Jinxed – Chapter 10 – Contain Yourself
The first thing Mary noticed when she woke up was that she was cold. Her mind did a quick rundown of what she remembered about where she was. Jersey, winter, snow. Yup, that means cold. But she was warm throughout the night. Cozy even. Eyes still closed, her brain slowly got in gear. Patting the bed next to her she noticed something, make that someone, was missing.
A key grated in the lock. The unmistakeable sound of metal on metal. Her eyes flew open and her hand went to the Glock under her pillow. By the time the door slowly open she had it pointed at the door. And Marshall.
Even though he knew the gun was loaded, Marshall couldn't help but smile at the picture before him. A sleep tousled blonde in a frowzy oversize t-shirt, no bra, and a gun. Doesn't get hotter than that. He realized he'd better show her the food and get her to stand down.
Mary lowered the gun and brushed the hair out of her eyes. Now that she was awake, her stomach reminded her of last night's inadequate dinner. Marshall could see the interest spark in her eyes as the smell of bacon wafted out of the bag he was carrying.
"I come bearing gifts. You wouldn't shoot the guy bringing you breakfast would you?"Given their current precarious circumstances, he probably would have had the same reaction. Yesterday's attack, their emotion laden discussion, and their failure to find Jinx all weighed heavily on him. But it's Mary's mother. It was Mary who was assaulted. He was determined to lighten her burden, and finally find Jinx. Today.
"Jeez Doofus. Whatever happened to a wake up call?" Mary threw the covers back. Marshall waited, white bags of breakfast in hand, and gazed at Mary. Noticing that he was still standing, staring, she snarked, "Take a picture, Doofus. It will last longer."
Great idea. Breakfast went on the tiny table. Marshall reached for his phone and quickly snapped a photo before Mary realized what he was doing.
"What the hell?" She exclaimed.
"Are you crazy? I just got up, my hair looks like it's been styled with a Mixmaster and you think it's Kodak time?" She threatened, "That better not end up in the locker room or on FaceBook, buddy. If I hear about that photo from anybody but you, I will nail your hide to the WITSEC wall." Marshall checked his phone, smiled at the photo, and put it back in his pocket.
"Here you go, Miss Grumpy Bear." He handed her a cup of coffee.
"Don't call me grumpy bear, damn paparazzi," She replied.
"Since there is only one of me, the correct word is paparazzo," he enlightened her.
Before taking a sip of coffee she groused, "And I should care because. .. . ." Mary combed her hair out of her face and moved to the table cradling her precious caffeine. She took a sip and sat, opening an insulated foam container.
"Once words are used for things they don't mean, the listener becomes confused, and communication becomes obfuscation. In other words, it no longer communicates." Marshall intoned.
"Hey, Mr. Webster, give it a rest already. Just because you are all bright eyed and bushy tailed doesn't mean ..." The rest of the sentence was muffled by a big bite of pancake .
"Ah, no. I'm well aware of your gloomy persona first thing in the morning." Despite her grumpiness, Marshall felt privileged to see Mary before she put on her marshal mask. She was cynical. But in their business, that was a good thing. Paranoia comes with the job and this past week, gave her every reason to be paranoid. Marshall's smile faded as he counted her injuries.
"Don't say persona," she mumbled around a piece of pancake. Marshall liked watching Mary eat. No ladylike tiny bites for his Mary. She ate as she lived, with gusto. Marshall realized he'd better tuck into his own breakfast before Mary got to it.
They ate in silence. Marshall polished off his pancakes, and started on the bacon and eggs. Mary squinted, counting the remaining containers on the table. Once assured he wasn't eating her portion, she returned to demolishing her pancakes, and eggs, and bacon.
Tossing the last empty container into the trash, she sat up, sighed and took a long drink of coffee. "Sugar and caffeine," she sighed. "That's what the world really runs on."
"Technically pancakes are fat, cholesterol and carbohydrates. Syrup is sugar," Marshall corrected.
Mary narrowed her eyes and smirked. "You O.D. on nutrition labels again, Doofus? I told you that's not healthy."
Muttering something that sounded like 'obsessive compulsive' Mary downed the remainder of her coffee, and headed for the bathroom. Marshall was a surprised to hear Mary use the words appropriately. Although he knew he had an insight to her character because of the dreams they shared, there were gaps in his knowledge. Maybe the coarse bitch act was just that, an act. Law enforcement wasn't noted for etiquette. She'd spent a large part of her career being one of the guys. As if her blonde hair and shapely figure could be overlooked by any heterosexual male.
On the way to the Marshal's Annex, Marshall listed the various leads they had developed yesterday. He was certain that Chief Varney or the Newark detective would have enough to plan a course of action for today. Rosco's disappearance must mean something. Missing Roscoe. Missing attacker. Connection?
While waiting for their breakfast take out, Marshall had made a few calls. He needed intel on Lamarko Rosco and the Fuentes gang. He'd asked Eleanor to dig into the Jersey marshals and Newark PD, just in case there was something hinky. He didn't want to believe other law enforcement agencies were crooked. He was just being thorough.
Mary drove to the Marshal Annex, the tires squealing on damp cement of the underground garage. The sound reminded Marshall of their arrival the previous day. This day would be different. This time he swore to not let her out of his sight. This wasn't the time or place for Mary to start being generous and thoughtful. The thought flickered through his brain that she was capable of scheming a way of making sure he always paid for coffee. Nope, not even Mary would go to the extreme of arranging her own kidnapping. Shaking his head, he felt guilty for entertaining that silly notion. Focus Mann.
Chief Varney and the Newark gang squad detective were standing around the conference room table when they arrived. Rap sheets, maps and photos were scattered over the surface. The detective was sliding the mug shot of a pockmarked man around, like a puzzle piece. Trying to see where he fit.
Marshall greeted them, "Chief, Detective." Mary looked at them expectantly. "Well?" she paused, took a calming breath, "Anything?"
The detective looked away then looked at her. "Maybe."
"Is that clever cop speak for we got a lead but we don't want to share?" she accused.
"No Mary," Chief Varney interrupted. "It means we have a tip, but the source is unreliable. Sometimes he's got the goods. Other times it's totally bogus."
"What exactly do you have?" asked Marshall.
Detective Ruiz related. "One of my CIs heard from another CI about a kidnapped woman. He claimed to have seen her. He couldn't understand why she was taken. He said she's too old for their customers."
Mary winced at the thought of her mother having 'customers.' She caught Marshall looking as if he'd swallowed a lemon. Exactly how she felt.
Taking a deep breath, Mary asked "Did he have any idea where they took her?"
"No, but in the past his known associates have been seen at the container yard at the port. We're not sure what their connection is. It's not clear whether they are taking stuff out of the containers or putting it in."
She asked. "Have these 'associates' been seen down there this past week?"
"No. There haven't been reports on the gang in that area. We haven't been looking there." Ruiz admitted.
Mary bristled at the thought that all available resources weren't being used to find her mother.
"We realize you have other cases," Marshall reasoned. Mary glared at him for excusing Newark's slacking on her mother's case. She heard a voice in her head that sounded a lot like her partner's. Calm down Mary. Treat this as a case. Don't get so riled up you aren't thinking straight. Mary reviewed what she knew of the gangs before she left for Albuquerque.
"Mary, we have been looking for her. We just didn't know where to look, and until last night, this morning really, we had no reason to look at the port." Chief Varney insisted.
"Chief!" someone called from the bullpen.
"Excuse me," Varney said. The detective looked at the two Albuquerque marshals standing close together. They seemed to be drawing strength from one another. "Be right back."
"They're putting Jinx's kidnapping on the back burner," Mary accused. "They're not . . .They aren't. . .."
"They are working it Mare. They are. Do you feel guilty for not finding her?" Marshall wondered.
Mary hung her head, allowing her hair to hide her expression. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She did feel guilty. Even worse, she knew she needed their help. She needed to play nice. Be professional, not the distraught daughter of the victim.
Having Marshall beside her calmed her. He was a comfort. She'd never worked with a partner she could count on. Was that making her lose her edge? Was he blunting her ability to think, to hunt?
Seeing the internal war Mary was waging, Marshall said "Mare, you haven't slept more than 4 hours a night for days." She gave him a calculating look. "You sneaky" she paused looking for a suitable term, stifling her usual derogatory slang, "sneak," she accused."You didn't sleep either."
Marshall grimaced. He wanted her to trust him. Quietly, so the detective wouldn't hear, he told her, "I slept. I just woke up whenever you pulled away." He gave her a sly smile. "If you want me to sleep through the night, really sleep, leave my arm around you."
Mary looked away.
"It's normal to feel off your game in this situation." He was careful not to say that she actually was off her game.
"But she's counting on me. I have to figure this out," Mary pleaded.
"She may be counting on you, but I am counting on us. You, me the Marshals and the Newark PD. Got that?"
She nodded.
"You're not alone, Sunshine. Not anymore."
The Chief and the detective returned to the conference room. The Chief had a printout in his hand.
"This is a list of containers owned by a holding company that is connected to Fuentes. These," he pointed to some numbers highlighted in yellow, "are supposed to be empty."
"That's a lot of containers, Chief."
"It's a place to start," Marshall interjected optimistically.
"Is there any connection between the gang and Christopher Lawrence Jeburk, Daniel Evans or Lamarko Rosco?
"That's where it gets tricky," Detective Ruiz interjected. "We know Jeburk worked with the mob. Evans was seen with mobsters from time to time, but we could never prove he worked for them. Rosco's connection is family. His sister married a Gaspare. Her father is an old school don with connections beyond New Jersey. "
"You think the Fuentes gang is working for the mob? Aren't they rivals?" Mary asked.
"In some areas, yes." Ruiz replied "They have clearly marked territories, both geographic and 'product'. The gangs do drugs, the mob does racketeering. Not quite that simple, but you get the idea. Shootouts are bad for business. And there's a detente. They work together when there's something they can both profit from. If it's retrieving the money from Rosco's last heist, or running a new one, they might work together, split the money – or make the other think they will split it."
"Sooo," she drew out the syllable, thinking. "Rosco wants my father, either for the old job, or a new one. He kidnaps Jinx to lure James out in the open. Then Rosco is as dumb as a box of hair." She paused shaking her head. "My father left so he didn't have to put up with Jinx. He'd never sacrifice anything for her."
"What about for you?" Chief Varney asked. Mary looked at him eyebrow raised. "Would your father come out of hiding for you?"
"You mean they took Jinx to lure Mary to Jersey so that they could kidnap her too?" Marshall theorized. "That would explain all the attacks on Mary."
"Leverage." Ruiz replied.
Mary had her head down, her hands resting on the table supporting her weight. She kept running James reactions to her kidnapping. Round and round they went, like a merry go round. He would come out of hiding to ransom her. He wouldn't give a shit and go even deeper underground. Will he. Won't he.
She brought her face up, finding Marshall's eyes focused on her. "I don't know if that would work with him or not. Nothing that's happened to me in 20 years has brought him back. I doubt my kidnapping would."
Mary hadn't forgotten her family drama, but she was applying her skill, her experience and her instincts to the case. That's my girl. "What does the container yard have to do with it?"
"If the gang and Rosco's men are working together, it would make sense to hide Jinx Shannon there."
"If." Mary emphasized. "Do we have any other options? What about that third guy in the alley? Any idea who he is?"
"He might be the link we're looking for. One of the mobsters has a teenage son who likes to trade on his father's position and hang out with the gang. He's been seen with Paddy. Could be our third guy in the alley."
"It would explain the smaller lighter footprints we found," Marshall added.
Mary shrugged. They didn't have anything else, and even though they were missing some pieces, it seemed to fit.
"If we're going to deal with these containers we need more information. Number of containers in the yard. Size. Are some units special, like refrigerator units? Which ones are located where it would be difficult to observe?
"All good questions, Marshall," I don't have any answers, the Chief replied.
Detective Ruiz looked uncomfortable as he grudgingly volunteered, "I have someone that could answer some of those questions. He's not much of a people person, but you," he nodded at Mary. "I know he'd talk to you."
"You mean flash some skin and he'll babble his brains out." She might not use them, but Mary had a realistic idea of her assets where men were concerned.
"I don't mean to offend, Inspector. He's easily distracted. And you would certainly distract him." For someone who looked like a street thug, the detective had manners.
Marshall was uncomfortable with the allusion to Mary's shapely attractiveness. He realized that the detective was being helpful, not discounting Mary's skills. He needed to do whatever it took to find Jinx. If that meant Mary baring a bit of skin, so be it.
"I get it." Mary said. "And where would we find this person?"
"You wouldn't. I'll set up a meet," Ruiz said.
"I'll need a laptop and maps of the container storage area." Marshall requested.
"Nyah. You won't need that," Ruiz assured. "I'll bring you what he can use."
Before they left the room Ruiz added "And bring plenty of pastry and coffee."
After a few phone calls, the meeting was arranged.
Ruiz drove. Marshall went into Amy's and got the required pastry and coffees. He rode shotgun and Mary sat in the back. She chafed at being treated like a witness, but after Marshall's outburst last night she knew it was the right thing to do.
Marshall couldn't help but notice as Mary started undressing in the back seat. She removed her jacket, then her thermal shirt, and unbuttoned two more buttons on her remaining thin knit shirt. She wasn't self conscious about the visibility of her bra. He sighed when she put her jacket back on. The car heater was on but it was still cold. Marshall reminded himself that it was perfectly normal for nipples to peak when cold. He wasn't cold at all. Not now.
They took the stairs up to a dingy apartment with a sturdy door. Ruiz knocked a shave and a hair cut, which amused Mary. The the door was opened by a young pasty faced thin man who asked to be called Westly. Marshall quietly acknowledged the source of that name. "The Princess Bride?" 'Westly shyly nodded in the affirmative. Mary hoped the guy would grow into his nose someday.
Mary took off her jacket and they sat around the kitchen table, Mary directly across from Westly. Marshall looked to Ruiz, before handing over the maps and lists of containers they had compiled. Marshall had given Mary a list of questions to ask. She had added a few more. The CI seemed to know everything there was to know about containers and their movements at the port. It was chilly in the room, and the young man wasn't the only one distracted by Mary's assets.
"What we need," said Mary "is a list of containers that can hold several people and haven't moved. That have been in the same place for a month or more." Mary encouraged the young man by standing up and leaning across the table, pointing out the highlighted containers. The young man's eyes widened and he swallowed nervously. Mary sat down and asked question after question. Marshall and even Ruiz asked a few too.
When Marshall determined he had enough information to whittle the huge number of containers down to possibles, they got ready to go. As Mary put on her jacket in the hallway she twitted Marshall "Are you sure you got all that? You seemed pretty distracted."
Ruiz chuckled.
"You always distract me. Fortunately, I can multitask. The sooner we get back to the Annex the sooner I can plug in these variables and come up with a reasonable number of containers to check."