Agent of Time Read online

  After the morgue, MacGregor had insisted on fast-food again, then coming straight back to the motel. The upside was that he’d asked Stella to drive, so he could start eating in the car. As a result, she still had the keys to the Ford.

  She’d already reviewed the files from Detective Briggs and she had a head start on notes for her reports, but the van details still bothered her. She mulled over the case for a while, then tried going to sleep, but her mind wouldn’t let her. After forty minutes of tossing and turning, she gave up. With the TV broken and nothing else to think about, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to distract herself. She dressed in jeans and a comfortable sweater, then pulled her jacket on as she headed for the car.

  When she got to the site of the van crash, she found the scene vacant. She pointed the headlights at the strangely undamaged power pole and climbed out to have a closer look. She walked all the way around it, scanning all sides, then pressed a fingernail into the wood and stripped away a sliver. There seemed to be nothing unusual about the pole. Certainly no reason it should have miraculously survived being struck by a van.

  A uniformed officer was parked near the end of the block. After Stella climbed back into the car, she pulled up next to him and flashed her badge. “Hey, you know where they took the van from the crash?” She jotted down the address when he gave it to her and rolled on.

  The impound was a sprawling, fenced-in lot that took up an entire city block. Cruising by a locked gate, Stella caught sight of the van sitting alone at the end farthest from the entrance. She parked the Crown Victoria on a side road and walked to the security gate. She had to ring a bell. The security guard showed up a few minutes later and stared at her credentials for a while, then at her. “Never seen a girl FBI agent before,” he said. “Don’t the feds usually wear suits and ties?”

  “Not tonight,” Stella replied.

  It took him roughly an eon to get the gate open, but finally it yawned wide.

  “Wonders never cease,” she muttered.

  She did a careful walkaround of the van when she reached it, jotting notes. When she opened the back, she needed her flashlight to see anything. Climbing inside, she swept the beam over the cushion to the sliver of wood she had spotted before. The tiny tear in the fabric looked like it had been there a while and she could see how the team removing the body wouldn’t have paid it much attention. She donned a glove and removed the splinter of wood from the cushion. Only it wasn’t a splinter. It was a matchstick. It was unburned but looked like it might have been chewed on. There were indentations on one end that could be teeth marks. She retrieved an evidence bag from her jacket pocket and tucked it inside.

  She swept her light over the rest of the van, noting the dent in the side of the panelling where the victim must have impacted the wall. There was nothing else that caught her eye. She climbed back out of the van and closed the doors, then made her way slowly back to the guard shed.

  “So, FBI, huh?” the security guard said. “How do I get into that?”

  Stella did her best to keep her responses short, but the guard must have been bored, or perhaps lonely. He managed to keep up the conversation for more than ten minutes, pestering her about the job and what kind of cases she worked. Finally she insisted he open the gate and let her through. “I’ve got to get going. It’s late.”

  “Okay, you come back anytime you like, all right? Maybe I’ll see you at the Bureau one day.”

  “Good luck with that,” Stella replied. “Be safe now.”

  She fastened her jacket tighter and headed down the sidewalk, making her way slowly back to the sedan. She wasn’t in a hurry to return to the motel, since it would make it that much sooner that she’d have to deal with MacGregor. She got seated behind the wheel of the Ford and pulled the evidence bag from her pocket.

  Perhaps she could compare the teeth marks in the matchstick to the victim’s dental records? If it didn’t belong to the guard, it could very well be her perp. She’d have to chat with Briggs in the morning.

  Stella laid the bag on the passenger seat and leaned forward to twist the ignition key, but as she did so, she caught sight of movement down the street at the edge of the impound lot. Two men were exiting a gap in the fence. One was short and possibly Middle Eastern, the other was a tall Caucasian man with an athletic build and unruly brown hair. He was wearing a Gremlins T-shirt. Both men climbed aboard a sun-faded pink scooter. The shorter man donned a helmet and fired up the scooter.

  “What the hell were you two up to?” Stella muttered. She started the car, pulling out to follow the two men. She kept her distance as she tailed them, not sure she wanted to reveal her presence yet. The scooter wasn’t hard to keep up with. It was low powered and the duo couldn’t be going far in this cold. The man on the back looked like he was shivering as it was. She tried to note the plate number on the scooter but the tag light was out and the shadow of the man on the back obscured it from the passing streetlights.

  As she neared a stoplight, sirens blared and lights flashed in her rearview mirror. A fire truck blasted by, making its way toward a glow down the street. When Stella crested the hill and reached the intersection, the men on the scooter turned west. The street ahead was a riot of color as the light from a dozen emergency vehicles illuminated the night. Firemen were battling an inferno consuming a single-story office building. She spotted several police officers on the sidewalk across from the burning building. Detective Briggs was among them.

  Stella weighed her options. The scooter with the two trespassers was buzzing away down the street. They could be a lead, or they could have been punks out to steal hubcaps. The roaring inferno could also be unrelated to her case too, but Detective Briggs was there for a reason. She couldn’t help but wonder what that was. She glanced at the matchstick in the evidence bag next to her, then pulled the car over, grabbed the bag, and got out.

  “We’ve gotta stop meeting like this, Agent York,” Detective Briggs said as she walked up. “No partner tonight?”

  Stella pulled her eyes from the blazing building. “He had other plans. You part of the fire brigade now?”

  The detective stepped away from the other officers to join her. “It’s looking like another homicide, actually.” He glanced down the sidewalk and Stella noted a crew loading a stretcher into the back of an ambulance. Detective Briggs walked her toward a vehicle parked on the opposite side of the street that had a law office sign rammed through the window. It was still smoking. “Some kind of explosion. One confirmed casualty so far. Victim’s name was Alan Waters.”

  Stella studied the burning sign. “Lawyer, huh? Somebody have a beef with one of his cases?”

  “Could be,” Briggs replied. “But we usually see more violence against prosecutors. Waters mostly worked defense. Stand-up guy. Knew him from the courthouse. Everyone thought he had a bright future. Probably a judgeship, maybe politics eventually. Not anymore.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” Stella replied. “Were you close?”

  “Just close enough to shoot the shit. But he was one of us.” Detective Briggs stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket and rolled his shoulders as if to shrug off the darkness.

  Stella reached into her pocket and removed the evidence bag. “Found this in our mystery van. Any chance your forensics could get me an analysis of the teeth marks in it? Or maybe saliva? Curious to see if it’s from one of the victims.”

  Detective Briggs took the bag and studied the marks. “Yeah, I’ve got a guy who could run some checks. This might be too small of a surface to pull from but I can ask. Could be from our escapee, huh?”

  “We can hope,” Stella replied.

  “Looks like maybe you work better as a solo act. Ol’ MacGregor slowing you down?”

  “MacGregor hasn’t quite embraced the idea of women in law enforcement yet. Any decade now he’ll get the picture.”

  “Where’d the Bureau put you guys up?” Detective Briggs asked.

  “Little motel on Fourth and Sixth
. I’m blanking on the name. Has a tree involved.”

  “I know the place,” Briggs replied. “I think I’ve arrested a few cockroaches there.”

  “The Ritz it ain’t,” Stella replied. “But MacGregor got to pick it and he’s as cheap as they come.”

  “What’s your room number?” Briggs asked. “I’ll give you a call if I get anything back on the matchstick.” He pulled a pen and notepad from his pocket.

  Stella gave him the room number, trying not to read anything into his request. She presumed his interest was only professional, but she realized she would certainly pick up the phone either way. She looked him over as he scribbled. She hadn’t had time for many extracurricular activities lately, but he was definitely her type. That great hair. Broad shoulders. Sincere eyes. It was clear he stayed in shape.

  Briggs put away the pen and smiled at her. She realized he had asked her a question.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “You want me at the meeting with Wallace tomorrow?”

  Wallace. Her dead van driver.

  “Yep. Thanks. That would be great.”

  A fireman dragged a hose over and got ready to blast the vehicle next to them and put out the smoldering sign. Stella and Detective Briggs ended up on opposite sides of the hose. “Excuse me, folks,” the firefighter said amiably. “Coming through.”

  Detective Briggs backed away toward his fellow officers, but before he did, he gave Stella a quick two-fingered salute. “See you tomorrow, Agent York.”

  Stella waved back. “Right. Goodnight, Detective.”

  “Call me Danny,” he replied.

  She smiled. “Goodnight, Danny.”

  He grinned.

  She took one last look at the wreck of a building, then turned back toward the car. The sound of the fire hose inundating the car trailed her as she walked.

  When she pulled the company sedan back onto the road, she took one last pass by the impound lot. She cruised by the spot she’d seen the two men exit the fence. They could have been anybody. Probably nothing to do with her mystery van. But as she drove back to the motel, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d made the wrong decision in not following them. She could only hope that whoever they were, they’d show up again. When they did, she’d be ready.

  4 Wallace

  “Get that thing away from me!” George Wallace exclaimed. “It’s unnatural!”

  The prison guard had been driven to the station early but looked like he would be fleeing toward the door before long.

  “Mr. Wallace, please calm down if you can,” Stella said. “We just need to ask you a few questions.”

  “That’s not me,” Wallace said. “It’s not me.” He shook his head violently. “Somebody’s idea of a sick joke. That’s what that is. Let me out of here.”

  Agent MacGregor glared at the man as if willing him to spurt answers. “You mean to tell me you never seen this guy before? Ever?” He walked over to the second body and pulled back the sheet. “And this one?”

  Wallace looked like he might be sick.

  “So help me, if you throw up in here, I’ll flatten you,” MacGregor muttered.

  Detective Briggs was in the hallway when Stella left the room.

  “Good morning, Danny.”

  “That doesn’t sound like it’s going well in there.” He was leaning casually against the doorframe of the morgue break room.

  “I’m going to get him some coffee and see if I can settle him down.”

  Danny looked at the cup in his hand. “Coffee’s pretty terrible. But if you’re looking to play bad cop . . .”

  Stella walked to the coffee pot and began pouring a cup. She muttered a curse when a few drops splashed out and ended up on her slacks. She was back in work clothes this morning, a white blouse and low, sensible heels. The look was all business, but she had made a little extra effort with her curling iron in anticipation of running into Danny.

  “Any big New Year’s Eve plans for tonight? You and MacGregor gonna paint the town red?” he asked.

  Stella laughed. “That would be a grand end to 1985. Probably about fitting though, the way things have been going.” She took a whiff of the coffee, then cringed. “Ugh. You weren’t kidding.”

  Danny leaned closer. “Well, me and a couple of the narcotics guys are probably going out to—”

  “Hey, Briggs!” The call came from the hall and another detective appeared in the doorway. “Chief’s looking for you. You’re working the Waters homicide, right?” He handed a file to Danny.

  “Not right this second I’m not.” Danny frowned.

  “Well, you’d better get back on it. We’ve got another body, and they think it could be your guy’s work.”

  “Another explosion?”

  “No, but they found ammonium nitrate residue in some footprints. Same as the Waters fire.”

  Danny turned to Stella. “Sorry, looks like I gotta run.”

  Stella waved him off. “Good luck. I’ll just be here poisoning my only lead.” She lifted the cup of coffee.

  Danny smiled, then followed the second detective down the hall.

  Stella watched them disappear down the stairwell. “Happy New Year,” she muttered.

  “I’m getting tired of this nonsense!” Agent MacGregor shouted as he paced back and forth across his motel room. The dingy shag carpet was in danger of being worn away by his fury.

  “We could try looking into wider possibilities,” Stella said. “Some kind of human cloning?”

  “Don’t give me more bullshit to deal with,” MacGregor said. “There is always an answer, and nine times out of ten it’s some cock up we’ve failed to account for.”

  “Just trying to think outside the box. You know the Sherlock Holmes quote ‘When you have eliminated the impossible—’”

  “The impossible is not our job,” MacGregor growled. “Get your head back to reality. That’s what I get for having a woman for a partner. A mind in fantasy land.”

  Stella narrowed her eyes, but then let her gaze fall to the prints in front of her and shuffled them around. “Well, call it what you want. We’ve confirmed it’s not a mistake with the analysis. The prints we got off Wallace today are a dead match with the body. There’s no way that should be possible, even if it was some long lost identical twin. You explain it.”

  MacGregor ran his hands through his graying hair. “I still think this local PD is jacking the evidence up. We’ll have to explain that in the reports.” He turned to Stella. “I want you to get everything you can on these dead guards. And I want to keep eyes on this Wallace character. I don’t care what he says, he has to know something.”

  “That reaction seemed sincere to me,” Stella replied.

  MacGregor glared at her. “We’re going up to Polk County to nose around. We’ll see if any other guards up there know something. Pack your shit.”

  “You want to go tonight? It’s New Year’s Eve.”

  “I doubt this scumbag we’re chasing is taking the night off,” MacGregor replied. “He could be anywhere by now. The sooner we have real evidence, the sooner we can get this case behind us. The prison is our only lead right now.”

  Stella closed the file. “Five bucks says we’re back here by the weekend.”

  MacGregor grunted. “The prison will give us something. Mark my words.”

  It was the middle of the next week when MacGregor finally admitted defeat. Stella wanted to believe it wasn’t just the five dollar bet that had inspired him to stay so long in Polk county, but there was little other explanation.

  The other guards were no help. There was very little to be said about Wallace that they didn’t already know. A week’s worth of investigating and interviews had revealed that any skeletons he had in his closet were as uninspiring as the man himself. They’d brought Wallace more notoriety with their presence than he’d enjoyed in his entire career. Despite all of MacGregor’s determination, they had come up empty. Thursday night found them back in St. Petersburg. Stella
was grateful that at least they’d landed a different hotel.

  When MacGregor was firmly ensconced in his room with the TV Guide, Stella picked up her room phone. She dialed the number and was pleased to hear Danny pick up.

  “You have good timing. I was just locking up my desk.”

  “Afraid someone will solve all your cases before you can?”

  “You’re right, I should leave it open. How’d your trip inland go? Any leads?”

  “All dried up.”

  “Sounds like you could use a drink,” Danny said. “Come out with me tonight. I know a place with a good crowd. You can show me how well federal agents hold their liquor.”

  Stella wrapped the phone cord around her hand a few times. “Don’t you know they issue iron gullets with our badges these days?”

  She could hear Danny’s smile as he spoke. “Forty-ninth Street Mining Company. You want to meet me there or can I give you a ride?”

  “I do prefer to be chauffeured. I’ll be outside the lobby in . . . twenty minutes.”

  “See you then.”

  5 49th Street Mining Company

  Danny wasn’t lying about the crowd. Stella slung her purse over her shoulder as she got out of the car. It didn’t match her outfit and wasn’t her first choice for accessories, but she had to put her gun somewhere. She hadn’t packed any dresses for this trip, but she had managed to include a herringbone-patterned pencil skirt and a blouse that fit her well. The sleeves were a little puffy for her taste and lacked the shoulder pads many other women were sporting tonight. She likewise wasn’t in competition with the number of perms in attendance. The amount of Aqua Net that had been employed by men and women here was likely making the scene a fire hazard. She’d barely had time to give her hair a few extra curls before she was due outside the motel. Danny wasn’t spending much time looking at her hair anyway.

  “You brought me to a karaoke bar?” she asked as he led the way inside.