SEIZED Part 6: A Steamy New Adult Romantic Suspense Thriller (Seize Me Romance Fiction Series) (2 page)

Ryan

I have to wait for everyone in the lab to go to lunch so I can finally get back to my research. The FBI still has a team here, and now Internal Affairs has joined the chaos. If IA is any good, they’ll be tracking every staff log-in each day; hence my secret mission. To access the system, I need to use someone else’s code.

I’ve chosen one of the IT support guys whose access won’t be questioned. He’s in and out of the system constantly, so it will simply look like routine maintenance. The man’s my buddy, and happens to be the biggest tech nerd in the precinct. More importantly, he’s not under suspicion and he was happy to do me a solid when I told him why I needed it. He knows my use of his security credential won’t get him in too much trouble—as long as I’m careful. Still, I’m nervous as hell. I wouldn’t normally do something so sneaky. The thing is, when a friend like Blake needs help, it’s time to act, and this level of rule-breaking is called for sometimes.

After I’m finished, I’ll look into the other favor Blake asked about. In a world that encourages productivity and multi-tasking, we analysts work best when we tackle one thing at a time. I call it focus. The rest of the precinct calls it OCD. I always tell my trainees it’s important to follow logical and systematic investigative processes. It’s the secret to ensuring good lab work. Doing one thing and then another in sequence. I’m a fan because it provides consistent quality.

I want my lab staff to be sold on it so I know our results and findings are beyond reproach. Today, though, I just want them gone. I’m stuck waiting for them all to follow our step-by-step clean-down process before they leave. Geez!

Finally, the last person leaves the lab. I sit in front of one of the computers with a sigh of relief. I want this done as quickly as possible. I punch in my buddy’s login and it works. I’m accepted into the system. Perfect. I’m ready to go. On my last search, I had uncovered the name of the person who was logged in when the security footage from April’s kidnapping was tampered with. They had been careful enough to delete the coding and digital signatures. Still, I was able to identify them with the time-stamp of their system access.

Tonight it’s time to take it to the next level and find out more about what they’ve really been up to. I’m going in deep. I’ll check every email communication and flag any suspicious-looking transactions. I also want to take a look inside their hard drive, but that means gaining extra access. I’m pretty decent at this, but I’m no hacker, so the hard drive will have to wait.

I start examining their most recent communications. I identify what the person shared, who they contacted and when, in the weeks prior to the kidnapping. I’m looking for irregular contacts or connections that seem unusual. One message or inconsistent contact can make us or break us, so I make sure I’m thorough with my examination.

Next, I check their calendars and look through the social media platforms they use. I check friends’ list and most recent activity. In this ‘one human, one smartphone’ age, people get busted all the time when the apps on their phones check them in, or update their location. And it’s never convenient when they’re somewhere they weren’t supposed to be in the first place. This is why I take my time.

There’s the usual crap I would expect to find on social media. Nothing of interest stands out. There are endless photographs of Italian food. There’s still no one around on the floor. I take a minute to get coffee from the pot in the corner. I’m standing there throwing in milk and sugar, when I remember I should be tracking their movements using their smartphone GPS.

Sure, it’ll take a little extra time, but I’ll be able to see their exact location on vital days. It also means I have to cross-check everything they’ve reported me with what I find in their digital signature. Anyone can add an item to a calendar after the fact, but it takes a little extra work to delete GPS information. I’m starting to enjoy this. I smile to myself as I head back to the computer. I like a challenge, and with the stakes this high, it’s even better.

After an hour of sifting through the digital records, I find nothing. There’s literally nothing of interest. Shit. It’s frustrating. As a last resort, I hack into the phone records on the person’s police department-issued cell phone. I didn’t try at first, because it seems like such a rookie mistake. Everyone around here knows department phone records are instantly accessible. Now that burner phones are so easy to get, the average person knows to use them if they need to communicate in secret.

Clearly, that presumption doesn’t apply to this transgressor. I can hardly believe I’ve found what I’m looking for. It’s right here. This staff member has made and received multiple calls from the phone number I have for Jessup Lee—on and around the days of the April’s and Carrie’s kidnapping, and as recently as last week. They clearly have a relationship. Now, I need to find out more. I pull up the case logs. The person made at least two of the calls when they were on duty, supposedly carrying out official business. If that’s true, they must be sneaking off to talk to Jessup. Whatever it is they’re hiding, it’s bad.

I then have the computer track a dual GPS pathway. If he was stupid enough to make traceable calls, I’m betting I can find them meeting in public somewhere. In a minute, I see my hypothesis is correct. There are several shared locations. Jessup and this person met at least five times in the last six weeks.

This evidence is damning. I need to take a step back and tread carefully. One wrong play and I’ll find myself out of a job. My instincts are telling me to immediately get on the phone with Blake. What I should be doing is going straight to a judge or IA with what I know. They’re the only ones with the power to topple this level of corruption.

I use the data sticks I brought to get a record of what I’ve found. I save the records, and make extra screenshots of the information I want. I make two copies. Something tells me I’m going to need a backup. I sit back in the chair, looking around the room. I gaze up at the ceiling. The place is spotless, with white walls and perfectly sterilized. When I first started, I thought the organization was similar. I guess we’re all trying to do the best we can, but this type of behavior isn’t good enough.

I log out and remove the flash drives, placing them safely in my pocket. I have no qualms about putting right what’s wrong. No qualms at all. The lunch hour is already over and people are starting to return. There’s someone I want to see before this case goes ape shit. Brenda took George to get his cast removed, and by now, they’ll be at the park around the corner from where they live. It’s time I stop lying to myself. I need to see her again.

We’ve been meeting for coffee and lunch for the last few months. Just getting to know each other. It feels so right, and at the same time, there are so many barriers in our way. We’ve agreed more than once not to meet again, out of respect for Blake, but the connection between us is undeniable.

One of us usually slips with a text or email, or we run into each other because we’re both so close to Blake. That’s the main problem. Blake. He’s my best friend and her overly protective brother. I know for a fact he won’t be happy to find out anyone he knows wants to date his sister.

For him, it’s a matter of principle. Over the years, I’ve talked to him about the relationships I have been in. He knows me too well, and those conversations will be used against me when I tell him I want to get serious with Brenda. Part of me thinks it’s too old-fashioned—having to practically ask his permission to date his sister. But at the same time, I can respect it. He’s looking out for her.

That’s why we’ve been holding back. I try to support her where I can, be a friendly voice on the end of the phone. But we both want much more. Each time we meet the attraction is more intense. I need to come clean with Blake now. He’s going to find out if we don’t tell him. I’m positive of that. And if it goes down that way, everything will blow up. I decide I’ll take the afternoon off.

This time I take my Department-issued car. When I get there, I park as close as I can to their favorite section of the park. I know where George will be, and I spot him almost instantly. He’s such a good kid. Brenda and Blake have done a great job. I see her before she notices me, and spend a long moment looking at her from a distance. Her small, slim frame is perked up as she watches over George. It makes me smile.

I make my way over and sit beside her. The energy changes right away. It’s like the air crackles between us. We smile at each other, and I know we’re going to have the same old conversation.

“Hi,” she says it shyly, looking over at me.

“Hi.”

The urge to pull her into my arms is so strong, but I hold back. We look at each other for a moment, and then turn our focus to George. He’s playing in the distance.

“So did you say something?” She asks.

I shake my head, “Nope. You know I can’t yet. Please understand, it’s not that I don’t want to see you. I just have to time it right. We can’t be sneaking around. I don’t want to feel like we’re some secret to keep hidden from your brother.”

She nods slowly. “I know. You’re right. I just can’t help thinking it’s hopeless. He’s never going to agree, Ryan. I don’t want to hurt him and I’m scared it’ll ruin your friendship.”

I wish I could make it better but I can’t. Not unless I man up and say what needs to be said to her brother. She’s not alone. I don’t know what to do either—risk my oldest friendship for a chance to date her, or stay silent and watch her from afar, wishing she were mine.

As I think this, she places her purse between us. It provides a shield, a small gap of privacy, just in case George looks over at us. If George suspects anything, it’s game over and we wouldn’t dare suggest he hide anything from his uncle. My heart speeds up in my chest when I feel her fingers in my hand. Her skin is warm and soft. I enclose her hand in my own, lacing our fingers together in secret. Until we tell Blake, no one can know about us.

Blake

Time is crawling. The Internal Affairs interview is getting closer. My last encounter with them comes to mind, now that I’m about to face them again in less than an hour. I’d be a fool to be anything but prepared for the worst. But it doesn’t faze me.

All I care about right now is that Carrie is still missing. I’m more anxious with every day I’m away from her. The muscles in my shoulders are so tight, it hurts to stretch. My body is always the first to go when I’m tense. It’s like an emotional barometer. First my shoulders tense up, then my back muscles follow, and before I know it, I’m like an accordion of pent up stress and worry—about my girl.

I still haven’t heard back from Gary, my union rep. It’s clear to me now—this was IA’s intention when they scheduled the rush meeting. I could refuse to attend, and would be well within my rights. The problem is that my refusal can also come off as avoidance on my part. What I don’t understand is why they’d put me in this position.

I try the cell phone number listed at the bottom of my union rep’s email one more time. No answer. Fuck! I don’t need this. I could be spending my time looking for Carrie. Instead, I’m being wrapped in a bundle of red tape. I’m already on my way to the precinct. If I had time, I would stop at the guy’s office on the off chance he’s there. But I don’t want to be late—that would be asking for trouble, with my track record.

Pulling in to the precinct, I swear under my breath. There are no parking spots left. It astounds me how quickly I’ve forgotten the place is crammed during the day. I turn out to the street and find a metered parking spot down the street.

I straighten my collar in the mirror, and grimace at the thought of what’s coming. Nerves aren’t usually a problem for me, however today my gut is continually churning. Anything to do with IA bugs me. I don’t think there’s a cop out there that feels any different, though.

I walk up to the main doors. Stepping into the precinct is strange. It’s the first time I feel I don’t belong here. I check in with Jacob, and she points me to the interview room where an IA representative is prepping. She tells me to wait at the door until he comes out for me. I pass by the room. I’ve never seen this guy before, but already, he looks like a smug hard-ass. I expect I’ll be subjected to the same intimidation tactics as the last time. They want cops under suspicion to feel as uncomfortable as possible.

Before I get too wound up, the IA agent steps in the interview room. Without introducing himself, he points to the seat on the opposite side of the spot where he’s set up.

“Have a seat, Detective Blake. I’ll be right back,” he says, and walks toward the cages.

I sit and take a look around. The little red light of the camera in the corner confirms the feeling in my gut. The guy’s departure was intentional. He and his team are probably watching me through the mirrored window. This is serious, but whatever. They’re so predictable it’s somewhat comical. I lean back in my chair and loosen my tie.

After a few minutes, he returns. His name badge says he’s Peter Schmitt. He finally puts out a hand to introduce himself, and takes the time to look me directly in the eye as he slides into his chair. I feel the hair on my neck prickle. This guy has a chip on his shoulder, and at the moment, as I’m in the hot seat, he has the upper hand.

When he finally speaks again, his voice is cold and calculating. “Detective Anderson, I notice you’ve chosen to remain unrepresented. Is this correct?”

What a prick. This guy won’t even acknowledge the obvious. And they call themselves professional.

“No,” I reply, making an attempt at cordiality that fails instantly. I’m already feeling the heat of anger rise up. “That is completely false. I wasn’t able to reach my union rep with less than a day’s notice of this meeting, sir.”

He types something into his laptop, scribbles a note, and then begins the interview without making eye contact.  He asks me to retell my story from start to finish. It’s a huge ask without my notes. I can store and recall a lot of information by memory, but I need my notes to be clear on dates, times and the precise sequence of events. Their trap, of course, is that any detail I’m not one hundred percent sure of will give them reason to grill me further.

“I’d like to request the case notes.” I ask as politely as possible, although I already know he’s unlikely to hand them over.

This time he graces me with a look in the eye. “At this point in time, Detective, we’d like you to run through what you remember, instead of what you wrote down. It will help us clear up some inconsistencies that need straightening out.”

“Fine.” I straighten up in the chair and place my hands flat on the table in front of me.

He must take it as some form of aggression. “If you’re going to be difficult,” he says, “you might as well start now.”

The slight tilt of his chin pronounces the expression on his face—righteous indignation. He slips on a pair of harsh-looking wireframe glasses and makes another note on his laptop.

“Detective, please start by telling me more about the relationship that you have with Carrie James.”

I take a deep breath and tell him as little as possible. “Carrie and I were close friends in high school before I left Cedar Rapids, Iowa.”

“Did you stay in touch with Carrie James over the years?”

“No.” The truth is I saw her once at the Dojo she trained at. I had briefly thought we could catch up, but she was with a man that seemed like a love interest, so I didn’t approach her. Do they need to know this? Hell no. It’s not relevant.

“So are you saying that until the night of April Lee’s abduction, you had not communicated with Carrie James for all those years?”

“That is correct.” My seeing her at that dojo does not fall into my definition of communication, so to me, I’m still telling my truth.

“Did you have an intimate or sexual relationship with Carrie James while you were the lead Detective on the April Lee case, Detective Anderson?”

“Yes.” There’s no way I’m lying about that.

“And do you comprehend how inappropriate that was?”

“Can you explain?” I ask. I know where he’s going, but I need him to be precise.

“Do you understand you had a duty to disclose this relationship?”

“Yes.”

“And why didn’t you?”

“I did. I disclosed my friendship to Lieutenant Jacob. She felt it was beneficial for me to continue this friendship, to close in on the Jessup Lee case.”

“Do you understand that a friendship is different from a romantic or sexual relationship?”

“I disclosed what I felt was pertinent.”

“And you didn’t think it would jeopardize the integrity of the case, or affect your ability to make decisions on both Lee cases in any way?”

“No sir. I do not believe my decision-making capability was impaired at any stage.”

“Detective Anderson, may I remind you that it is in your best interests to tell the complete truth for this interview?”

“It’s the truth, sir. My feelings for Carrie did not detract from my conduct or decision-making on this case.”

I gulp a little, as I’m not being completely honest here. I was and still am influenced by my feelings for Carrie. She was on my mind constantly, and I acted hastily once or twice.

It’s clear he’s trying to set me up as an incompetent case lead. I refuse to fall for his trap so early in the game. None of my decisions were logistically wrong.

“Detective,” he says. “Let me be perfectly clear with you. Aspects of this case do not align to established police investigation procedures. You are here because you may be responsible for these deviations. I will get to the bottom of this, so don’t waste my time with misinformation and blatant lies.”

There’s nothing worse than an IA agent gunning for your badge. This guy is more serious than I thought, but I’m not intimidated.

“Yes sir,” I answer. “I’m aware of how serious the situation is. I followed procedure at every stage of the investigation.”

“Detective I want to discuss the initial witness intake process. Can you tell me why vital evidence was not recovered from the witness on the night of the abduction?”

“Ms. James was wearing a small purse that belonged to Ms. Lee. She had it under her clothing. I referred her to a female officer for a physical and medical examination. When Ms. James turned down the rape kit, the female officer allowed her to remain clothed. I stand behind that officer’s discretion. I believe she correctly interpreted and implemented victim support guidelines, which respect the victim’s right to refuse a search.”

“So what you’re telling me, Detective, is you allowed a known member of the media to witness a crime, and then conceal evidence. Is this correct?”

“No sir. Ms. James experienced a traumatic event. It’s understandable and completely reasonable that she did not realize she was in possession of the item until the next day.”

“This is what you believe, but do you have any evidence to back it up?”

“No.” I could tell them I suspected Carrie may have been after a story for a short period of time, but they would be all over that. And I believe she honestly didn’t remember she was still wearing that purse.

“So how do you explain Carrie’s continual refusal to follow the witness protection guidelines? More than once during the case she was found out in New Jersey.”

“Carrie cares about April. Her intention was to help.”

He nods like he doesn’t believe me and continues making notes. I want to reach over and punch him. Every minute I waste here boils my blood more.

“Now I’d like to know more about your relationship with Erica Morgan, also known as Neon Lips. Your history with her has come up before. Please tell me exactly what involvement you’ve had with her.”

“The details of my past relationship with Ms. Morgan are well documented in your file, sir. In terms of my current involvement, I’ve simply kept an eye on Neon over the years. I’ve always tried to nurture my contacts and develop ongoing CI relationships.”

“This woman is not listed in our records as one of your CIs.”

“That’s because I only recently began to cultivate our CI interaction.”

“Detective, are you telling me there is nothing more than an informant/officer relationship between the two of you?”

“Correct.” I neglect to mention that night I picked up Neon near Carrie’s hotel—the night she kissed me. It’s something else they don’t need to know.

He pauses for a few minutes, and I realize it’s another interview tactic. Eventually, he comes out swinging. “What were your priorities, Detective? Because I’m confused. Was it with the NYPD, one or both of the Lee cases, Ms. James, or Ms. Morgan?”

If he thought he came out of left field with that question, he’s so wrong. “Sir, I would have thought it was obvious. I did everything I could to find April Lee. I had even tried to enlist Ms. Morgan for help.”

“Are you aware that your involvement in the case is the likely cause of the second abduction? Ms. James should have been preserved as a valuable witness on this case, and instead she’s a victim.”

His words strike me right in the chest, sucking the air from my lungs. I bend, but I don’t buckle.  “Ms. James was in FBI custody at the time she was disappeared. Maybe you should interview Special Agent James Cooper about why she was in Ms. Morgan’s turf in New Jersey two nights in a row.”

I could go on, but my Union representative comes charging into the interview room. I look up at Schmitt. I’m still pissed at his suggestion that I’m directly or indirectly responsible for Carrie’s abduction. Gary looks at me as I sit in the chair, and then glares at the IA agent.

“Not good enough, Schmitt,” he shouts. “You should know better.”

“It was Detective Anderson’s informed choice to proceed without representation.”

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Gary shakes his head. “I’m shutting this interview down right now. Anderson, let’s go.”

The guy might be slightly older, but he’s a cop I trust. I’m impressed. I get up and nod at both men. They seem like they want to hurt each other, and as much as I like a good fight, I can’t wait to get out of there. I walk out the door and pull it closed behind me before stalking out of the precinct.