military, Nathan thought. This guy would never make it as an undercover. Their new arrival identified himself as Special Agent Paul Andrews. He looked Nathan over from head to toe before smiling and offering his hand.
Located in the northeast area of Fresno in a mixed neighborhood of residential and commercial properties, Amber Sheldon’s apartment was part of a larger complex of identical structures laid out in pairs, back-to-back, with parking on both sides. Second-story walkways ran their entire lengths, accessed by concrete prefab stairs on each end. Several hundred yards to the north, the metal river of Highway 41 could be heard, but not seen. Andrews parked the sedan at the west end of the buildings where it wouldn’t be noticed from the target’s apartment. According to the NCIC file, Sheldon lived in apartment number 46.
“If she’s not here and has a roommate, we’re blown,” Henning said. “It’s fair to assume the roommate will call her and tell her the FBI came knocking on her door.”
“We don’t have much choice,” Nathan said. “We don’t have time for a prolonged stakeout. If she’s not here, we’ll ask where she works, that way the roommate will think we don’t know.” Nathan turned toward Andrews. “Do you know where Pete’s Truck Palace is?”
“It’s off Highway Ninety-nine, about twenty miles south of the city.”
“Okay,” Henning said. “It’s probably better if only two of us knock on her door. Andrews, you cover the stairwells and watch our backs in case the Bridgestones are around. Shoot first and ask questions later.”
“You got it.”
They followed a concrete sidewalk paralleling the building, then cut across the grass over to the west stairs. Apartment 46 was on the second floor. This had to be a nicer neighborhood because a big-wheel tricycle, along with several children’s bikes, were leaning against the building, unlocked. A smattering of litter was present, nothing serious enough to suggest it was a lowlife establishment. Licking its paws, a calico cat sat on the bottom step of the stairwell. She squinted in friendship as they moved past her. The windows on either side of Sheldon’s door were screened by closed curtains. Nathan and Henning paused and listened to the buzz of a muffled television set.
Nathan kept his voice just above a whisper. “Bridgestone could be in there. I’ll go left, you go right.”
Henning nodded and grabbed the butt of his gun. Keeping to the side of the door, he knocked twice. The sound of the television went silent, followed by a forceful, “Who is it?”
“FBI, ma’am. We’re just here to ask you a few questions. No one’s in any trouble, okay?”
The curtains parted, revealing a slightly overweight, dark-haired woman in her late teens or early twenties. Her yellow tank top revealed more than necessary.
“My mom’s got nothin’ to do with that man no more.” From what Nathan could hear through the window, Amber Sheldon’s daughter had retained most of her southern drawl.
“May we come in, please?” Henning asked.
“Y’all got some ID?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Henning held up his FBI badge.
“Lemme see your gun too. All you FBI guys carry guns, right?”
“That’s affirmative, ma’am.” Henning pulled his Windbreaker open.
“Okay, just a sec.”
They listened to the deadbolt click back and the slide chain being removed from its slot. The door opened and the smell of cinnamon greeted them.
Gun drawn, Henning rushed into the room and pivoted to the right.
“Hey,” the girl protested. “What the hell y’all doing?”
Nathan dashed into the kitchen and checked behind the counter. “Clear.”
Henning checked the bathroom, a hall closet, and both bedrooms. “Clear,” he called and returned to the living room. “I’m sorry for doing that, ma’am, but we had to be sure you weren’t being held against your will. We’re looking for a very dangerous man.”
“You could’ve just asked me.”
Both thinking the same thing, Nathan and Henning exchanged a glance.
“I apologize again, ma’am,” offered Henning.
Nathan surveyed his surroundings. Although the living room wasn’t a complete mess, it could’ve been neater. Some clothes were strewn on the furniture here and there, and a few dishes were out of place, but overall, it looked reasonably presentable. Nathan watched her freeze when she took in his face.
“What the hell happened to you?” she asked.
She whipped her waist-length hair to the side. Along with the tank top, she wore blue jeans-tight in all the wrong places-and fuzzy pink slippers. Her ankles were swollen. She introduced herself as Janey “not Jane” Sheldon.
Henning asked if her mother was expected anytime soon.
“No, and I don’t know where she is.”
He didn’t ask you that, Nathan thought.
“Does she have a cell phone?”
“Hardly, we can barely pay the rent around here. They just raised it on us by fifty bucks.”
“We really need to talk with her.”
Janey’s face clouded. “She’s a good mom and all, but she’s got a problem, you know… With drinking.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Is there some place she goes regularly?”
She cocked her head, “Probably, but it isn’t around here. I’ve already looked in all the close places.”
Nathan watched her body language closely as Henning continued. “Has anyone called her lately?”
“You mean that dangerous man you mentioned?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I can’t say it was him for sure, but she did get a call the other night. She was upset afterward, got really drunk, and passed out on the floor right about where you’re standing.”
“Did you hear any of the call?”
“Not really, I was watchin’
Nathan took a closer look at Janey’s eyes. Piecing pale blue. He ran the calculation of her age through his head.
“What time does she go to work?”
“Eight at night. She works the graveyard shift.”
“Does she usually come back here before going to work?”
“Sometimes. Not always, though.”
Henning turned to Nathan. “Anything more?”
“That dangerous man is your father.”
Henning outwardly flinched at Nathan’s comment.
Janey narrowed her eyes, disgust stealing over her face. “I think you should get out.”
“You’re a lousy liar, Janey.”
“I said get out.”
Nathan took a step forward. “And if we don’t?”
“I’ll call the police.”
“We are the police.”
“I’ll still call.”
Nathan took another step toward her. “That’s going to be rather difficult after I’ve broken your jaw in three places.” He quickly scanned the room for a phone, which was in the kitchen.
“Listen, asshole. You can’t come in here and threaten me like this.”
Nathan spoke over his shoulder to Henning. “Why don’t you wait outside?”
Henning opened his mouth to respond, but hesitated, not sure what to do. “Yeah, I guess maybe I better,” he said. The FBI agent stepped through the door and closed it behind him.
When they were alone, Janey glanced at the phone behind Nathan. Her lower lip trembled when she spoke. “What do you want from me?” She was close to tears.
“The truth,” Nathan said. He moved between Janey and kitchen, trapping her in the living room. She crossed her arms over her chest as a tear rolled, but said nothing.
“It’s like this, Janey. I believe you about your mother having a drinking problem, and I believe your life has
