CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

 

 

Micah stared out the window of Starbucks, watching Union Station across the street. The morning sun colored the building, lightening the beige stone.

Last night, he’d slept fifteen feet away from where he and Layne had killed Alec Auerbach. Actually, Layne had done the deed, but Micah had stood there and watched it happen. He’d been a part of it.

This wasn’t the first time Micah had seen someone bleed to death in front of him. It wasn’t even the first time Micah had been involved in the killing of a person. But, since entering Witness Protection, he had never taken a life without good reason, whether to protect someone or stop someone bad.

Alec was certainly a bad person. No, Alec’s death bothered Micah for a different reason. It was the first time since changing his name and moving to Denver that Micah had brought violence home with him.

Something he’d hoped he would never have to do again. He didn’t want to perpetuate violence of any kind. He had enough reminders of that whenever he moved his arms or legs, after the bruising that asshole cop had given him last night.

He took the severed head of Boba Fett and set him on the table in front of him. Boba didn’t like spending all his time cooped up in Micah’s pockets.

“Been a rough week, Boba.”

Boba Fett stared back at him. The little piece of plastic was incapable of nodding sympathetically, but Micah believed it would if it could.

Micah’s phone buzzed, and he checked it to see that he had a new email. He glanced at the email subject, a notification of a new blog post at the Inside WitSec blog. Time was short, he’d have to read it later. As soon as he finished this coffee, he was going to hit the road to Vail, to meet Frank. He’d wasted too much time already finding a charger that would fit his new taser gun, and then waiting for it to fully juice.

Micah hadn’t spoken to Layne after he’d left last night. He and Layne had finished up their business mostly in silence, and Micah had rushed him back to his Harley so he could get on the road. To whatever strange business he had to attend to up in Cheyenne. This big secret business meeting he wouldn’t talk about besides spitting vague phrases about how important it was.

Layne was an odd man, sometimes. Secretive, private.

Micah smiled down at Boba Fett’s head, because he’d only known Layne for three or four days. Layne had a right to his privacy, and Micah had no idea what was normal for him. Or anyone, really.

Layne had saved his ass a couple times now, so there was no reason to doubt the guy. Plus, Layne wasn’t any weirder than the kind of person who would talk to a Star Wars action figure in the middle of a populated coffee shop.

Micah drained the last of his coffee and tossed the empty into the trash can. As he stood, he spied a familiar face across the street, paying for a magazine at a news kiosk in front of Union Station.

Gavin Belmont, US Marshal.

Micah narrowed his eyes, slid on his coat, and left Starbucks. He barely checked at the crosswalk to see if any cars were coming, then made a straight line to Gavin, once he was on the Union Station side of the street.

“Gavin,” Micah said.

Gavin stopped short and lifted his magazine in greeting. “Good morning. I was coming to see you, actually. Thought I’d catch you before you left for work this morning.”

Micah thought about his condo, cleaned of Alec’s blood and fingerprints. Had he and Layne been thorough? Would it stand up to Gavin’s—or anyone else’s—scrutiny? They’d doused the body with bleach before dumping it near the warehouse, hoping to send a message to the dirty cops. But there was no guarantee they hadn’t missed something.

“I’m not going to work today,” Micah said.

Gavin raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Why not? Have you reconsidered my offer?”

Micah eased closer, within a foot of the Marshal. “No, I haven’t. I’m staying in Denver.”

“I’m not going to wait around for you to pick a side, Micah.”

“Listen to me. You want to do some good? Then this is what you’re going to do.”

Gavin smirked. “I’m all ears.”

“There are some dirty cops in this town. They’re in league with Nathan and Alec Auerbach, and Tomás Zaluski. They’ve been working the illegal organ trade.”

Gavin’s smirk leveled. “Okay, go on.”

“Sounds like you’ve heard about this.”

“There’s been an ongoing investigation by the FBI, but I don’t know much about it. Just bits and pieces I’ve heard in passing.”

“Something is going down tonight in Vail. You and your Marshal buddies, or the FBI, or I-don’t-care-who, need to get off your asses and arrest these people. One of them is a fugitive, so that should put it in your jurisdiction, right?”

“Is he a federal fugitive?”

Micah shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

Gavin frowned. “I can’t pull together some big task force within a day. It’s not possible. I need proof, Micah, and I need time.”

Micah held out his phone, flipping through the pictures he’d taken at the makeshift surgery room in the warehouse. Only now did he realize he’d been too distracted at the time to snap a picture of the dead woman on the gourney.

Micah stopped scrolling when he found the picture of the chubby cop. “I don’t know this cop’s name, but his badge number is 402. He was at the warehouse and he pulled a gun on me. He was arrested last night. Can you find out if he’s weaseled out of it?”

“How did you get those pictures?”

Micah slipped his phone back into his pocket. “That’s my business. Your business is to stop these people. Understand?”

Gavin turned up his palms. “I can see you’re upset about this and you want to turn the world upside down, but I need more information. I need time to put something together. Why don’t you come with me to the FBI’s field office here and we can set up a meeting with some agents?”

“I don’t have time.”

Gavin pursed his lips, beginning to show his anger. “Then what do you expect me to do?”

“Come to Vail. Today.”

Gavin bared his teeth. “I don’t know who you think you’re talking to. You don’t give me orders.”

“One more thing. There’s a woman who lives in my building named Daisy Cortez. She needs help getting shared custody of her son. You can make that happen.”

Now Gavin actually laughed. “Anything else? Need me to pick you up some Powerball tickets?”

Micah stared down Gavin for a moment, then he turned and walked away. Gavin was going to help or he wasn’t. Micah had no control over it.

“Come back here,” Gavin said. “I need to know where you got those pictures, Micah. We’re not done here.”

Micah kept walking, but Gavin didn’t follow him. That meant the Marshal believed him, or at least a little part of him did. Micah had to hope it would be enough.