James Born - Shock Wave

“It was for the case agent.”

Camy narrowed her eyes. “I am the case agent.”

“The FBI case agent.” The woman took a stern tone with Camy. Watching her look at Jimmy Lail, Tasker wondered if she had a thing for the white shadow.

Camy came right back at her. “There was no FBI case agent. I tried, but the Bureau wouldn’t work the case with me.”

“I can’t be sure, but I thought someone in counterterror asked me to look at it. It doesn’t really matter, if you’ve got a suspect.” She looked around at the three agents’ faces and continued. “Shall we get down to business?”

Agent Quills pulled out some notes as they all sat around a cluttered round conference table. “My profile said that the person responsible for the bombing was a male, twenty-one to fifty-nine, white or possibly foreign-born, with a persecution complex resulting in a need to act out.” She looked around the table. “That sound like your suspect?”

Jimmy Lail said, “On the money, honey.”

Camy and Tasker exchanged looks. Then Camy said, “It sounds like every suspect I’ve ever arrested. Is that really all your profile consists of?”

“Profiling is not an exact science, nor is it easy.”

Camy said, “I’ll agree with the not-exact part.”

Tasker stepped in to keep it from going nuclear. “Can you tell us more about the motivation?”

“Not really. People who commit violent acts like this generally are acting on some type of urge or need to feel control. They’re simply acting out on immature emotions.”

Tasker said, “So our thirty-year-old suspect, who is white, fits your profile?”

Agent Quills replied, “To a T.”

“But so do I, and so does Agent Lail here.”

“Except for the psychological component.”

Tasker nodded, asking, “Would that component be readily apparent?”

“Only to a counselor or therapist working with the subject.”

“So how does this profile help a cop looking for the suspect in a case?”

“The profile matched your suspect, didn’t it?” She seemed quite satisfied.

“But it didn’t help us identify him.”

“But he matches it.”

“Yes, but it didn’t help find him.”

“Mr. Tasker, I could play word games here with you all day, but everyone knows you’d never accept anything anyone from the Bureau offered you in the way of assistance, so, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”

Now Camy piped up. “Like creating profiles for the gangs in Overtown. Let me help. Black male, twelve to sixty, doesn’t like the police.”

Agent Quills stood up and turned to Jimmy Lail. “Jim, perhaps you should show your friends the door. I’m sure they have some little crime to solve.” With that, she turned and marched into one of the small offices and shut the door.

Jimmy said, “She’s smart.”

Camy and Tasker just stared at him.

Sutter made Tasker and Camy drive over to South Beach to meet him in a little restaurant he liked off Collins. He couldn’t see the beach, but the food was seventy-five percent cheaper. He wanted them to come over the bridge because he’d spent the morning clearing his eyes and face of the pepper spray Alicia Wells and the cop had zapped him with the night before. This was the modern stuff that was easier to rinse away, but it still stung. To make matters worse, as soon as he had arrived home, around dawn, he had tried to relieve the effects by going into the ocean, for the first time in the three years he’d lived on South Beach. The salt water had aggravated the condition until he had finally parked himself in his shower and run cold water over himself until he shivered uncontrollably. Now only his red eyes burned as he sat in the booth, waiting for his partners. He saw them pull up outside in Camy’s Ford, appreciating the movement of Camy’s lithe little body. Tasker and the others might think she’s gay, but Sutter knew better. The little glances she stole at him. The red-faced anger he could cause. She was no dyke, and she had an eye for him.

He stood as they reached the booth.

“You up all night?” asked Tasker. Camy was silent as she slipped in next to Tasker.

“I was up and, no, wasn’t drinking.”

“You look like shit.”

“I ran into Alicia Wells.”

“Great, where is she? What’d she have to say?”

Sutter was quiet as he gathered his thoughts.

Camy said, “You did question her? Find out where she lives, didn’t you?”

“It’s a long story.”

Camy kept up the pressure. “Can’t be that long. What happened?”

He started slow, avoiding eye contact. “I saw her outside the Orion. She ignored me, and when I caught up, she, she…”

Camy said, “I can’t wait to hear this. She what?”

Sutter narrowed his eyes at Camy. “Back off, girl. I’m not happy about it, either. She gave me the slip.”

Tasker said, “Alicia Wells outran you?”

“After she pepper-sprayed me.”

There was ten seconds of dead silence, until both of his partners broke out in a wild fit of laughter. He waited, then said, “Are you done?”

That question was answered with more laughter. Suddenly, Sutter wasn’t hungry. He stood to leave, but Camy reached across the table, taking his hand. She squeezed it and said, “C’mon, Derrick, we’re just kidding. It’s funny. Stay and we’ll figure out where we’re going on this thing.”

Sutter sat back down, with Camy still holding his hand and wondered what thing she meant. This investigation or this thing between them. Either way, he was interested.

Daniel Wells was mad at himself as well as at the Big Rig Academy of South Florida. He’d just mangled another row of orange cones, but he’d also learned to accelerate smoothly and was cornering much better. That didn’t seem to matter to the teacher. After he’d paid for the second chance, the school had changed instructors on him. This guy, a big tree trunk with a gigantic wad of tobacco in his mouth, oddly named Baby, had bitched about everything from the weather to the cops that had whipped his ass at a bar a few nights before. Wells wasn’t sure if the change in the instructors was because they thought he needed a fresh perspective, like they’d told him, or because the other instructor was sick of him.

Wells had listened to the man brag about how it had taken four cops to stop him, then bitch about how they hadn’t let up once they had him cowed. He ended by saying, “Fuckin’ cops. Always around when you don’t need ’em.”

Wells had listened to this as he tried to concentrate on the course. He stopped the big truck and turned to his mountain of an instructor.

“That sucked,” said the man. “If we’d turned you loose with one of these over in Vietnam, we woulda won the damn war.”

“That’s why I’m here. Wanna learn.”

“Learn? Son, they’s some things you can learn and they’s some you can’t. You can’t learn to drive one of these babies.”

“But I need to.”

“No, son, you don’t. Ain’t that much money in driving, and there ain’t enough money to cover what you might do in one of these things.”

Daniel held back a smile, thinking, If you only knew.

The big man continued. “You seem like a smart fella. You could probably do anything. Get a big-ass lawn mower and start a landscaping business. You don’t need a big rig, and we don’t need people thinkin’ you learned to drive at our school.”

“But I paid.”

“And you done got your money’s worth, too. Now, unless you want to try an take it outta my hide, it’s time for you to skedaddle.”

Wells looked at the man’s earnest expression and opened the door to the big training vehicle with BIG RIG ACADEMY painted on the side. He slid out of the cab and walked away silently. He let a small smile escape as he pocketed the truck’s extra key he’d taken off the ring. There were three more keys, so no one would notice, and he had one more piece of his plan in place.