Page 52 of Deadly Target
Victor tapped a thumb on the steering wheel. “In all honesty, I’m not sure there is a stalker at all. Something isn’t right about this. I spoke to Tracee’s publicist, manager, and several others on her team, and none know anything about this supposed stalker. The security agency has no alert, and I spoke to Tracee’s regular bodyguard earlier, and he hadn’t seen anything unusual, nor had she mentioned being concerned or scared.”
Roman wiped his face off with a hand. “I saw the tabloids. Is she trying to get you back?”
“Initially, I thought that might be the case. We were together four years, and we’ve now been separated for over three. Why she would wait that long is beyond me. I don’t believe that’s the reason.”
“Maybe it took her a while to realize she’s really in love with you.”
Love. It caused people to do a lot of crazy things, but he suspected there was another reason. He needed to resolve this and get to Olivia. He’d told her he’d meet her in two hours, and he was already running late. As soon as he wrapped this up, he’d call and let her know to grab the extra key from his neighbor, Mrs. Preston, and let herself in.
Should have told her to do that in the first place.
He just hadn’t known how this situation with his ex was going to play out, and there was so much riding on the line right now. His taskforce members were still in danger, his boss was not putting any pressure on the judge for an arrest warrant for Frankie, and Tracee had been calling him nonstop all afternoon.
Lightning flashed, and thunder boomed as if mirroring the raging storm in his work and personal lives.
Tracee had sounded sick when he’d spoken to her earlier that evening. Or maybe strung out. “I think my ex is tied up with drug dealers. I’m not sure whether it has anything to do with the Kings or the mafia, but my gut is telling me something is wrong with the whole setup.”
Roman sat back, wiping his wet hands on his pant legs. “Off the record, I had Polly check Tracee’s emails and recent phone calls. None were to any known criminals.”
Victor shot him a look. “You illegally accessed my ex’s emails and phone calls?”
“I prefer the termpreemptiveto illegal. As a Homeland employee, I have wide permissions to investigate anyone I believe is in contact with criminals involved in terrorist activities, but it’s probably better you pretend I didn’t tell you about the invasion of privacy.”
In some ways, it was a relief Roman and his group hadn’t found any direct contact with the mafia or cartel. “When we were together, she used a burner phone to contact her drug dealer.”
“Well, there’s still a chance she isn’t being completely honest with you, and neither of us wants to walk in blind. I canvassed the neighborhood on the way here, but I’ll do another drive-by before you go up. Are you wired?”
Victor handed him the receiver. He wore the same wire that Olivia had with Alfonso. “We should be good to go.”
Roman nodded and slipped it inside a jacket pocket. “What’s the code word?”
Victor chuckled at the old school tactic. “How about ‘help?’”
Under the glow of the streetlight, the HS agent looked disappointed. “Kinda tame, but if that’s what you want, okay.”
Roman grabbed the door handle. “I’ll park as close to the building as I can, but they won’t let me in downstairs unless I flash my badge since I don’t know anyone who lives there. If you suspect anything, don’t be shy about using the signal so I have time to bust in and back you up, partner.”
Victor truly hoped he didn’t need it.
* * *
Raisinga girl in this day and age was harder than planning a coup of a mob syndicate.
Alfie listened to his daughter crying on the other end of the line and silently swore he was going to round up the bullies in her class and teach them all a lesson. “Mary Margaret, you know what I told you about those girls being jealous of you. That’s why they say those things. You can’t listen to them.”
Several girls were harassing her again, and come morning, Alfie would make sure it stopped, one way or another. Either the school was going to take action or he was.
Tracee Tyson sat on her couch, staring at her big-screen TV but not seeming to see it. She’d already gone through what he’d given her the other night and was in the midst of withdrawal. Junkies were always easiest to manipulate when they needed a hit, and Alfie had decided it was time to use the hand dealt him.
Goddamn me to hell if I raise a daughter as stupid as Tracee.
It took another minute to calm down Mary Margaret and get her off the phone, including several promises to bring home her favorite ice cream. He would do anything for his daughter, and those little brats at school we’re going to learn a lesson about messing with her. Their parents weren’t going to enjoy it either, because God help him, they were as bad as the kids anymore.
Tucking the phone away, he checked the handgun he’d brought for Tracee. Thanks to a friend, it was registered in her name and backdated to 2016. Everything was in place to take down the FBI director, and it would look like his ex-girlfriend had done the deed before turning the gun on herself.
He wasn’t the first in his family to have helped a famous actress die tragically with drugs in her veins, and Alfie hoped this little gig would go off without a hitch. The killing part he didn’t mind, but he was a little squeamish about the blood—unbeknownst to anyone in the syndicate—and he had to be sure he took Victor by surprise.
He added a silencer and double-checked his props. Everything was in place and the director was due any minute. As soon as he had Dupé out of the way, Olivia would be all his.
