Page 27 of Shielding his Legacy (Shattered SEALs #7)

The state troopers had put Gavin in the back of a squad car and left him there, shooting the shit with each other until the cruiser with Eva and Abby inside had been gone a solid half hour.

Then they’d let him out with a casual, you’re free to go, sir.

Now he was doing eighty-five miles-an-hour down the New York State Thruway while Sloan talked to Jax Anderson on the phone. The former head of HERO Force Atlanta, Jax was known to have connections all across the east coast, including higher-ups in the New York City PD.

“I see sir, yes,” said Sloan. “The first deputy commissioner. And he understands what we need him to do?”

“Put it on speaker,” barked Gavin, unable to tolerate being left out of this particular conversation.

“…for the video recording,” said Jax.

“Sir, this is Gavin DeGrey. Can you repeat that please, sir?” He could all but feel Sloan’s look of warning, right along with Jax’s raised eyebrow more than a thousand miles away. And he didn’t give a shit about either one.

“I said, everything’s all set at the station. They have a camera setup for the video recording,” said Jax.

Gavin forced his clenched fingers to relax on the wheel before he lost feeling completely. “Mock recording,” he corrected.

“Right,” said Jax. “The video will be streamed from the interrogation room into a large conference room with the entire task force present, as well as to the cloud and your own devices. Every detective on organized crime will know that Eva’s in the building and that she’s ready to produce a photograph of the murderer. ”

A chill ran up Gavin’s spine at the sheer number of people in that room who might want to hurt Eva.

Who knew how many detectives were involved?

Best case scenario, it was only one highly trained, highly regarded, well-armed police officer.

But it could be two. Hell, it could be a goddamn dozen, for all he knew. “Thank you for setting this up, sir.”

“Call me Jax. Is there anything else I can do for you, men? I’d offer you backup, but it would take hours for it to arrive.”

“We’ll be all right, sir,” said Gavin. “Jax.”

“We’re going to kick some dirty cop ass,” said Sloan. “Thanks for your help, Jax.”

Gavin echoed the sentiment and Sloan hung up.

“I fucking hate this,” grumbled Gavin.

“What? The jerky?” asked Sloan, taking a bite of the snack he’d brought with him. In the closed vehicle, the jerky smelled like a cross between dirty sweat socks and robust body odor.

Gavin had eaten none of it. “No, idiot. Not being with her while she plays bait to a goddamn piranha. And we’re thirty fucking minutes behind her.” He’d wanted to take the chopper, but a Nor’easter had setup over the east coast and flying wasn’t an option.

Trace chimed in, “We will be inside that building with a direct line into the interrogation room where Eva’s being interviewed. By the time the dirty cop makes his move, we’ll be in position to pounce. You’ve got nothing to worry about, DeGrey.”

They drove the rest of the way in near silence, with Sloan offering snacks like the host at a cocktail party, Gavin driving too fast, and Trace seemingly lost in his thoughts, one foot tapping to the music on a tiny pair of in-ear headphones.

Rush hour traffic was moving at a steady crawl in the opposite direction, leaving Gavin free to continue driving like a madman right through the Holland Tunnel. “You might wanna not get us all dead before we get there,” drawled Trace.

“You want to drive, Deliverance?” snapped Gavin.

“Sure thing, Slick.”

“Well too bad.” Gavin shook his head in frustration.

Sloan bent at the waist, rifling through a large khaki duffel at his feet. When he straightened, he held a small canvas satchel with a long strap.

“Jesus Christ, not the purse,” grumbled Trace.

Sloan fixed the strap around his waist. “It is not a purse, it’s a fanny pack. And it’s useful.”

Gavin couldn’t help the roll of his eyes. “You look like my Grandpa Joe.”

Police headquarters showed on his GPS with the icon for a finish line flag.

Gavin pulled down a steep incline into a parking garage that quickly became subterranean.

The ceiling was barely six feet tall, and it gave the impression the underground structure was on the verge of collapsing beneath the weight of the city above.

The sound of a loud zipper was followed by that of an inhaler being used. “I hate these coffin-motherfucking-parking-garages,” said Sloan.

“They’ve just started transmitting,” Champion said, urgency in his voice. “No sign of Eva yet.” The car spiraled down deeper into the earth as Gavin looked for a spot. Champion sighed. “And, we lost the transmission.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” quipped Sloan.

“Goddamn children,” Gavin muttered. “You’re both goddamn children.” Finding a spot, he parked and moved to get out.

“Leave your sidearm in the car,” said Champion. “No weapons in the police station.”

He was right, of course, but as Gavin took his Sig Sauer out of his ankle holster, he felt an acute sense of impending dread. If he could have snuck the weapon past a metal detector, he would have done it in a heartbeat. The trio jogged up to street level. “You back online?” Gavin barked.

Champion pulled out his cell phone. “Yes. Video feed’s live and Eva’s in the interrogation room. Looks like she’s waiting for them to begin.”

The men bobbed and weaved through pedestrian traffic, finally pushing into police headquarters. “We’re here to see Deputy Commissioner Jacoby,” said Gavin.

A uniformed officer behind the desk eyed them critically. “And you are?”

“Gavin DeGrey and company. He’s expecting us.”

The officer tapped a thin stack of papers on the desk, then lined up the corner in an automatic stapler like he was playing Operation and the motion had to be perfectly aligned. The machine let out a single ka-chunk.

Gavin took in the stack of collated papers to the officer’s left and seriously considered shaking the other man. He glanced at his nametag. “Officer Stenzel, it’s imperative we see the commissioner immediately.”

“Yeah,” said Trace, sounding like the right-hand man to a sixth-grade bully, and earning him an annoyed glance from Gavin.

Stenzel looked from one to the other, sighed, then picked up his phone and dialed an extension, waiting several seconds. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Gavin DeGrey.” Gavin was squirming with anxiety. Eva’s interview had probably begun. They needed to get in the commissioner’s office, now.

A woman spoke behind them. “Afternoon, gentlemen.”

He twisted around to find Marina, HERO Force’s therapist, walking by with a backpack slung over one shoulder.

She leaned in as she passed, saying quietly, “Wonderful day for an ambush, don’t you think?

” She winked and continued down the hall, stopping suddenly before going by Sloan. “Nice satchel,” she crooned.

“Thank you very much, Miss.” He turned a smug grin in Trace’s direction. “You see that? Complete strangers find my satchel intriguing.”

“Fuckin’ purse,” Trace muttered.

“Uh, yessir, Gavin Degree is here?” said the officer, as if he were asking a question of the commissioner instead of stating a fact. Gavin dropped his chin to his chest and quickly righted it again. The officer hung up the phone. “You guys can go ahead. End of the hall on the left.”

Gavin all but bolted away. “Thank you.” He knocked on a frosted glass door labeled Deputy Commissioner and forced himself to regulate his breathing.

With a little bit of luck, Eva was still being interrogated and perfectly safe.

Marina let them know she was here, ready to play her part in their scheme.

Now they just needed the mole on the task force to take the bait and go after Eva before she could share her evidence. Little did the mole know, it was actually Marina who’d be waiting for him, with Eva and Abby safe in another location.

The door opened, a wiry middle-aged man with pale skin and ruddy cheeks flashing a politician’s smile. “Gentlemen! I was just beginning to worry about you. Come in.”

Gavin was the first in the room, his gaze homing in on the TV screen in the corner of the room. Eva sat at a table in an interrogation room with a plainclothes officer sitting across from her. “How long ago did they start?” asked Gavin.

Commissioner Jacoby closed the door behind them. “About thirty minutes. As I said, I was getting concerned something had happened.”

“That’s a lovely cactus,” said Sloan. “Have you had it since it was little?”

“Who’s the officer interrogating her?” asked Gavin, pleased when Jacoby ignored Dvorak and answered, “That’s detective Perkins.”

“Is he on the task force?”

“No. He’s with special victims. I thought it best to keep the task force out of the interview itself.”

Gavin was beginning to calm down. He could see Eva on the screen, knew she was in the building, and believed she was safe. “Good. Where will she go when they switch?”

“A supply closet down the hall. It’s a decent sized room. Officer Johanssen will stay with her.”

Gavin crossed his arms. “Is he on the task force?”

Jacoby smirked tightly. “Johanssen is a rookie. No members of the task force will be in direct contact with Miss Livingston.”

“Good,” said Gavin and Trace in unison. Sloan took a lollipop out of the candy dish on Jacoby’s desk, unwrapped it, and put it in his mouth.

“Listen, gentlemen. I understand your concerns about the possibility of a mole in my department. But I don’t agree those concerns reflect reality. These officers are some of the finest, most decorated professionals in the NYPD.”

Sloan took the sucker out of his mouth with a loud pop. “I find corruption exists at all levels of public service, decorated professionals and cacti lovers alike.”

Jacoby looked taken aback. He opened his mouth to respond, but Sloan walked in front of him and pointed to the TV. “Turn that up, would ya, Trace? I want to hear this.” Plopping onto Jacoby’s couch from some height, he put his feet on the coffee table and crossed them at the ankle.

Trace turned up the television while Jacoby pinched the skin between his eyes. Eva was talking. “…contest. It was thirty-five-millimeter film, not digital.”

“And did you develop this film yourself?” asked the interrogator.

“No. I don’t have access to a dark room. I took it to a shop.”

“What shop was that?”

She hesitated. “I’d rather not say.”

“And why is that, Miss Livingston?”

“I just don’t see how it’s relevant.”

“This shop had access to the film in question. Anyone who worked on it could have tampered with it in some way.”

“I don’t believe it’s been tampered with.”

“It’s important from an evidentiary perspective that we know who developed the film.”

“Well, I’m not going to tell you.”

The corners of Gavin’s mouth lifted into a grin. “She doesn’t want to give them any other witnesses to threaten. Good girl.”

“One man’s ‘good girl’ is another man’s obstructor of justice.”

It was Jacoby who’d spoken, and all three men slowly turned to stare him down.

“Can we take a break?” asked Eva. “I’d like to take care of my daughter.”

The interrogator scootched his chair in more tightly to the table. “Soon. I have a few more questions.”

Eva crossed her arms. “I’m not telling you who developed the film.”

“Then let’s talk about what’s in the pictures.”

Sloan popped out his sucker again and pointed it at the TV. “Does this clown know this isn’t a real interrogation?”

“He knows the task force is watching,” said Jacoby.

Gavin turned toward him, noting the politician’s grin had vanished, one arched eyebrow now the dominant feature on the deputy commissioner’s face. “And?” Gavin asked.

Now Jacoby smiled, but it wasn’t a pleasant grin. “And he might be playing along with your agenda, but he’s going to make Miss Livingston sweat—or he’ll look like an inept interrogator in front of his peers.”

“What if she needs to take care of her baby?” asked Gavin, suddenly questioning if Jacoby—or anyone in the police force—was truly, unquestionably trustworthy.

“Then maybe she should answer the man’s questions.” Jacoby leaned back in his leather chair. “I’d sit back and relax, gentlemen. This is our show now.”