Mariah Stewart - Dead End

“Not to me,” she assured him. “Now all you need is for them to tell you who.”

“Sooner or later, they will. I told you before that I really believe the answer is already there, in the evidence. It’s like a big puzzle. I just haven’t found the right way to fit the pieces together. But when I do…”

“When you do, you’ll have the key to the whole thing, from here to Santa Estela. I’m hoping I can help you with that. I was so excited this morning, after I got Connor’s message. I couldn’t wait to get into the office. Then of course I got there and realized that I had to wait for John. But this is going to come together soon. I can feel it.”

“God, I hope you’re right. If we can find this guy, this Orlando, maybe he’ll lead us to the next rung on the ladder.”

“How about the girls who were in the house? Were they able to tell you anything?”

“They’re all with social services right now. I won’t be able to talk to them until the morning, but I don’t expect them to know who’s running the operation. At least they should be able to tell us who they are and how they got here. We can take them back to their homes, get a lead on the kidnappers in their part of the world. The Bureau report should help us with that. It might take a while, but we can close down this little cottage industry. Maybe not permanently, and maybe only this little piece of it, but it’s something.”

“And then maybe you can find out who the murdered girls were.”

“I’m hoping so. Right now, we don’t know if these girls were from the same villages or even from the same country. But you’re right. Maybe soon we’ll be able to start tracing backward to find their homes.”

“That should make you feel a lot better.”

“I’ll feel better when I’ve got their killer-killers-in prison, awaiting trial.”

She started to say something, then heard the click on her phone.

“That’s your call waiting, Annie. Go ahead and take it. I’m going to try to get a little sleep tonight, get an early start in the morning.”

“Are you sure? I can let the call go into voice mail…”

“Go on and take it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” She paused, then clicked off his call to pick up the incoming. “Anne Marie McCall.”

“Annie? It’s Brendan.”

“Hey, Brendan, what’s up?”

“You still looking for a copy of those reports, the ones that have been missing from Dylan’s file?”

“Of course. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I’m not sure, but I might have found them.”

“Are you serious?” Her heart leaped in her chest. “Where? When?”

“Well, like I said, I’m not positive these are what you’re looking for, but they might be. I found them this afternoon, stuck in a file. A shooting out in Oakland the same day that Dylan was shot. I guess at some point the reports might have fallen out, and maybe someone just looked at the date and filed them in the first file that popped up with that incident date on it. Anyway, I meant to bring them home, but I left them in my briefcase, and wouldn’t you know, I left that locked in my office. I thought maybe I’d drop copies off tonight, but I have a tire going flat…”

“I’ll come for you. I can be there in fifteen minutes.” Annie didn’t wait for a response. She hung up the phone and grabbed her bag, marveling at her good luck that day. I should have bought lottery tickets today. First, I get a call from Connor with a tip that could lead to something on Evan’s case, and now this. If my luck holds, maybe I’ll get into the office and find that John is back and I can get my hands on that Santa Estela case.

She all but whistled all the way to Brendan’s house, a neat little bungalow set back on a narrow lot on a pretty street halfway between her apartment and the office. She parked in the drive and turned off the ignition, then followed the brick walk to the front door.

She rang the bell and waited for him to answer. When he did not, she rang it again, then a third time.

“Strange,” she muttered aloud. “He knew I was on my way…”

Annie pushed against the half-open door and called Brendan’s name. She stepped inside and called again. He stepped out of the kitchen, his cell phone to his ear. He waved to Annie to give him a minute, then walked toward the back of the house. At one point, he raised his voice, but quickly lowered it. When he came back into the living room, his phone had already disappeared into the pocket of his jacket. He smiled at Annie and apologized for not having let her in.

“Sorry. I was on the phone.”

“Hey, it happens. Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, just one second.”

Brendan left the room for a minute, then came back in, tucking something into his belt.

“Don’t trust my driving, eh?” she asked playfully.

“What?” He frowned.

“The Glock.” As her duties were primarily those of a profiler, Annie rarely carried a weapon, but she knew that many of the other agents could not step outside their homes without one. She rarely thought anything of it.

“Oh. I just…” He stood in the middle of the room, and for the first time since she arrived, she took a good look around. There were piles of newspapers, magazines, and mail on the floor around the sofa. An empty pizza box and several empty beer bottles stood on the coffee table.

“Brendan, is everything all right?” She turned to him.

“Sure. Fine. Why do you ask?”

“Whenever Dylan had something on his mind, he forgot to pick up after himself. I was just wondering if it was a family trait.” She tried to make a joke out of it, but she knew it fell flat and had sounded more like criticism than observation. “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound like your mother.”

“Oh, that.” He waved off the mess. “I started cleaning up earlier, didn’t get to finish. I’ve just been so busy lately, running from one job to the next, it seems-”

“Hey, I understand. We all have weeks like that.” She jingled her car keys. “Shall we go?”

He stared at her for a moment, then said, “Yeah, let’s do it.”

Brendan followed her out the front door and down the steps. They had just started down the walk when a man in a dark suit stepped out from behind a car parked in front of the house and called out.

“Brendan! Let her go!”

“Wha…?” Brendan grabbed Annie by the arm and held her protectively.

“Put the gun down, Brendan, and let her walk to me.”

Brendan stood stock-still.

“It’s no good, Brendan. Let her go!” The man was shouting as he came slowly up the walk, his gun drawn.

“Brendan…” Annie tried to twist away from him, but his grip on her right arm tightened. When she turned, she saw the gun in his hand. “Brendan, for God’s sake…”

“Luther, you bastard.” Brendan raised the gun, but before he could get a shot off, the man on the sidewalk fired twice, striking him in the chest.

Brendan crumbled to the ground, the gun still in his hand, and Annie screamed.

“Dr. McCall, are you all right?” the man asked anxiously.

He removed his glasses, and Annie recognized her savior.

“Luther,” she gasped. “What the hell…?”

“Just tell me you’re all right, that he didn’t hurt you.”

“No, no. But I don’t understand…”

Luther Blue knelt down next to Brendan’s body and sought a pulse. “He’s dead.”

“Oh my God… Brendan…” Annie’s knees began to shake.

“Come on, here, sit.” Luther led her gently to the steps and helped her to sit, even as he was calling for backup on his cell phone.

Annie began to sob. “I don’t understand…”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but he had his gun up to your back, and I was afraid he was going to kill you…”