Damage Control

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

One day, Gail would learn that people’s names rarely matched the pictures those names evoked in her mind. She’d expected Harriett Burke to be a mousy sixty-something in a print dress and gray hair pulled back in a bun. She’d smile sweetly and say God-loving things.

Instead, she was a sturdy thirty-something with shoulders that were broader than most men’s. Smart money said her résumé included time on a roller derby team. Where the sweet smile should have been, there was instead a set jaw and firmly pressed lips. Clearly, her buddy Volpe from downstairs had called upstairs.

As the elevator doors opened on the opulent fourteenth floor, she was right there, doing her best to block the path down the hallway. “Reverend Mitchell doesn’t have time to meet with you,” she said.

Gail stepped into the elevator lobby. “And I don’t have the inclination to put you in handcuffs,” she said, and she skirted the human roadblock.

Tried to, anyway. Harriett grabbed Gail’s sleeve. “You may not go in there.”

Gail drew her badge as if it were a gun and pointed it at Harriett’s forehead. “This is your moment to make careful choices,” she said, startling herself by the ease with which she slid back into her old role.

“Do you have a warrant?” Harriett said. The badge and the speed with which it appeared had startled her.

“I’ll get one for your arrest if you don’t let go of my sleeve.”

Harriett pulled her had away as if it had touched a hot stove. “Sorry,” she said.

“Good for you. Where will I find Reverend Mitchell?”

“I’m sorry, Officer…”

“It’s sheriff. Sheriff McLain.”

“Sheriff McLain, Dr. Mitchell left very specific orders not to be disturbed today.”

“I’m guessing she didn’t anticipate my visit when she said that.”

“I could get fired.”

Now they were squarely in territory where Gail had stopped caring. “If she fired you for this, then you probably should consider working somewhere else.”

The elevator dinged, and Volpe joined them. Harriett looked genuinely relieved until the guard rested his hand on the revolver he wore on his hip.

Gail hated rent-a-cops. She pulled back her suit jacket to reveal the grip of her Glock. “I’ve got one, too,” she said. “And I’ll bet you a million dollars that I’m better with mine than you are with yours.”

Volpe lifted his hand from his weapon and ostentatiously splayed his fingers. “I wasn’t threatening you,” he said. His voice cracked a little.

“That’s exactly what you were doing,” Gail countered. “And I guarantee that I am threatening you. Will I find Dr. Mitchell’s office down this hallway?”

Volpe looked to Harriett, who said, “Yes. I’ll take you there.”

Something clicked in Gail’s head. That was a big change of heart in a very short time. Was Harriett looking for a reason to be alone with Gail? If so, was that good news or bad news? The most dangerous threats are the ones you don’t anticipate.

“She’s not going to be happy,” Volpe said.

Gail was about to say that she’d be a lot happier than these two would be if she arrested them, but she caught a look from Harriett that made her swallow the words. Besides, she didn’t have the power to arrest anyone.

“I’ve got this, Paul,” Harriett said. “You can go back downstairs.”

Volpe didn’t like it. “You sure?”

“You almost started a gunfight,” Harriett said. “Nobody needs this to escalate. It’s between Sheriff McLain and Dr. Mitchell now. I’m stepping out of the middle.”

Volpe actually looked to Gail for support-an effort that lasted only a second.

“It’s not a security issue, Paul,” Harriett said, sealing the deal. “Let me do my job. You go back downstairs and do yours.”

That final comment felt to Gail like a throw-down, leading her to believe that these two had a past.

No one said anything for about ten seconds as the situation evolved into an uncomfortable standoff. Harriett wouldn’t even give Volpe the tiny victory of walking away from him. Instead, she waited while he rang for the elevator and disappeared behind the closing doors. At least the car came quickly.

When they were alone in the lobby, Harriett turned to Gail. “Okay, what’s going on around here?” Her tone was more plea than demand. “Why is everyone so crazy?”

Gail’s stomach flipped, but she covered it. “What do you mean?”

“You’re a cop,” Harriett said. “And you’re here. Please don’t play games. I’m scared.”

Jonathan Grave often said that life was one big poker game. Now, Gail had to play her hand carefully. “I’m here to help, Ms. Burke. But you must understand that my business is with Reverend Mitchell. I’m happy to listen to you and answer the questions I’m able to, but I can only be but so forthcoming.”

That sounded really good, she thought.

“Something terrible has happened in Dr. Mitchell’s life,” Harriett said. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s affecting everything. She looks terrible. She’s stopped taking any visitors. She’s positively gray.”

“Perhaps it’s the sex scandal,” Gail offered. Cops were all about advocating for the devil.

“No. That was an embarrassment and a distraction. I was here for that. That was never as big a deal as the media made it out to be.”

Gail scowled. She was a minister who had sex with a seventeen-year-old boy. How was it possible to make a big enough deal about that?

“Please don’t judge,” Harriett said.

So much for Gail’s poker face.

“You don’t begin to understand the pressures that Reverend Mitchell is under.”

“I’m not here about any of that,” Gail said. Just speaking of this stuff made her feel like she needed a shower.

“I understand,” Harriett said. “This new thing. I have no idea what it’s about but I know it’s bad. It’s tearing her apart.”

Gail’s cell phone rang. She fished it out of her jacket and looked at the number. Fisherman’s Cove. “Excuse me,” she said to Harriett. She turned away and pressed the connect button. “Hello?”

“Are you alone?” It was Venice, and there was urgency in her tone.

“No.”

“Oh.” Disappointment. “If you can extricate yourself from Jackie Mitchell, we have better leads for you to follow.”

“That’s not possible,” Gail spoke harshly, as if confronting a subordinate. She hoped that Venice would be able to read between the lines.

“Quickly, then,” Venice said. She relayed the news about the Georgens and the Cantrells. “We were thinking that it might be better to build from the bottom up instead of starting at the top.”

“I’ve got it,” Gail said. She clicked off, staying in character even as her mind raced for the best way to go. Fact was, she was already here. While a direct confrontation with the head of the snake would likely result in a fusillade of denials, it was sometimes helpful for an adversary to know that you knew they were up to no good.

On the other hand, you only got one shot at a first drink from the well. If Jackie Mitchell outmaneuvered Gail and got the upper hand, Mitchell could get the first shot at the Georgens and Cantrells, causing them to clam up forever.

Gail decided to play the hand she’d been dealt. “Sorry about that,” she said, turning back to Harriett. “What do you suspect the problem with Dr. Mitchell might be?”

“I have no idea.”

“Now who’s playing games?” Gail accused. “You engineered this opportunity to be alone with me. People who ‘have no idea’ don’t do that.”

Harriett took three steps over to the little sofa that sat along the wall opposite the elevator doors and sat down heavily. “I only screen the phone calls, you know? I don’t listen to them.”

Gail sensed that she was supposed to know what Harriett was talking about. “Except sometimes,” she helped.

Harriett tried to look wounded, but in reality looked like she’d been caught in the act.

“You brought it up, Ms. Burke,” Gail said.

Harriett inhaled deeply to prepare herself. “I’ve only done it a couple of times. When I thought that Dr. Mitchell might get taken advantage of. You can tell from the tone in some people’s voices. She can be so trusting sometimes. Naïve, even. That’s actually how she got involved with that boy. He swore to her that he was eighteen.”

“Again, I don’t care about that,” Gail said. “What did you hear on the phone calls?”

“There were a couple. It started with this creepy guy named Abrams. He had a thick New England accent, and just gave me the creeps. He had a scariness about him.”

Gail’s heart skipped. She’d dealt with a similar malevolent presence in the past. That name wasn’t Abrams, though.

“Do you know him?” Harriett asked.

Great intuition, Gail thought. “I don’t think I know anyone by that name.”

Harriett didn’t look like she bought the answer a hundred percent, but she didn’t pursue it. “Well, Abrams would call on behalf of Mr. Hainsley, a major contributor to the Crystal Palace. He would talk to Dr. Mitchell and arrange off-site meetings.”

“Where?”

“All over Scottsdale. Always in a public place.”

“How many meetings?”

“A lot. Ten or twelve, I’d guess.”

“And who is Mr. Abrams?”

“I have no idea. Dr. Mitchell never mentioned him, and since I wasn’t supposed to be listening, I couldn’t bring it up.” She dropped her voice by half. “Thing is, Dr. Mitchell always said yes to the meetings.”

“That’s significant?”

“Sheriff McLain, Dr. Mitchell runs an empire, okay? You have no idea how many moving parts there are, how hard she works. If she didn’t say no to people-frequently-she’d never have time for anything. It would all fall apart.”

Gail waited for the rest.

“She didn’t just say yes, okay? She dropped everything, like right now, to jump through hoops for him. She’d be gone for a couple of hours, and when she got back, it was like she’d sold a part of her soul. Whatever it was, it was eating her alive. I hated seeing that. She deserves better.”

“You must have some idea of what’s going on,” Gail said.

Harriett started to say something, but checked herself. She geared up again, and again stopped. This time, the silence prevailed.

“Does it have something to do with the kidnappings in Mexico?” Gail fired the question like a weapon.

“You know?” Harriett gasped.

Gail stayed in character. “This would be the perfect time to tell me everything you know, Harriett. If anything happens to those children, your window for negotiation will slam shut with startling speed.”

Harriett’s look of shock morphed into a look of horror. “You think I had something to do with that?”

“If you didn’t, I think you know who did. You at least know who would know. Under the law, that’s called being an accessory. You go to jail for that. This is your one and only chance to set it right.”

“Those children were taken by drug lords,” Harriett said. “How can you think even for a minute that-”

“The timing, Harriett,” Gail interrupted. “Think. When did the phone calls start?” This was pure bluff. “And when did Dr. Mitchell’s mood start turning dark?”

Harriett closed the loop quickly. She covered her mouth with her hand as the truth dawned on her. “Oh, my God. How can that be?”

“That’s what I’m here to find out.”

“I don’t know anything, Sheriff. You have to believe that.”

Gail offered a soothing smile. “I believe that you don’t think you know anything. I also believe that you’ve heard significant and important information. You just don’t realize it.”

“I really haven’t.” Panic was beginning to set in.

“You really have. You just haven’t thought it all the way through. For example, when Mr. Abrams called and asked to speak with Reverend Mitchell, what did he tell you?”

Harriett shrugged. “Nothing, really.”

Gail scowled. “He just said, ‘Hi, I want to speak to Jackie Mitchell’ and you said okay?”

Harriett made a face. “Of course not. He said he was calling on behalf of Mr. Hainsley.”

Gail sighed heavily. “Work with me here. You’re the assistant to a very powerful woman. No one gets past you without a compelling reason. What was Abrams’s compelling reason?”

“He said it was personal,” Harriett said. “When I pressed him for more, he wouldn’t give it. He said, ‘When you tell her it’s Mr. Abrams calling, I guarantee that she’ll take the call.’ Turns out he was right. I told Dr. Mitchell what he said, and she took the call.”

Gail’s bullshit alarm started to buzz in her head. “You’re telling me that you didn’t do any research on Mr. Abrams, even though these meetings had such a negative impact on your boss?”

Harriett blushed. “I checked a little.”

“And what did you find?”

“Nothing, actually.”

Gail waited for more.

“Okay, I heard him mention All American Industries as a company name. They’re very big donors to the cathedral. When I searched our database, though, I didn’t find his name.”

Gail recognized the company from Venice’s list. “They’re new donors, aren’t they?” she asked.

There was that shocked look again. “How do you know this?”

“Knowing things is how I make my living,” Gail said.

The elevator dinged, drawing Gail’s attention, and halting their conversation. It always happened this way. Just when you think you have control of a conversation somebody interrupts and-

It all registered in the space of a heartbeat.

She saw a shotgun. A man in a suit held it at port arms, poised across his chest to make room for it among all the other men and firearms in the elevator car.

The man with the shotgun made eye contact with Gail when the doors were still only six inches apart, and he brought the weapon to bear, aiming through the expanding opening.

She moved without thinking, grabbing a fistful of Harriett’s blouse and diving sideways onto the floor, pulling Harriett down with her. They were still in the air when the shotgun fired. Above and behind, Gail more sensed than saw the cushions of the sofa erupt in a cloud of fabric and foam rubber.

Harriett screamed, but Gail had no idea if she’d been hit, or was only frightened. She didn’t care. She didn’t have time to care.

By the time Gail rolled to her stomach, her Glock was already drawn and ready. That first shot had established the rules of engagement. The guys in the elevator were here to murder her, and that gave her license to shoot to kill anyone who showed his face.

They seemed to realize it, too, because no one stepped out. There was a lot of shouting, a lot of commotion, but no one showed himself. When the doors cycled closed, someone stuck the barrel of a weapon out just far enough to cycle it again.

Their diddling gave Gail the opportunity to move, and she decided to capitalize on it. “Are you hurt?” she asked Harriett.

“What’s happening?”

“Are you hurt?”

“I-I don’t think so.”

Rising to a knee, Gail one-handed her Glock, aiming it at the cycling doors, and with the other, she smacked Harriett on the shoulder and pointed to the exit door to her right. “Go to the stairs,” she ordered. Access to the emergency exit wouldn’t require them to pass in front of the elevator.

“But what-”

The guy with the shotgun-Gail saw now that it was a Winchester pump-pivoted out of the elevator car with the weapon to his shoulder, ready to shoot.

Gail nailed him high in the forehead. He fell dead in a spray of bone and brain matter without touching his trigger.

Harriett screamed again. “Oh, God-”

“The stairs!” Gail shouted it this time, vaguely worried that she’d given too much information to the bad guys. Then again, given the options from the fourteenth floor, the emergency exit wasn’t all that hard to anticipate. It sounded as if the guys inside the elevator were beginning to panic. It didn’t help that the dead guy’s foot was keeping the door from closing.

Harriett scrambled along the floor, her face and belly barely above the carpet, and her extremities moving as if she were trying to gain footing on ice.

As always happened to Gail in high-stress encounters, time seemed to slow and she became aware of every detail of her surroundings. She held her aim at the elevator, covering Harriett’s escape. These guys had been caught off guard by the fact that Gail was right there when they opened the door, and that had thrown them off their plan. But ten seconds had passed since then, and one of their own had been killed. They weren’t going to stay under cover for long. And when they showed themselves, they were going to be pissed.

When Harriett finally found her feet, she bolted out the emergency exit, slamming the door open hard enough for it to rebound off the concrete block wall of the stairwell.

As Gail had expected, the attackers interpreted the noise as their cue that it was safe to move.

One took a half step out the door, but the muzzle of his pistol wasn’t pointed at Gail, so she fired two quick rounds into the stainless-steel frame, just to drive him back inside, and then it was time for her to go, too.

Never breaking her aim, she backed quickly toward the door, found the latch with her left hand, and slipped through, into the escape well. Harriett’s footsteps three floors below made a strange flap-clack sound as she tried to run in her girlie sandals.

Gail searched for something with which to block the door shut, but a glance told her that it was fruitless. She started down the stairs quickly but carefully, never turning her back on the door from the fourteenth floor. This was when she would be most vulnerable, and she wasn’t about to give them a fleeing target to shoot.

Why weren’t they following? She was a nearly stationary target. If these attackers had a mind in their head, they would-

Then she got it.

“Harriett!” she yelled. “Stop!”