The Darkness of Evil (Karen Vail #7)(39)

Vail and Curtis left the trailer, Vail offering to drive.

“Where are we on the three of them?”

“Johnson did some of the grunt work, looked into their whereabouts, and put together some solid dossiers. She did a nice job.”

“I would’ve told you if she was going to be a problem. Leslie’s a good cop. She’ll have your back.” Vail turned right onto Lincolnia Road. “Where to?”

“Hood bridge.”

“What bridge?”

Curtis laughed. “Woodbridge, in Prince William County. What we call it, you know?”

“Because it’s got some high crime areas?”

“Hey, I didn’t coin the phrase. Fair or not, I wasn’t surprised this joker lives there.”

“Which one?”

“We’ve only got a twenty on Vincent Stuckey. Johnson’s still working on Scott MacFarlane and Booker Gaines—the one Jasmine said was following her in the store.”

“You got a phone number for Stuckey?”

Curtis squinted, then pulled out his cell and thumbed through his emails. “Yeah. You thinking of calling him?”

“Just want to make sure he’s there. Don’t want to make a wasted trip.”

He read off the number and she dialed her Samsung. It rang three times before a male voice picked up the line.

“This is UPS and we’ve got a package for Vincent Stuckey. Is Mr. Stuckey available?”

“Yeah, that’s me. But why are you calling? Don’t you guys just show up?”

“This is our third attempt,” Vail said, “and it’s marked for signature. Our driver can’t leave it at the door. You going to be around awhile so I can get you your package?”

“Be home for another hour, then I gotta take off. Who’s it from?”

“Sorry, sir. I only have the tracking information. Would you like the number?”

“No. Jus’ get here in the next hour.”

Vail hung up, a grin thinning her lips. “He’s there.”

THEY ARRIVED AT DALE CITY APARTMENTS, a series of attached four-story red brick buildings with thick-trunked oak trees that lined the periphery.

Curtis had briefed her on the drive over, filling her in on the backgrounder that Johnson had assembled. Vail parked at the curb and leaned forward, her eyes surveying the complex.

“You’re thinking he’ll run if he sees us coming.”

Vail sat back and faced Curtis. “If he’s involved with Marcks’s escape, yeah. There’s a risk.”

“You got a UPS box in the trunk?”

“Funny.” Vail popped open her door. “Let’s split up, take a quick look around, see how many ways in and out there are. A place this size, gotta be a few.”

Vail made her way around the building exterior, then headed inside and found a map of the property. There were several exits, but based on Stuckey’s apartment number, they would be able to approach his place with exposure to only one.

She called Curtis and told him what she had learned, and a couple of minutes later he met her on the fourth floor, down the hall from Stuckey’s door. “Only way out is off the terrace. Right into the pool. He jumps, I’m not sure we’ll have enough time to get down there and fish him out.”

“Not a problem. We can handle it.”

“With the task force,” Vail said, “manpower isn’t an issue. We can have a couple of guys here in twenty minutes.”

Curtis checked his watch. “He’s here now. I’m not interested in waiting. He goes off the balcony, I’ll go after him. You can run around the building.”

With the temperature hovering around thirty-five degrees, Vail could not find fault with that division of tasks. “Works for me.”

They walked up to the door and Curtis drew back his coat, placing a hand on his SIG Sauer; he used Vail to shield Stuckey’s view.

She knocked and focused her attention on listening for unusual noises emanating from the apartment. Seconds later she heard the footsteps of someone approaching. There was no peephole lens.

“Who is it? UPS?”

“Karen from next door. I think I found something of yours in the hall.”

“What kind of ‘something’?”

“A wallet with, like, two hundred dollars in it. It was right outside your apartment. Gotta be yours. I was thinking maybe you can spot me a twenty for turning it in.”

The knob rattled and the door pulled open. Stuckey made eye contact with Vail and then bent left to get a view of Curtis—but Vail shifted right, catching Stuckey’s gaze. “I didn’t really find a wallet, Vincent. I’m FBI. Can we talk?”

He looked past her, taking in the hallway.

He’s thinking about running.

“We’ve got seven agents outside in case you plan to jump off your balcony. And it’s really friggin’ cold outside, so that pool water’s gonna go right down to your bones. So—how about we just sit and chat for a few minutes. And then we’ll be out of your hair. Promise.”

Stuckey chewed his lip a second. “There ain’t no wallet?”

Vail blinked. He’s not smiling. That wasn’t a joke. “No wallet. Sorry.”

“What’s this about then?”