Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 136247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
“He was released, all right—over a month ago. Practically the same day his records were sealed. You don’t want to know what favors it took to breach that database. We found proof that someone altered the records and put an iron curtain around them on top of it. Faye and I will be babysitting for Enguard’s entire senior leadership until we’re grey.”
“Shit. Worse than I expected,” I growl. “He’s been up here weeks then?”
“It seems likely. Took us forever to get a facial match from Dallas confirming his presence. The security cameras there in rural North Dakota are fifteen years behind the times,” James snaps. “Listen, I’ve reached out to Section Chief Powers to fill him in on the latest. You need to—”
“Powers?” I echo, scratching my neck. “Shit, man, you went that high up the chain? I’m sure he knows I’ve been digging, seeing how I served under him years ago, but hell. If we’re going the official route, it must be bad.”
“Atrocious would be a better word for what we’ve found.” He pauses. “Did you have any inkling whatsoever that there’s a high-level insider involved?”
“Jake Pickett’s girl insisted he had a helper in law enforcement years ago, but you know what happened before we could ever pull it out of her,” I say, my head filled with grim possibilities.
The long silence on the other end of the line has the hair on the back of my neck standing up. I hear some kind of...muttering back and forth?
“James?”
“Sorry. I had to remind my idiot friend, Riker, that this isn’t idle chitchat. This is the only chance I’ll get to relay everything. Wheels are in motion, Quinn, and you don’t want to get trapped under them. Powers is in flight as we speak and he’s informing your local sheriff—”
“In flight?” I’m gobsmacked. “What, you mean here? To North Dakota?”
“Correct,” James clips back.
“What the—why?”
“Because our insider took the bait and revealed himself. For now, forget the details. I’ll explain later how a brilliant strategy I crafted with my boss, Landon—and Riker, fine—allowed us to spoof a trusted contact’s number. We texted his phone, he opened a crucial link, and he gave the right response—covering Bart Pickett’s ass. Ted Goode is well aware of what Pickett’s planning against you. He’s fully involved with the cartel the brothers did local distribution for, and he’s still tight with Bart Pickett to this day. We have every reason to believe Goode’s currently trying to set you up with false evidence. Pin his dirty deeds on you, Quinn, as the insider who’s helped the Pickett meth machine fly under the radar for so long.”
Boom.
There’s my missing piece of the puzzle, and it kicks like a mule-strike to the head.
Supervisor Goode.
Ted mother-fucker Goode.
That’s how Justin’s car was ambushed so perfectly, how Jake Pickett shot my partner and his turncoat girlfriend to pieces.
Goode was the only other person who knew Justin was transporting the woman to safety that day.
I never imagined he was the brains. He’d been a straight shooter, tough as nails, and played by the book almost to a fault. But he’d thrown me that day we had Jake Pickett for questioning, and now I know why.
He’d been helping that maniac, shoving a knife in our backs the entire time.
Fuck.
No wonder he’s kept in contact with me all this time.
No surprise he’s kept feelers on my old contacts with the Bureau, who innocently told him the minute I started asking around about Bat Pickett earlier this summer.
He’s known my every move. He’s been setting this up, egging Bat on, making me believe—son of bitch!
“He killed Justin Franklin. My partner—” I stop mid-sentence, not meaning to say it out loud.
I have to lay a hand against the wall to hold myself up.
I’m physically ill.
“I’m afraid so. When was the last time you spoke to Goode?” James asks.
“Weeks ago. Wait, hang on...”
Snarling, I punch up my texts and see one from roughly ten days ago, so bland I’d practically forgotten it. My vision turns red.
“Almost two weeks ago,” I say. “He texted, told me Bat was still in prison. 'All clear,' was all he said.”
Bull. Shit.
And I’d been fool enough to buy it, to believe him.
“He’s covered all his bases, making sure you can’t connect him to it. That’s why he reached out when he heard you’d grown concerned for your safety,” James says, confirming the worst.
If Goode wanted to get me bullet-spitting mad, mission accomplished.
Only thing I hate more than being played is being played by stone-cold killers.
“We’re not the only ones who were left in the dark. Powers commissioned an undercover team to revisit the killing of your partner, and they’ve uncovered their own suspicions about Goode’s involvement.”
“Thanks, James. Don’t know how I can ever pay you back. One of these days, you’re gonna bring the whole family up here to little old Dallas. I’ll show you how we party in North Dakota,” I say. “I’d better get off the horn. Gonna be a long night. Good thing I was already planning on staying up.”