“It’s our job,” Kenneth replied in a monotone. Bart just looked at him. “I hope he leaves soon so I won’t be asked to chase him anymore,” Kenneth said, holding out his hand. “I’m glad to see you got the captain bars,” he said, shaking Bart’s hand.

  “Heard you turned down lieutenant?” Bart asked.

  Kenneth nodded. “I’m staying in the trenches as long as I can. As a lieutenant, I won’t be nailing bad guys. Sergeant works for me, and the pay is alright.”

  “Well, I see why you haven’t gone to the FBI,” Bart said, waving his arm toward the major and Homeland agents.

  “Maybe one day,” Kenneth said, smiling. “Thank you for the help.”

  “Hey, you’ve helped us, and the chief hasn’t forgotten it, and neither have we,” Bart said.

  “Stay safe,” Kenneth said, heading toward Harry’s SUV as Bart waved and headed over to his officers.

  As Kenneth stopped beside him, Harry hung up his phone. “Trace is running. I’m going to take you home, and I want you to take tonight off then type up your formal report. I’ll be by the day after tomorrow to pick it up. Then, I want you to sleep for a day then come down to the Federal building,” Harry said. Too tired and confused to argue, Kenneth just nodded, walking around the SUV and climbing in the passenger seat.

  Laying the seat back, Kenneth started to fight off the gnawing feeling he was having for destroying evidence. He knew it wouldn’t help much, but the evidence would’ve helped some. Taking a deep breath, Kenneth knew he was already in for a penny in for a pound, so he would alter his report if it would help let the man get away. It wasn’t something new. Kenneth had played on the other side of the law himself before, and he was able to live with his actions. He could do it again.

  Chapter 4

  The next afternoon, Besseta was walking the campus at UCLA. She had asked around, giving lots of smiles, trying to find a person with the skills she needed now. If she’d had more stuff with her, she could do it and even thought about buying it and modifying it. In the end, she decided to recruit for her effort, and after she left yesterday watching Kenneth Terrell, she started looking. A lot of people directed her with a name: Jerold Kimble aka Hard Wire.

  After asking around, she finally walked into a student lounge in the science department and saw her target sitting with a group of people. All of them had laptops out, yelling loudly. Putting a smile on her face, Besseta walked over. “Jerold?” she asked, and a chubby kid with long hair and a stringy goatee looked up.

  “Who wants to know?” he asked.

  “I do,” Besseta told him.

  “I’m not doing homework or fixing your computer,” he said, looking back down at his laptop. “Who sent the troll?” he screamed, pushing buttons rapidly.

  “That’s not why I’m here,” Besseta said, rocking back and forth on her feet, swaying her small frame and smiling.

  Jerold let out a yell, tapping his keyboard rapidly. “Fuck you and your dragon, Ben!” he yelled then looked up. “So why are you here?”

  “I prefer to talk in private,” she said, and Jerold scoffed and went back to his game. “Fine, if you’re scared, I’ll offer the job to someone else,” she said, turning to leave.

  “Whoa, job? Like pay?” Jerold said, looking up, interested.

  She shook her head. “What else, silly?” she said with a big smile.

  “This better be worth it. I’m almost at level sixty-two,” Jerold said, closing his laptop and standing up. “Let’s talk over there,” he said, pointing at a table in the corner with nobody near. “How long have you been enrolled here? I’ve never seen you.”

  “Oh, I’m not,” Besseta said, sitting down with a smirk, hearing Jerold in her mind thinking about her ass.

  He dropped into the seat across from her. “Okay, so what’s the job, and how much does it pay?”

  “First, keep your voice down; it could get us in trouble. I don’t have my ghost laptop, so I can’t do it. If I build and program one, that would take time I don’t have. This job is illegal,” she said, and Jerold yawned.

  “So what is the job, and what does it pay?” he asked, unimpressed.

  Besseta slid a piece of paper over. “This is the name of an officer in the sheriff’s department. I want to know everything about him by tonight,” she said as Jerold took the paper and read it, still unimpressed.

  “Yeah, so what?” he said.

  “I want police reports, supervisor reviews, yearly psych reports, med reports, performance reviews, and financial reports,” she told him.

  Slowly shaking his head, he asked, “So little red, how much are you paying?”

  Reaching in her purse, she pulled out an envelope and opened it, showing the stacks of hundreds. “If you can do the job before dark, you get this: ten thousand dollars. Half if it’s done by tomorrow,” she said, putting the envelope up.

  Now, she had Jerold’s undivided attention. “Holy shit,” he mumbled. “How about one hour?” he asked with a grin.

  “I’ll throw in an extra thousand, and Jerold, make sure you aren’t traced for any reason. After I read this information, I’m destroying it,” Besseta said, and Jerold narrowed his eyes.

  “I’m not getting this information if it’s to hurt someone,” he said flatly.

  She shook her head with a small giggle. “No, he’s investigating for someone I know that had something happen to them, and I want to know how good he is and what type of man he is—basically if I can trust him.”

  “Give me your number,” Jerold said, standing up.

  Digging in her purse, Besseta pulled out a phone and slid it over. “It’s a disposable phone with a thousand minutes. The number to my phone is in it. When you have the information, call me, and we’ll meet on campus. Please put the information on a thumb drive,” she said as he picked the phone up.

  “Why didn’t you use a private detective?” he asked as she stood.

  “You came at the top of my list when I asked around,” Besseta said, reaching over and patting his arm. “I’ll stay on campus till dark, then the price goes down to half.”

  “Shit, don’t go far,” Jerold said, turning to leave.

  “Jerold, make sure you cover your tracks. The cops don’t like people hacking their database,” Besseta warned.

  “Never been caught yet and don’t plan on it now,” Jerold said, walking away.

  Feeling better and never hearing any doubt in her mind from Jerold, Besseta walked out and wandered the campus. Less than two hours later, her phone rang. “Hello,” she answered.

  “Hey, little red, where are you?” Jerold asked.

  “Near the library,” she said.

  “Meet you there. Don’t go inside. They record on those cameras,” he said, hanging up.

  Feeling much better with her choice, Besseta headed to the library. It wasn’t long before she spotted Jerold casually strolling over. She walked over and held out her hand. “Take my hand, and walk with me.”

  “Done this before, huh?” Jerold asked, taking her hand and smiling.

  She nodded. “A few times,” she said, and they started slowly walking. “Any problems?”

  “If this guy is investigating a friend, it’s a homicide. If your friend lost someone, they are as good as caught. If it’s your friend that killed someone, they are going away for a long time,” Jerold said, pulling out a flash drive and palming it to her. “If you get caught with this, don’t use my name because the computer I used is now in pieces.”

  “Very good, Jerold,” she said, pulling his arm as she stopped so he faced her. “Put your arms on my shoulders.”

  “I wanted to keep this professional,” he said, grinning. In her mind Besseta heard, My God, she is so hot. Wonder what she fucks like? Besseta shook her head, smiling. Typical boy, she thought, pulling out the envelope and grabbing his hands off her shoulders, forcing it in his hand.

  “Yes, let’s keep this professional,” she said, smiling. “You do good work, so I threw in an extra grand. Let’s stop by that post, and you can count it.” Jerold smiled at that and stopped behind the post, grinning as he thumbed through the stack of bills. “If I ever need your services again, may I call?” she asked as Jerold looked up with a goofy grin.

  “Shit, I’ll let you break my Star Wars and Spawn figures,” Jerold said, shoving the envelope in his pocket with a smile across his face. “Tell you what, little red. You need me, text the phone you gave me. It might be a while, but I’ll answer.”

  “Thank you, Jerold,” she said, patting his arm again. I wonder if she puts out? Besseta heard in her mind. “Jerold, let’s be professional,” she said, and the smile fell off his face as he blushed. Reaching up, Besseta patted his cheek and walked away, calling a cab as the sun touched the horizon.

  Returning to her apartment, Besseta grabbed her laptop and put the flash drive in. She was shocked to see the hundred gigabyte drive was almost full. “Well, this may take a while,” she said, getting comfortable on the couch. Thinking better of it, she got up and grabbed a legal pad then sat back down.

  Not moving from the couch, she sat going over the information, taking notes until sunlight came through her window the next morning. Setting the computer aside, she looked over her notes, shaking her head.

  Detective Sargent Kenneth Terrell, the youngest member ever in the sheriff department to make detective, highest case closed rate and conviction rate ever noted in the sheriff department. SWAT certified, thirty-nine awards, liaison to the FBI on six different occasions and now on current assignment with Justice Department. Excellent health, works out every day. Never married and no children.

  While in first semester of college for pre-med, mother, father, and sister were killed in home invasion. Case never solved. Changed major to criminal justice and psychology, Master’s degrees in both. Associate’s degrees in computers and physical fitness. Well-liked in the department and other agencies. Pilot, fixed wing, multiple engines, and helicopter. Speaks four languages. Hobbies: working on cars, reading, and hiking.

  Psychologist note dated this year: “Detective Terrell lives for the job. Only relative is an aunt from mother’s side, no contact for last four years. No relationships and doesn’t seem interested in finding a companion. Currently still has two dogs, pugs, he calls his family. No signs of depression or anxiety. No change from last eval.”

  Besseta threw the notepad down. “Shit, I’m glad he’s not really after me,” she said, stretching out. Then, an idea hit her. She now knew who his friends were. Pulling her laptop up, she almost started hitting keys and paused. “Whoa, that would be stupid,” she said, closing the computer.

  She jumped up and changed, calling a taxi. Soon, she was sitting in another internet café with her notepad, searching social media sites. None had Kenneth, but she found his friends and their wives. From the pictures, she knew Mickey Lopez and his family were real close to Kenneth. Satisfied with her information, Besseta stood, noticing it was noon. “Wonder where he’s at now?” she mumbled, walking outside, thinking she wanted to meet this man.

  As Besseta was walking out of the café, Kenneth was finishing his four-hour briefing to a room full of federal agents from sixteen different agencies and the Army. Sitting at the head of the long table was the associate director of the FBI. “Any questions?” Kenneth asked.

  Everyone looked around the table as the director laughed. “Kenneth, as always, an excellent report. Sure you haven’t changed your mind about joining our team?”

  Giving a small smile and gathering his stuff, he said, “No sir, I’m happy where I’m at. Still have unfinished business here.”

  “Will you sit down with us?” the director asked.

  “Sure,” Kenneth said, moving his bag to the floor. “You’re paying me for the rest of the month, so you’re the boss,” he said, getting laughs from most in the room.

  “Agent Bentley, what of the computer search Kenneth recommended?” the director asked.

  Harry looked down at his notepad. “Sir, we had a hit from an internet café on the south side but no video surveillance. Agents talked to several regular customers, and they don’t recall anyone out of the ordinary, and we checked all the regulars,” Harry reported. Hearing this sent excitement around the table.

  “Really, an actual lead on this?” the director asked.

  “Yes sir. Greg Severs’ DMV record was hacked then the California Revenue Service along with several background check sites. Whoever did it passed the firewalls with ease,” Harry answered.

  “Any other ideas, Detective Terrell?” the director asked.

  “Well, as soon as the next attack occurs, start the computer search sooner to see if we can find someone who at least catches a glimpse of our suspect. I can assure you it won’t be the giant of the group but the smaller one,” Kenneth replied, not really wanting to say more.

  “Let’s monitor the DMV databanks for a breach?” Agent Larson offered.

  Kenneth shrugged. “You can, but the first attack, they didn’t search it. They used the courthouse to track the fake company.”

  “Well, it’s worth a shot,” Larson snapped.

  “So is playing spin the bottle,” Kenneth snapped back, getting a lot of snickers. “You must hunt your prey, not hope you get lucky,” he tried to explain.

  “Any other ideas?” the director asked, leaning over the table and resting his elbows on the surface, clasping his hands together in anticipation.

  Letting out a long sigh, Kenneth offered, “I have a few, but as you know, I like to think them through before investing time and effort into them.”

  “I know; that is one of your strongest suits, which a supervisor loves, but lay a few out. We have the manpower and resources available now,” the director almost demanded.

  Stalling for time, Kenneth reached in his bag and pulled out a small notebook. “I think the best area to concentrate on is going over violent attacks on smaller profile criminals to see if we come across any connections.”

  “We’ve been doing that,” Major Kirk snapped.

  Tired of the major’s shit and disappointed in himself, Kenneth looked at the director. “Sir, if I’m disrespected by the major one more time, I request to be let go of this assignment or allowed to take him outside and beat the shit out of him!” Kenneth shouted. The director and everyone jumped back.

  The director turned to the major. “Major Kirk, leave now, and tell the army to send someone with a sense of professional pride. You are hereby relieved of this team,” the director snapped.

  “I’m military. You can’t order me around.”

  “Special Agent Bentley, if Major Kirk isn’t out of this building in ten minutes, arrest him as an enemy combatant, and have him flown to a detention facility for questioning!” the director shouted, standing up.

  “Oh, it would so be my pleasure,” Harry said, standing and smiling.

  Seeing the joy on Harry’s face, Major Kirk jumped out of his chair, running for the door. Yanking the door open, he took off down the hall in a full run. The director picked up a phone, hitting the intercom button. “Doris, call General Polenta, and tell him to send an officer here that doesn’t have his head shoved up his ass, and I want you to tell him those exact words,” the director said in an icy tone.

  “Yes sir,” a small voice sounded over the intercom.

  Sitting back down, the director looked at Kenneth. “Detective, I’m truly sorry about that. I hope you accept my apologies.”

  “You didn’t do anything, sir, so you have nothing to be sorry for,” Kenneth said, slightly shaken from the threat the director used.

  “You were saying look for other crimes,” the director said, and Kenneth didn’t know if it was a question or not, so he just nodded. “Well, we’ve done that and haven’t found any connection.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, and I don’t mean to be rude when I say you missed some,” Kenneth said.

  “What, here?” the director asked, and Kenneth nodded. “What did we miss?”

  “Three days before the child snuff men were killed, a small-time hood was killed. That alone isn’t anything. His head was cut off, and something was shoved through his chest. That added isn’t much, but he was also under investigation for two unsolved murders. Now, all three of those make my point: We are missing some.” Everyone stared at him.

  “How did you come to this?” the director asked.

  “Going over homicides in a set timeline as I was going off the mountain Harry—oh sorry, Agent Bentley—left at my house, I pulled up the homicide report. Seeing this one, I called the detective over the case and talked to him, asking him to send me the information he had. The crime scene felt like hate, director—not at the man but his being free,” Kenneth said.

  “How does this help us?” the director asked.

  “That’s what I’m piecing together, Director. Our database wasn’t hacked, so they found this man’s crime out some other way. I’ve found two others as well. Then, I had a captain who joined us from Chicago make a few calls for me. There, the group operated for seven weeks, leaving after attacking the party at a local hood’s home. I found twenty different targets. Six don’t have bodies, just missing person reports,” Kenneth said, stopping to drink a glass of water, wishing the director would shut up. He didn’t want to help, and he knew if he kept going, they would catch this group.

  Everyone around the table talked to people next to them. “Gentlemen, please,” the director called, and silence followed. “So you think you can build a pattern how they are tracking them?” the director asked with a hopeful smile.

  “It’s possible, sir. I would start here and research everywhere the victim’s crimes were listed from newspapers to the police website. Then see if I could build a picture. If I can, then the next city they go to, we can catch them,” Kenneth offered, feeling sick.

  Excited, the director jumped up. “How long do you think this would take?” he asked, grinning.

  “Longer than I can stay here, but I can work on it during my time off,” Kenneth said.

 

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