I shake his hand. “You nerds are very handy, let no one tell you otherwise.” I leave the crime lab and take the elevator up to my office.
Jack and Sullivan are discussing the case about the cargo container of dead immigrants that was found a week ago. I sit down at my desk, and Agent Munroe grabs a chair and scoots up next to me. On his personal website, I see a lot of Anti-rich propaganda, little essays on how they are ruining society, and they are the cause of the economy tanking. Then there is one that sticks out.
The rich have caused as much a blight on humanity as organized religion; this will be the year that the rich will strangle on their own blood. I am the blade of justice that will set the wrongs right. I imagine a world not ruled by the rich, but by a system that is fair and just. If there are any wealthy people looking at this site, I have a message for you, your days are numbered for your day of reckoning is at hand, and you will feel the suffering you have afflicted upon the world.
“That’s a nice poem he wrote there,” Munroe comments with a sardonic tone.
“Yeah. But we both know, it’s just a bullshit front now.”
I scroll down, and there are pictures where he has been spying on the victims coming and going. One of them has Jason and his wife with their daughters at the ice cream stand on the beach. Jesus, he’s been spying on Jason’s family since we partnered up. I scroll down and see he’s been watching me as well, he has a picture of me leaving the police station and a recent one of me at Jason’s house on the night his family was murdered.
“He’s been keeping tabs on all of us.”
“Lobos, see if we can find anything in his emails.”
“Just about to do that.” I double click on his email tab, and there is one from Conroy and another from a man named Walter J Collins
“Who is Walter J Collins?”
Munroe glowers at the screen and sighs. “That would be America’s CIA director.”
I turn around. “Seriously?”
“It would be a hell of a coincidence if it wasn’t him. And considering you or I don’t buy into coincidences, I would say his ass is mine.”
“God, this case just keeps sinking deeper into the shit.”
She sighs. “It would seem so.”
Why couldn’t Drake just be your run of the mill psycho? I click on the email.
Great job on taking out Cala Sadir. You did America a great service. Don’t worry about the kids. Shit happens in war. I would also like to thank you for the things you’ve done for us overseas.
Walter J Collins.
My teeth clench my cheeks pulsate with anger. “I’m going to make this fucker choke to death on his own patriotism.”
“Then, we need to find Drake.”
I click on his albums and find a cabin sitting in the middle of the woods. Judging by the type of woods its looks like somewhere in Florida. Munroe’s cell rings, and a minute later, she hangs up. “We got a possible location for Drake. He made a call to this sister.”
“Where’d the call come from?”
“Jimmy’s Irish pub over on East 8th in Ybor. His sister is talking to someone from a cell. You’d think by now people would know their cells can be traced.”
“I’m guessing you don’t have a warrant to keep tabs on her phone calls?”
“I had a feeling he would contact Gemma sooner or later. A brother can’t help but protect his little sister. So no, I didn’t have a warrant, but my bosses don’t need to know that.”
Smart move. Especially now that people are trying to silence Drake and anyone else who is involved in this case.
“I’ll hitch a ride with you,” I say, throwing on my coat. “If we plan to get Drake, we got to move now because Drake is a target just like us. I wave at my captain to come over. “What is it, Devi?”
“Drake’s sister is in town, and they contacted each other, and Drake is currently at the Irish pub over on 8th in Ybor.” I turn to Munroe. “His sister’s location is where?”
“At a Gyro café on East Henderson Avenue, but she is heading to her brother.”
“Good. Lobos, you and Munroe, go and get his sister use her as leverage to gain his cooperation if you have to.”
Munroe nods. “Oh, don’t you worry, I plan to do just that.”
“Alright, let’s move,” I say.
Chapter 20
Weaving through rush-hour traffic, we get bogged down at a red light. “Son of a bitch! She exclaims in anger, punching her steering wheel.
“Goddamn it! We’re not going to intercept his sister like this.”
“I have a failsafe in play in case we can’t get to the sister in time. I have two agents at the bar hiding among the crowd.”
“You told your agents to keep their distances, I hope?”
“Of course. They’re not a batch of rookies I pulled from Quantico.”
We finally catch up to the sister and light her up with the sirens. She speeds up weaving through traffic down the two-lane street. “Get ahead of her and cut her off, Munroe.”
“Lobos, this is not my first car chase.”
“Really? Because you’re driving slower than my sister.”
She laughs. “Okay, honey. Hold on.” She slams her foot on the gas, and the car yanks me back in the seat. The sister swerves down an alley plowing through trash cans. We spin down an alleyway and see she has hit a dead end. We jump out of the car with our guns trained on her. “FBI! On the ground now!” Munroe orders.
The skinny brunette kneels with a hopeless look in her eyes. I move in
