Craft Brew Page 17

  “You can search back that far?” the tech asked.

  “Don’t ask those questions,” Jamie said, at the same time Cam snapped, “I’m not that old.”

  Jamie lifted his fingers off the keys a minute later. “That’s why you recognized the name.”

  “The name from Becca’s list?” Cam and Nic asked together.

  “Yep.” Jamie highlighted a name on the screen. “Reid Porter. He went to your high school.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Cam was in an unmarked BPD Mustang with Jamie, racing after Smith and Murphy. They’d traced the Camaro from the botched exchange last night to one of the chop shops where Reid Porter worked, doing the books, or cooking them. If Reid thought he was getting a meet with Cam, that he might leverage Cam’s past against him, then, taken together with that smug-sounding voicemail, it stood to reason that Reid would actually show up for this meet. He’d think it in his benefit, a power play, which Cam hoped would leave Shannon relatively unguarded, at either the chop shop or Reid’s residence, for Nic and Matt to rescue.

  They were on their way to check those out, while Cam and Jamie led two other teams to the meet. Cam had had to firmly and finally trample the instinct to sideline Nic for his protection. They needed Nic’s deft touch with abuse victims on the rescue end of this one, and Nic could protect himself, no doubt. Didn’t make Cam any less anxious about sending him into a potentially dangerous situation. The difference this time, though, was that Cam had accepted his nervousness as being more about himself than Nic. He couldn’t lose Nic, not when it was increasingly apparent he needed Nic to ground him, to remind him not to compromise Agent Byrne when Cameron Byrne, brother, was clawing beneath the suit.

  “He’s more than capable,” Jamie said, reading him like a book. “And Matt and his whole team are with him.”

  “I know that.” Cam drummed his thumb on the passenger window sill. “Still too many variables.”

  “You’ve dealt with more before.”

  True, except Cam hadn’t dealt with the variable of being in love before. Of sending the object of his affections into the line of fire. He propped his elbow on the window sill and stared out at the passing landscape.

  “You ready to talk about what’s really going on?” Jamie asked.

  “Me putting my family through hell again,” he deflected. “No, thanks.”

  “We can talk about that. Or we can talk about you being in love with Price and not knowing how to tell your family.”

  Cam dropped his arm and leaned his head back, eyes closed. “Daily cursing myself for recruiting you into the FBI.”

  Jamie chuckled. “What are friends for?” Jamie shot him a side-eye, then focused again on the road, weaving in and out of traffic at a breakneck pace, closing in on the red dot displayed on the phone. “He makes you happy?”

  “And frustrates the hell out of me.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  “Before, it was him who wanted to hide.”

  “But Price is out.”

  Cam shook his head. “Not about that,” he said, drawing a raised brow from his friend. “Reason that isn’t mine to tell, which he’s translated to a need to protect me.”

  Jamie scoffed. “Fuck, y’all are perfect for each other.” He shifted the car into a higher gear, throwing Cam back against the seat and interrupting the middle finger he’d been about to shoot at him. “So your family then?”

  “Not exactly the time to spring this on them.”

  “Maybe not, but you had to know it could go this way. That you might have to have this conversation with them one day.”

  “But it could just as easily have gone a different way.”

  “But it didn’t.” Jamie smiled, the lovesick fool grin that meant he was thinking of Aidan. “Love doesn’t care.”

  Would his family though?

  The police radio unit crackled, positions reporting in.

  “How can you drive like a bat out of hell and have this conversation?”

  “This is all muscle memory.” Jamie’s grin morphed from lovesick to sly as he kicked the Mustang into sport mode, revving it faster. Someone was having fun with the souped-up police vehicle.

  Cam was mid eye-roll when Jamie swerved around a slow-moving Prius, and the back end of a fire-engine red mid-nineties Camaro came into view three cars ahead. Not the police cruiser they’d been after, but Cam knew this car. From the footage of Murphy’s meet last night, and from high school.

  “That’s Reid,” he said. “He’s had that car since high school.”

  “What do you want to do?” Jamie asked.

  “Stay on them.” Cam reached for the police radio. “Murphy, Smith, pick up!” He tried to raise them twice more, with no luck. “Beta team, this is Alpha. In pursuit of suspect Reid. Beta, intercept Murphy and Smith.”

  “Roger that,” Di confirmed. Beta Team was approaching from the opposite direction, the original plan to box the meet in. Looked like they’d be boxing in their target instead.

  “Reid’s spotted us,” Jamie said, and Cam’s gaze whipped up, just as the Camaro sped forward, weaving across lanes of traffic, aiming for the exit a mile ahead. “Moving that fast, he’s jacked the engine.”

  “Can we catch them?”

  “From this close, hell, yeah.” Jamie swerved over, onto the shoulder, speeding ahead.

  “Alpha in pursuit,” Cam radioed, then hit the lights and sirens. No use hiding now, and better to get the civilian traffic out of the way.

  Jamie drove the Mustang faster, and Reid shot the other direction, no longer aiming for the off ramp they’d planned to intercept him at.

  “Shit!” Cam cursed. “There’s a left exit two miles ahead.”

  Jamie cut back into the scattering traffic, narrowly missing a bumper.

  “Alpha, Beta, this is Charlie.” Nic’s voice came over the radio. “Shannon’s not at either location.”

  “Copy that,” Cam replied. “Alpha still in pursuit.” He flipped the radio off. “She could be in the car,” he said to Jamie. “We have to be careful.”

  “We need to get in front of him, then. Tell me where I can make a move.”

  Cam surveyed the road ahead while Jamie remained focused on Reid’s Camaro and dodging the cars between them. “There’s another exit a half mile up on the right, before the left one.”

  “On and off ramps? Lights at the intersection?”

  “If I remember correctly, yes, to both.”

  “You make the call,” Jamie said.

  If anyone could thread that needle, it was Jamie. And they couldn’t lose Reid again.

  “Do it,” Cam said.

  Jamie zoomed back onto the shoulder, laid down metal, and they sped past the Camaro and onto the exit ramp, Jamie blasting the horn. Cars were already braking and moving out of the way, which was a good sign. The steep incline, however, was not. “I can’t see if it’s clear up ahead,” Cam said.

  “I’m gonna go right. More room to cut across the intersection, and less likely to hit a car turning across.” Jamie pressed and held down the horn, speeding up as they came up on the crest of the intersection. “Hold on!”

  Cam grabbed the oh-shit handle and squeezed shut his eyes, “Sooner, Price,” drifting through his head. Praying that it wasn’t “Later,” instead.

  Tires squealed and horns blared all around.

  But there was no crunch of metal. And no deceleration.

  He opened his eyes, and they were headed back down the on ramp.

  “We’re not telling Aidan about that,” Jamie said, swerving back into traffic.

  “Or Nic.” Cam twisted in his seat. “Camaro’s four cars back on the left.”

  “Plenty of time.” Jamie cut across lanes of traffic, zigzagging in police maneuvers to keep other traffic back. Reid had nowhere to go. His on
ly option was to try and outrun them, a race he was never going to win.

  The Camaro jumped into the left median, and Jamie hurtled ahead. At the last second, he swerved left, drifting and sliding the Mustang so that it perfectly blocked the ramp. Reid jerked the Camaro right, trying to get back onto the freeway, but he couldn’t maneuver fast enough, ramming sideways into the rail.

  Cam prayed Reid and anyone else in the car had on a belt or was otherwise secured. He shoved open his door, weapon drawn, and hustled to the driver’s side of the Camaro.

  “FBI! Hands up, Porter!”

  Cam didn’t see anyone else in the car. Just Reid, his headful of straggly blond hair lying on the steering wheel, the rest of him shaking.

  Jamie circled around the back of the car. “Clear.”

  Cam closed in, shouting again, “I said hands up, Porter!”

  Reid raised his hands, the nail beds black with grease, and fell back in his seat, laughing. “That was fun.”

  Was he high? Judging by the rail-thin form, sagging yellowish skin, and missing teeth, Cam wouldn’t doubt it.

  “Hey, Twenty-four. Just the man I was looking for.”

  “Where’s Shannon?”

  “Shannon who?”

  Not seeing a weapon, Cam yanked the car door open and hauled Reid out onto the pavement. “Check the car,” he ordered Jamie as he holstered his weapon, cuffed Reid, and turned him over. He had at least fifty pounds on the guy. He wasn’t getting away or putting up a fight.

  “Nothing inside,” Jamie called.

  “Check the trunk.”

  Jamie reached across the seats from the passenger side and pulled up the lever. The trunk popped open, and Cam’s heart sank, not hearing anything. Jamie ducked out and around to the back of the car. He raised the trunk the rest of the way, and slumped.

  Cam held his breath, fearing the worst.

  “It’s empty.”

  Not the very worst, but a close second.

  * * *

  Nic stood on the observation side of the two-way glass, watching as Cam and Matt questioned Reid.

  “Where’s Shannon?” Matt asked for what had to be the tenth time. “Who are you working with? There was a second voice.”

  Reid squirmed in his chair but he still wasn’t talking.

  “You were blackmailing Murphy,” Cam said. “To steal or destroy evidence on a case implicating Brian Koehler. When Murphy didn’t work out, you were going to try and blackmail me, using my past, because you knew I used to run in those circles.”

  “How long have you been on Koehler’s payroll?” Matt said. “Since he started dealing meth to you?”

  “Or is it blow?” Cam said. “We’ll have the drug tests back later today.”

  “Wonder how your boss feels about one of his shops getting blown up last night?”

  It’d be great if they could ask him, but Koehler was in the wind. Security footage from Logan yesterday had him boarding a flight to Doha, with fake papers of course. The footage showed him alone, as did pictures of him in a half dozen other places the past week. They had no reason to think Shannon was with him. Hell, it was unclear if he even knew about any of this. It might have just been Reid trying to earn stars, and when he’d gotten a whiff of it, he bolted on the first flight out to a nonextradition country, escaping the pending charges against him and the idiocy of the flunkies on his payroll.

  Wait... “Koehler’s payroll,” Nic murmured.

  “What’s that?” Jamie asked behind him, pausing his warp speed typing.

  Nic rotated, leaning back against the glass. “Can you pull up the payroll for Koehler’s businesses?”

  “The legitimate ones, yes. The others, not as quickly.”

  But not a no. Nic couldn’t help but chuckle. “Let’s start with the legitimate ones. Cross-check them with the list Becca gave me.”

  Jamie nodded, and Nic turned back around, eyes tracking Cam around the room. From the whispers he’d heard, Cam and Jamie were lucky to be alive after the car chase this afternoon. He’d been waiting at the station when they’d returned, but there’d been so much activity—from booking Reid, to throwing Murphy and Smith, whom Di had apprehended, into temporary holding, to running all manner of traces on Reid’s phones and personal data—that Nic hadn’t gotten a minute alone with him before Reid was ready for questioning. As much as he’d wanted to kiss and hold Cam in his arms, reassure himself that Cam was in one piece, there was no time to waste.

  For Shannon’s sake or Cam’s mother’s.

  At last check-in, her condition hadn’t worsened but she hadn’t improved either. Her not waking up yet was starting to concern the doctors, which in turn was putting Cam even more on edge. His questions were clipped, his patience thinned, his orders sharpened—more than anyone here was used to from Agent Hard Ass.

  Proving Nic’s point, he smacked the table in front of Reid. “This is a girl’s life on the line, Porter! Who’s holding Shannon?”

  “Two hits,” Jamie said, and Nic spun back around. “Both have records.”

  Nic moved to stand beside Jamie, who’d pulled up two rap sheets on-screen. Petty crimes, possession, breaking and entering, except the one on the right, for Timothy Harper, who also had numerous domestic violence charges filed against him by an ex-wife.

  “That one.” Nic tapped the right side of the screen. “Now search against—”

  “Got it, cross-checking.” Jamie pulled up the list of missing persons on the left side of the screen.

  Zero matches. “Aside from being in the Boston metro area, nothing,” Jamie said. “No known associates or associations between Harper and any of the missing persons.”

  “Look at the dates,” Nic said. “The domestic violence incidences and the missing persons reports line up. A few days apart, each time.”

  “Fuck,” Jamie cursed, no doubt seeing it too.

  “He can only go so long before he erupts.” And attacked his family, and when that wasn’t enough, a brown-haired, brown-eyed girl. Someone who looked like Erin Byrne, and if those dates matched up... “Jesus Christ, Erin was the first.”

  Nic yanked out his phone, speed-dialing Lauren.

  “Hey, stranger,” she answered. “It’s quiet here without you and Cam. Just Aidan blustering around. And—”

  “Lauren,” he cut off her ramble.

  Practiced at reading him by now, she snapped to professional attention. “What do you need?”

  “Has Becca been transferred out of local lockup yet?”

  Rapid-fire typing on the other end of the line. “She’s scheduled to leave in thirty.”

  “Transfer me to the warden now.” Nic circled the table and double-tapped on the glass. Cam was excusing himself as the warden answered the other end of the line.

  “Price, what can I do for you?”

  “I need to speak to Rebecca Wright before you transfer her.”

  “That’s highly unusual.”

  “Two minutes, warden. She’s been instrumental in helping us on a case, and I need to confirm something with her. A girl’s life is on the line here.”

  The warden cleared his throat. “All right, just a minute.”

  Cam entered, closing the door behind him. “What’ve you got?”

  Nic switched the phone to speaker.

  “Attorney Price,” Becca said, and Cam’s eyes shot to his, surprised. “You going to save me from gen pop for another few days?”

  “Help me save a girl’s life, and I’ll do my best.”

  When she didn’t answer right away, Cam interjected. “Becca, it’s Cameron Byrne.”

  “Oh-ho, Hot Stuff. Should’ve known this involved you.”

  “Becca, you help us out here, and I swear I’ll be the first one to speak on your behalf at your parole hearing.”

  “I’m never getting out o
f here, boys, let’s be honest.”

  “But I can try to get you someplace more pleasant,” Nic said.

  “Please, Becca,” Cam added.

  Only a second of hesitation this time. “What do you need to know?”

  Cam sagged with relief, bracing a hand on the table. “That list you provided has been invaluable. There’s a name on it we’re particularly interested in. Timothy Harper.”

  “He’s the reason I left that crew,” she said, making no attempt to disguise the disgust in her voice. “Creepy fucker, always staring and skulking around. He gave me the wiggins.”

  Cam leaned more of his weight onto his hand, and Nic gave him a supportive nudge. Harper was their guy; Cam knew it too. The end of all this was rushing up to meet them. But where?

  “Do you have any idea as to his whereabouts?” Nic asked.

  “No, I only ever saw him on jobs. I’m sorry I don’t know more.”

  Nic believed that she was. “No, Becca, this is good. Thank you.”

  “I hope you find her, Hot Stuff.”

  She handed the phone back to the warden, and Nic negotiated for her stay a few more days in local lockup. Maybe by then this would all be over, and he could file the paperwork to move her out of maximum security. By the time he finished with the warden, Cam had steadied himself and was headed back into the interrogation room.

  “Does Timothy Harper have her?”

  Reid froze. No squirming, no cute answers, no deflections. Just utterly still. And ghostly pale.

  “Does he have her?” Cam roared.

  “I want a deal,” Reid squeaked.

  Cam lunged across the table, grabbing Reid by the ragged collar of his T-shirt. “This is a girl’s life, you weaselly fuck!”

  There was a traffic jam at the observation room door, Nic and Jamie both trying to rush out at once, but Jamie had the size advantage, which Nic needed right now, for Cam’s sake. He let Jamie out first and followed him into the other room. Jamie and Matt wrestled Cam off Reid, who looked smug, like he thought he was getting off easy, Nic the smaller of the three men. He wasn’t so smug once Nic grabbed him by the arm, wrenched it behind him, and slammed him facedown against the table.