jumped into a sedan and took off,” Canadian Border Services agent Nathaniel Longhorn offered. A First Nation descendant, Nathaniel kept his black hair long and tied back with a leather strap. He was lean, muscular and deadly with a knife. Drew was glad to have him on his team. “I’ve radioed in the license plate to the Vancouver police and to the border crossing.”
“Secure the scene and wait for Forensics to show,” Drew instructed. Then he handed the evidence bag containing the credit card to Justin. “Run the name. Find out where this was last used and see if you can track down the man.”
Justin peered at the credit card. “Will do.”
“Whoever that card belongs to is a potential victim, if not dead already,” Sami interjected.
Blake slid his gaze to her. “You sound sure, Special Agent Bennett. And yes, I did check on your credentials.” He smirked. “Your boss is eager to talk to you.”
Sami glanced at Drew, then back to Blake. “I am sure.”
Interesting that she didn’t elaborate or acknowledge Blake’s remark that her boss wanted to talk to her. She’d indicated that no one took her claim of a serial killer seriously. Was her presence here unsanctioned?
He wasn’t sure if he was on board with the whole serial-killer angle either but he did have a dead body to contend with.
To the men, he said, “Call me when you know anything. I’m taking Special Agent Bennett to headquarters.”
At Sami’s questioning look, he added, “You can call your boss from there. The IBETs team works out of the consulate general’s building on West Pender Street here in Vancouver. The consul general along with US Homeland Security provide oversight for IBETs as well as other binational interagency task forces.”
“So I was right. You are working together as a joint team,” she murmured, her gaze raking over the men.
“Yes. We’re part of the Integrated Border Enforcement Teams—IBETs. There are several such task forces across the shared border between our two countries. Need to keep everyone safe, eh?”
A faint smile touched her lips. “Yes, I’m aware. Can I have my gun and ID back?”
Blake removed the Glock he’d tucked into the waistband of his jeans. “Here you go, princess.”
Her lip curled.
Drew suppressed a smile, though he didn’t condone the rudeness of his fellow team member. Blake handed over her ID and Drew gestured for Sami to follow him to where he’d stashed his vehicle. “This way.”
He opened the passenger door to his twenty-year-old Land Cruiser.
“Sweet ride,” she said as she slid inside.
He wasn’t into fancy and new. “I like vintage.”
When he climbed into the driver’s seat, she said, “I have a 1964 Chevrolet Corvair convertible that was my father’s. It runs but needs an overhaul. One of these days I’ll have the car restored.”
“Nice. What color?”
“Baby blue.”
Like her eyes. “Pretty.”
“It was Dad’s pride and joy back in the day.”
He didn’t miss the note of pride and affection in her tone. “Where’s he now?”
“He and Mom live in Seaside, Oregon.”
“Your hometown?”
“Yep. Born and raised Oregonian.” She described the beachside town in great detail while drumming her fingers on her knee. He sensed her monologue stemmed from nervous energy. Her words made him curious enough to want to visit the ocean town. If only to see it the way she did. She obviously loved her parents and the community she grew up in.
When she fell silent, he asked, “How did you decide to become a federal agent?”
She didn’t immediately answer. As the silence stretched, he figured she wasn’t going to respond. Then she said, “I have this deep-seated need to see justice done.”
Her answer resonated within him. He, too, felt the same drive. He slanted her a glance. Her face was turned away, and she stared out at the passing city. A clear signal that she was done with the conversation. He decided to honor the unspoken request.
When they arrived at the consulate building, Drew parked in his usual spot. They entered the skyscraper and took the elevator to the fifth floor. Drew ushered Sami to the IBETs offices. Few lights glowed in the quiet building. The cubicles and offices were empty. In the corner office where he had his desk, he gestured for her to take a seat in one of the two red upholstered chairs facing the desk. “You can use the desk phone to call your boss.”
She didn’t sit. Instead she produced a cell phone from one of her pants pockets. “I’ll step out into the hall.”
Nodding, he rounded the large oak desk to sit in the leather captain’s chair. “I’ll take you to your hotel after I write my report.” And put her on the next plane back to the United States. He couldn’t have her running around messing up any more operations.
He watched her silently leave the office, her back straight, her chin level. He wondered what shade of blond her hair was underneath the dark stocking cap. Giving himself a mental shake, he opened an email window and copied the people in charge of the IBETs program—the consulate general, the deputy director for US Homeland Security and the RCMP deputy commissioner of federal policing.
He quickly detailed the events of the evening, as well as his assessment that there might be a potential serial killer on the loose but that he had to do further research before moving on this information. He wasn’t ready to buy into Sami’s claim yet, despite the sincerity of the pretty agent.
* * *
“You are supposed to be on vacation, Agent Bennett.” Special Agent in Charge Rob Granger’s voice boomed into Sami’s ear. “Why are you in Vancouver, interloping on an IBETs investigation?”
Sami rubbed the bridge of her nose with her free hand while she stood in the hallway a few feet from Drew’s office. The carpet beneath her feet had a dizzying geometric pattern that added to the headache brewing behind her eyes.
She turned her back to Drew’s open door while she quickly explained to her boss her theory that Birdman had set her up. “There was no drug deal going down. It was a trap.”
“If that is true, Agent Bennett, all the more reason for you to back off.”
“Sir, he’s escalating.” She told him about the credit card. “Something has changed. If I stop now, how many more people will die? I can’t let this go.”
Granger’s voice dropped. “You’re a good agent, Samantha. With a promising career ahead of you. I would hate to see you throw all that away on a personal vendetta.”
“This isn’t a vendetta.” Personal, yes. Lisa was like a sister. But Sami wanted to see justice done, as she’d told Drew. She didn’t want any more lives lost. “Sir, please, let me follow the clues where they lead.”
“You really do believe there’s a case here?”
“I do, sir. And it’s within the purview of our office.”
“Then we need to assemble a team. Get a profiler involved. Go through the proper protocol. I’ll contact the Legat there in Vancouver and get the ball rolling.”
The FBI had sub offices located in various parts of the world. The Legats—legal attachés—liaison with the governing authorities. Canada had three sub offices operating in Vancouver, Toronto and the main sub office in Ottawa. Though Sami would appreciate any help they could provide it would take time. Time that James Clark might not have. Or the next victim and the next.
“That sounds great, sir, but in the