men entered the room, and Will tried hard to keep his face neutral when he saw Maddy. Her face was a lumpy mass of bruises, and one of her legs was lifted in traction with a cast that went from her toes to her hip. He wouldn’t have known it was her if her name hadn’t been written on the wall above her bed.
A nurse was recording her vitals. She looked up at the two men and scowled.
“Don’t worry,” Turner said. “We’re in here with the doctor's permission.”
“Okay. But make it quick if you can.”
