Just a Summer Job
May 23, 2001
"Are you sure you want to do this?" José Senior questioned Ana.
"I start my internship at Seattle Independent Publishers July first. Kate's vacationing with her family in Barbados for a fortnight. José said you needed a temporary aide for the summer because your assistant has been confined to bed rest. You can interview, but a new, permanent assistant cannot be hired until July first. I qualify for your emergency hire statutes. I can type, answer phones, copy projects…and you know I never talk about anyone or anything. I can give you all of June, daytime M-F. July and August I can give you 10 hours every Saturday and Sunday."
"I prevaricated when I sent your paperwork through. The all-knowing believe you may apply at Quantico for the upcoming session. The position is titled office worker trainee, and it pays minimum wage. Park in general parking, which is free. We are on a bus route if you take the bus. You work from eight to five. You have no lunch hour, but you have a half-hour break at ten and another at two-thirty. Bring your lunch, as you'll cover phones from ten-thirty to two-thirty. Necessary breaks as needed. No eating at your desk. Use of the gym either before or after work is free. You need a combo lock for your gym clothes locker, unless you bring your gym bag with you daily. Your bottom right drawer on your desk locks so you can put your purse and side arm in it. Update your conceal carry permit. You won't carry in the office, but you will be shown where to find an emergency taser and zip ties. You might have to help at the front desk occasionally. Keep your work badge with you at all times. The badge lets you into the building, file room, IT, gym, locker rooms, etc. No jeans, t-shirts, etc. Business casual, like what you're wearing, is acceptable. You'll be on your feet a lot…so tell Kate to keep her high heels to herself."
"Kate left me three wardrobe charts listing casual jeans and shirts, business casual pants and shirts, and business dressy which is dresses, dresses with jackets, pencil skirts with twin sets…and every list has high heels." Ana laughed. "What do you expect? Even her swimming pool shoes are wedges, not flip flops like the rest of the world." Ana wore a Kate-approved outfit to interview with José Senior. Kate selected a navy pantsuit with an aqua silk shirt, navy penny loafers and navy trouser socks. Her angel braid had been finished with a fabric-covered aqua hair elastic. Ana wore simple gold earrings and the dress watch which Carla gave her for graduation from WSUV.
"I know you said you can start on the Tuesday after Memorial Day, but I prefer you start Thursday, the twenty-sixth. Thursday for training. Several of our clerical staff want to start the weekend early. We could use you to answer phones Friday the twenty-seventh."
"I will be here on Thursday, then," Ana agreed.
"What are your weekend plans?"
"Montesano, fishing and hanging out with Dad," Ana responded quickly. "I'm cooking but Dad's grilling. You know the guest room is always open for you and José."
"We'll meet you for fishing at Lake Sylvia on Saturday morning. We can stay the weekend. I have to convince Ray I will take good care of you this summer." José Senior promised. "After a walk through, we'll stop at HR for you to complete forms and get your ID. Thursday morning, present yourself in the lobby by 7:40. Security in the lobby will send you to me. Early…" Jose Senior started to say…
"…is on time," Ana grinned at him.
Friday, June 3
"Ana, do you have a go bag of emergency clothes in Wanda?" José Senior inquired. Ana nodded. "Can you participate in a line up for SPD? One of our Management Assistants in Finance, Jera, always volunteers when SPD needs petite brunettes with long hair. If you are willing, you can ride with her."
"I've never done this before. I will consider it a learning experience." Ana admitted.
"Just go up to Finance, fourth floor, ask for Jera. She'll walk you through what you need to do." José Senior thanked her.
~X~
"The clothes in your emergency go bag will work," Jera looked over Ana's things. "We are allowed to change in their women's locker room. We wear our professional clothes when we enter SPD. Keep your work badge in a purse or pocket. No side arms. Participating in a lineup is really easy. We change clothes and notify the detective at the identification desk we're ready. He will put us in a room with others. When it is time for the lineup, you will be given a placard with a number. We lineup in numerical order, and enter the room. Think of it as walking on a stage. Just follow directions. If some calls your number, step forward and be prepared to follow directions. We don't ask, don't tell, and don't get involved. We're just doing our job."
Friday, June 10
"Maybe it's a false alarm, but Dr. Warner at Northwest notified us. A citizen notified us. A minister notified us." Josh Driver, WBI Section Chief, informed José Rodriguez, Senior and Ana Steele. "Very few people know a 911 call begins taping immediately after the first ring. 911 has a capture and trace feature. We employ it on our hotline."
"Who are they warning us against?" Ana asked.
"They feel the estranged husband of Patrice Whitaker, a lowlife named Wesley Whitaker, plans to kill her." Josh passed a sectioned, red folder to José and one to Ana. "When we receive three possible death suspicions in 24 hours…someone sits up and takes note. Wesley Whitaker lives with his mother, Delta Jackson. He hasn't worked since he was fired from Grey Construction almost six months ago. Patrice works from home. She's transcribes medical records for doctors at Northwest Hospital. She also digitizes operating room videos, burning DVDs of unusual medical procedures for an educational supply company. Patrice works from when the kids go to bed to when they get up. She sleeps about five hours during the day when her kids are at school."
"How many kids?"
"Three…ages ten, eight and six…Wendy, Wade and Willow. Wesley Whitaker failed to obtain custody of them, alimony and possession of the house. He should be paying child support, but is in arrears for the past nine months. The house, situated on a100-acre plot, belongs to Patrice's maternal grandparents. The acreage is located between Seattle and Redmond. Patrice and Wesley moved there when she became pregnant with Wendy. They paid $500 rent a month to her grandparents – deposited to an account which pays taxes, insurance and upkeep on the farm. When Whitaker was served with divorce papers, he had two hours to pack and leave the family residence. His no-contact order prevents him from returning to the farm. He lives in Seattle with his mother, Delta Jackson."
"So what precipitated three people telling us he planned to kill her?" José Senior frowned.
"Patrice donated a lobe of her liver to the classmate of her eight-year-old son, Wade. The school PTA had signups at the school Christmas Festival. They arranged testing dates with the signups to find a live liver donor. Patrice put off the surgery as long as possible, but the recipient bordered on liver failure. Surgery could not be postponed. Patrice is AB+ which occurs in three percent of people. AB positive blood is the universal plasma donor. Patrice donates plasma every other month. These people believe while Patrice is weakened and recovering, Wesley Whitaker will kill her, or make the attempt to kill her."
"Why do they think that?" Ana studied the file.
"The weekend after Whitaker lost the custody battle, the brakes on her car failed. Patrice dropped the children off for visitation weekend a month ago at the estranged mother-in-law's home. Normally her sister and brother-in-law do that. They had a stomach flu and didn't want to give it to the children. Patrice put the car in neutral, coasted down a hill and into a convenience store parking lot. She called friends who took her home and arranged for her car to go to the repair shop. Within an hour of dropping the children off, the soon-to-be ex called six times. He claimed to be upset because she wasn't answering the landline. He explained his family was invited to a cookout and pool party Sunday. He needed swim gear for the children. She assured the children she would take care of the situation. She packed two sets of swim gear and extra clothes in a suitcase and delivered it to the soon-to-be ex-mother-in-law's home."
"How did she get there?"
"She didn't. The family minister dropped the suitcase off. Wesley Whitaker swore and yelled because Patrice did not bring the items. He accused Patrice of shopping and having her nails done with the money he paid in child support. The minister did not engage, however, he captured the exchange on his cell phone and sent it to Patrice's attorney."
"And?" Ana continued her flip through the folder.
"Patrice followed the guidelines of her separation papers and stayed away from the STBX and children while he had visitation. He delivered the children to her sister's home. He was furious she was there. He demanded to know where her car was. Patrice claimed her car had been scheduled for maintenance before needed for summer activities for the kids. She said it was at the shop and the sister would take them home. She refused to engage in a domestic quarrel with the STBX in front of the children."
"So he doesn't know the brakes failed?"
"Whether he knows or not…she wasn't killed. She took the threat seriously. The ten-year-old daughter, Wendy, called the hospital twice a day to ask about her mom's medical status. Yesterday, despite the No Visitors sign on the door to Patrice Whitaker's hospital room, Wesley Whitaker brought the children to see their mother on Wednesday evening during his regular visitation. Basically, he threw Willow at her mother, while Patrice reclined in bed. She deflected Willow away from her incision but the effort ripped out her IV. She rang for the nurse, who reinserted the IV. The nurse called security who removed Whitaker from the hospital room. The nurse allowed the children to stay for a ten-minute visit. The nurse informed the children Patrice would be released Saturday. She explained the children could return to the house Sunday evening, but their mother was on light duty for eight weeks until she healed."
"Sounds like Patrice Whitaker has personal integrity and ethical standards." José Senior commented.
"If that is your way of saying the husband is a dickbag…several of your badge brothers agree." Josh affirmed.
~X~
"I believe my ex-husband is plotting to kill me." Patrice Brand informed Rodriguez and Steele. "He's angry because he lost a court case less than six weeks ago…"
"What court case?" Rodriguez watched Steele take notes.
"Wesley took me to family court. He hasn't been working and is nine months in arrears on his child support. He petitioned the court for full custody of our three children, ownership of my grandparents' acreage where I live, and child and marital support. He wanted $3K a month. The judge denied his petition. In addition, the judge assigned a court supervisor for our case. He is to review our insurances, wills, life directives, etc. Thanks to Wesley…my brother has full custody of our children if anything happens to me. I'm an organ donor, and have a DNR if I am so critically injured I will be a vegetable or physically incapacitated for the remainder of my life. My grandparents' acreage belongs to them…not me, my siblings, or my children. If anything happens to my maternal grandparents…the acreage belongs to my mother and her sister who live in Portland."
"Do you have proof he is attempting to kill you?"
"Wesley was allowed to see my children while they visited my mother and grandparents over Spring Break. My grandmother has bone cancer. She is not expected to see the New Year. Two of my grandmother's fentanyl patches were missing after the visit. I'm very careful not to eat or drink anything offered by that man…not even an unopened bottle of water."
"So why now?" Rodriguez inquired.
"I am a direct liver donor for a girl in my son Wade's class. I will be medically compromised for eight weeks. Physically I can't lift more than a basket of clothes. I can't run or exercise until I'm healed. Wednesday, Wesley brought the children to visit me…which is unheard of when he's scheduled to have them for a few hours. He picked up Willow, our six-year-old daughter, and threw her to me to catch. Of course, I couldn't catch her. I deflected her so she wouldn't injure my incision. Our ten-year-old, Wendy, caught Willow before she fell to the floor. That action ripped out my IV."
"What did Whitaker do when you couldn't catch your daughter?" Rodriguez asked.
"Wesley commented he didn't know I would be such a wimp that I couldn't properly care for our children. When it is his visitation night or weekend, he picks up the kids from my sister, Penny, and they stay at their Grandmother Delta's house. He is supposed to drop them at Penny's house by nine on Wednesday and by five on Sunday. Penny and her husband Billy bring the children to the farm. We call it a farm, but it's more than that. Seventy-five acres is orchard with fruit and nut trees. There are a dozen beehives there. My grandparents have people who maintain the orchard and beehives and harvest. Fifteen acres contains the horse barns where my sister and her husband stable their two horses with paddocks, pasture, grainery, tack storage, etc. They share the spaces with my brother Patrick and his wife Susan who maintain the area as a barter for their stable fees. They let Penny and Billy use their horses to give the children riding lessons. Ten acres holds the house, garages, kitchen and herb garden, a few fruit trees, berry canes and a grassy area where the children play. I'm responsible for caring for the ten acres."
"I've known this surgery would be scheduled after school let out. I filled the big chest freezer with four months of meals. The kids have extra summer clothes and a busy summer schedule. Billy coaches Wade's soccer team, and Penny coaches Willow's soccer team. Our neighbors, Rich and Maddie, coach Wendy's soccer team. They will pick up the kids for practice and games. I hired two au pairs for the summer to transport and supervise the children at extra-curricular activities. In June the children attend Seattle Swim Academy classes. In July they attend performance art programs through the Redmond Community Center. In August they attend STEM programs through the Microsoft Campus in Redmond."
"Why aren't Patrick and Susan offering care for your children?" Rodriguez took notes.
"They are spending the summer with my grandparents. Neither Penny nor I could, and they both have twelve weeks of family medical leave."
"You realize a high percentage of women are murdered by current or former romantic partners?" Rodriguez asked.
Patrice nodded. " Don't underestimate Wesley. He knows the kids summer schedule while I am recovering. He doesn't know I hired a housekeeper to help with household chores, cooking, laundry, etc. I hired two au pairs for the summer. However none of them start work until Monday. Wesley will find a way to kill me. The court told him no custody, no alimony, and no house. He doesn't like anyone telling him no."
"You realize a very low percentage of women are murdered by complete strangers?" Steele queried. "You realize a majority of the women who are murdered are killed by firearms?"
Patrice nodded. "The judge ruled we are not allowed to have firearms because of the children. I take Krav Maga classes. If I must protect myself against Wesley…I'll go for the genitals first, throat second, eyes third, followed by his knees, kidneys and solar plexus."
Rodriguez observed Steele's nod of understanding.
"Petite women have to know how to defend themselves. I won't give up my carry conceal permit nor my Glock 17." Steele responded. "However, Whitaker could buy a gun or a knife from a gun show without the court knowing. He couldn't buy one from a pawn shop because they run the serial numbers through a police database."
"Well, I feel I am a compassionate person, but I'm not a mouse. I've become quite vocal and outspoken, standing up for myself once I filed for divorce before Halloween last year. The divorce should have been finalized by now, but we've been in court every month arguing over the kids, finances, custody, etc. Wesley is furious because I don't follow his suggestions, or orders. He doesn't care if I die…it's the end of a problem for him. He doesn't care about how my death would impact our children, my family or my friends."
"Has Whitaker ever been abusive?" Ana slipped that question into the conversation.
"Wesley was never physically abusive. However, he is emotionally abusive. He tried to run off my family and friends. They were smarter than me and refused to bow out of my life. Then his emotional abuse escalated to the point I almost had a nervous breakdown. Thanks to a family intervention over Labor Day last year, I realized my husband is a narcissist. I don't believe he wants the children because he loves them. Once he lost his job last December, he believes he should have custody of the kids, and I should pay him spousal support while he 'stays home' with the children. After this last court appearance, I have permanent, full custody of our children. I don't pay spousal support and he's supposed to pay child support. He can receive phone calls on Sundays, four hours of visitation on Wednesdays and once a month visitation from five p.m. Friday to five p.m. on Sunday. Wesley picks the children up and drops them off at my sister Penny's house."
"Did he cheat on you?" Rodriguez asked.
"I would say 'don't know, don't care' but Wesley thought he would injure me because he slept around. He thinks I don't date because no man wants a woman with three children. The truth is, I have a male friend with benefits who has custody of his two sons. Thanks to his manipulative ex-wife and my narcissistic soon-to-be-ex-husband, we're careful about our relationship."
"You realize we will need your male friend's name and contact information?" Rodriguez announced.
"We expected as much," Patrice related Dawson's information. "We would appreciate you calling in advance, so his ex-wife and his children are not present when you speak to him. Dawson isn't trying to hide anything pertinent, but it's easier for us if they do not know. Ditto for me."
Saturday, June 11
"Why are you taking my wife's blood, again?" Whitaker demanded from Ana.
"Sorry, HIPPA laws prevent me from discussing patient history, status or care," Ana commented. She wore burgundy scrubs assigned to the Diagnostics Unit. She carried one of their mobile blood draw caddies. Ignoring Whitaker, she checked the IV bandage on Patrice's arm.
"A liver process nutrients, medication and hormones. The liver helps the body absorb fats, cholesterol and fat-soluble vitamins. The liver makes blood clotting proteins. The liver removes bacteria and toxins, while preventing infection and regulating immune responses." Patrice informed Wesley.
"If a liver is that important, you should have sold your lobe instead of donating it." Whitaker blustered.
"The Connors and my insurance cover all medical charges. The little girl who received my donation is a classmate of Wade's. I won't argue the worth of a life of a child." Patrice sighed at the continuous argument. "The liver regenerates. Only five percent of liver transplants are from living donors. There is almost double the amount of people on liver transplant waiting list than there are liver transplants performed in the U.S."
"I won't take blood this time, but I do need a urine sample." Ana set a cup, with the patient barcode and Patrice's name on the bedside table. "Can you give us a few minutes of privacy?" She addressed Whitaker, who stomped out of the room.
"Where are your children while he is here?" Ana whispered to Patrice.
"Supposedly they are at a baby shower with his mother. He offered me a ride home, but I refused. Told him I had transport. He has the kids tonight, and delivers them to my sister by five tomorrow."
"He's not supposed to be here," Ana reminded Patrice.
"Security isn't stopping him," Patrice whispered.
"When we have confirmation he left the hospital, the doctor will release you. Rodriguez and I will take you home." Ana promised.
Late Saturday afternoon
"José Senior was fast," Ana murmured to Patrice. She guided Patrice to the silver SUV. She opened the door, hustled Patrice in the back seat and closed the door. Ana jumped in the front seat and turned to the driver.
"You're not José Senior," a shocked Ana answered her cell phone.
"Stay inside until I pull up. There's been a minor fender bender in the parking lot. I'll be delayed for about ten minutes." José Senior ordered her.
"Too late. I thought the silver SUV outside the hospital exit was you, so I moved Patrice. We're in a stranger's SUV."
"Use your FBI credentials and commandeer the vehicle," José Senior ordered. "Have the driver drop you at the office or take you to Patrice's place."
"Crap." Ana ended the call and reached in her pocket for her FBI credentials. "I'm commandeering this vehicle."
"The hell you are," Jason Taylor argued. "I'm here to pick up my boss, who visited his sick grandfather."
"Don't make me employ my feminine wiles," Ana batted her eyes at the man, fluttering her long eyelashes.
Taylor snorted. "I am an almost happily married man…you are a little girl…and I emphasize the little part."
"I wasn't talking about giving you a blow job for a ride," Ana retorted. "Meet my feminine wiles." She raised her hand from her tote…holding a Glock.
Taylor dropped his eyes from her face to her gun. "Alrighty then…you have any other feminine wiles packed away in that tote?"
"A taser, a switchblade and a bottle of flammable perfume. Zip ties and a long strap on my tote for restraining recalcitrant people. You may be military trained, but I got the drop on you." Ana quirked an eyebrow. "We need to move. Warn whoever you have to…but don't mention us."
"You have suggestions for an excuse? My boss won't like being stood up."
"Family emergency...sick kid."
"Let's use a plausible excuse. If my daughter, Sophie, were sick, my ex-wife Tammy has custody." Taylor argued again.
"Mr. Taylor?" Patrice spoke from the back seat. "Sophie's dad? I didn't recognize you at first."
Taylor turned in his seat and regarded the woman in the back seat. "Mrs. Whitaker? Wade's mom?"
"Patrice, please. I wouldn't ask…but we really need to go." Patrice's voice broadcast a hysterical note.
"Call me Jason, please," he told Patrice. "You," he glared at Ana. "You can call me Taylor." He put the SUV in gear and drove away from the hospital exit. "What are you doing in the hospital, Patrice?"
"She donated a lobe of her liver," Ana interjected.
"You were the live donor for Caeleigh Connor?" Taylor asked.
"I was. I signed up for testing during the Christmas Festival. I matched, and Caeleigh's doctor waited until school ended before performing the transplant. We both needed the summer to heal. If I thought the tests to be a liver donor were tedious, they are nothing compared to the boredom of healing," Patrice sighed.
"Onstar, call Andrea." Taylor concentrated on the road. When Onstar connected, Taylor spoke again. "Andrea, will you ask Sawyer to pick up the boss at Northwest Hospital? I just pulled into Northwest when Sophie's nanny called with an emergency. I left before I remembered why I was there. The boss is visiting his sick grandfather." He listened to Andrea reassuring him Sawyer would cover. She wished him well and disconnected.
Taylor drew a deep breath. "Patrice, is there a reason you have an FBI escort?"
"We were warned Wesley Whitaker might make an attempt on Patrice's life. She's weakened from the surgery, and the recovery time is eight weeks." Ana explained. "She'll be back on her feet within a week, and completely healed before Halloween."
"Wesley Whitaker? Why is his name familiar?" Taylor frowned.
"He worked for Grey Construction." Patrice explained.
"OH yeah…the idiot who nailed his hand to a wall just before Christmas." Taylor pulled a face.
"Is that what happened?" Patrice inquired. "I heard he was injured on the job. Grey Construction refused to pay Workman's Comp or unemployment. Wesley has been pissed for months."
"Elliot Grey, the owner of Grey Construction, videotaped the work occurring inside the house for the owner. He happened to get lucky and filmed Wesley putting his hand against the wall and pointing his nail gun at it. The nail missed everything essential in his hand. Once the nail had been removed and paramedics took him away, Elliot sent the video to his lawyer, who is his father, Carrick Grey. They appeared at the hospital and terminated Whitaker. When he argued with Workman's Comp…Elliot showed him a copy of the tape."
"Can I get a copy of the tape? I need it for if I go back to court. Wesley is determined to gain custody of our children. Wendy is ten; Wade is eight; Willow is six."
"I'll make sure you get a tape with appropriate verification paperwork. Why are you involved?" Taylor asked Ana.
"If you want to piss me off…make sure your actions impact a child." Ana did not put the Glock away.
Taylor considered her words for a minute. "Military daughter, right? Protect the women and children first?"
"Dad was an Army MP. I'm just helping one of his friends who now works for the Washington Bureau of the FBI. I start an internship the first of July, but will work weekends for the WBI until Labor Day." Ana admitted. "I know you're ex-military. Marine?"
"Semper Fi," Taylor said wryly.
"I won't ask which one of Seattle's wealthy you guard." Ana commented. "Obviously 'the boss' is connected to the Grey Family."
"I couldn't tell you if I wanted to…and I don't." Taylor kept his eyes on the road. "Do you need anything Patrice? Ginger ale, ice, medicine…do we need to stop?"
"I have everything. I have my meds, and the FBI gathered necessities for me."
"Including prepping the apartment above your garage which you planned to use for your housekeeper or au pairs. Black out drapes, sound proofing, CCTV." Ana informed Patrice. "We're hiding her in the garage apartment and keeping watch for Whitaker."
"Stairs are a bitch," Patrice commented.
"I can carry you wherever you need to go," Taylor offered.
~X~
"We're going to your acreage. We'll park in the garage. If anyone is watching, they will believe you entered the house through the garage door. Taylor will carry you up to the apartment via the inside garage stairs. We will leave. Taylor can leave me at the horse stables. I will hike back to the garage and stay with you. My colleagues put up a motion-activated hunter camera at the entrance to your drive. There is a camera at your front door, and one in your bedroom. Put your cell on the charger; forward your land line to this number." Ana handed a burner phone to Patrice.
"There is a dummy in your bed, in your clothes, and the light bulbs are either changed to 25 watts or unscrewed." Taylor explained. "The FBI are hiding on the property where Whitaker can't see them. You can see the action on the CCTV screens in the garage apartment."
"What about my children?" Patrice asked.
"We have FBI agents watching them and we have a trace on his phone. If Whitaker attempts something tonight, the children will be with his mother. He will probably pretend not to know what is going on. When your sister and brother-in-law bring the children home, they will find your body. When he thinks you are dead, he may attempt to retrieve them tomorrow at your sister's house. We intend to arrest him before that happens, and certainly not in front of the children."
Early morning, June 12
Whitaker left his cell phone at his mother's home – on silent mode and hidden in his underwear drawer. He used a burner phone, accessing his cell phone, to send emails to friends and family, or access Facebook from midnight to four. His children were sound asleep, thanks to the ruffie he placed in their last chocolate milk of the night. He carried them to bed and tucked them in. His mother went to her room before ten. Whitaker depended on his mom being sound asleep for the night. She should not wake until dawn. The children should not wake until breakfast.
Whitaker drove to Patrice's farm in a cheap almost trashed SUV which he stole from a dive bar in a seedy part of Seattle. He bypassed highway and personal cameras. Using a copy he made from Willow's key, he let himself into the house. Dressed in black, he slipped into the house.
l
~X~
"Heads up…We have movement." Rodriguez's voice crackled over the two-way radio.
"Bloody hell," Patrice swore to Ana and pointed at the CCTV. A black SUV glided quietly into the driveway of the farm. Patrice warned the FBI to turn off the motion lights. Dressed in black sweats, a black ski mask and with black leather gloves, Whitaker approached the house. He fished a key from his pocket and let himself into the house. Quietly, he slipped up the stairs to Patrice's room. A very dim light came from an almost closed ensuite door. Whitaker took a knife from utility belt and stabbed the dummy in the bed. "Bitch,' he snarled. "Cunt…whore…if you had behaved like you should…I would not have to take these steps to eliminate your worthless ass from my life!" He continued stabbing the body in the bed…which cast blood spatter in the room. After twenty chest stabs….he left the knife imbedded in her body while he felt for the pulse on her neck. Elated, he turned to leave…but spied her purse on the dresser. "Robbery gone wrong…bitch." He took her wallet, with her funds and debit card. He took her jewelry box.
Patrice wiped tears. "I love my children…but he is a bastard." She watched as Whitaker practically skipped from the house. He entered the stolen vehicle and left.
"We'll follow…" a voice sounded over the two-way radio.
Several minutes later, a vehicle cam caught Whitaker's vehicle approaching the I-5 on ramp. He threw something out the window.
"I-5 onramp – he threw something out the window." A voice notified Rodriguez.
"Probably the key to her house," Rodriguez replied. "Once he is out of sight, Team Four sit on the site until morning to facilitate the search. I want video activated throughout the search."
The undercover WBI vehicle followed Whitaker to a donation box for Salvation Army. Whitaker dumped the cash from Patrice's wallet, and contents of the jewelry box in a plastic grocery bag. He dropped the wallet and jewelry box in the donation box and continued on his way home to his mother's house. He abandoned the vehicle in an apartment complex three blocks from his mother's home.
"Team Three – retrieve the wallet and jewelry box," Rodriguez ordered.
"We'll stay the night and watch his mother's house," a voice told Rodriguez.
"We'll process your house. I need those CCTV tapes." Rodriguez apologized. Ana filmed him retrieving the tapes and dropping them in an evidence bag.
"I'm staying with Patrice," Ana announced. "I sent the video to your phone."
"See you Monday morning?" Rodriguez nodded at Ana. "Are you leaving?" He asked Taylor.
"No, I doubt Patrice will get any rest tonight, but I intend to stay. When you finish with the house tomorrow, I'll carry her back to her room…"
"We'll camp here. The house has to be finished before five tomorrow. I will ask you to carry me down the stairs. I'm sleeping in my office for the summer. I can't do the stairs to my room so I set up a temporary closet in my office with clothes." Patrice commented.
"We'll finish before the children come home tomorrow. Whitaker wore gloves the entire time, so we aren't required to dust for prints."
"He wore a ski mask the entire time," Patrice bit her lip. "Are you sure we are safe?"
"Whitaker pulled the mask on at the corner before turning toward your farm. He drove a stolen vehicle with muddied plates. We have it all on tape. Intent to commit murder is a Class A Felony in Washington. He can be sentenced to Life without Parole." Rodriguez commented. "We can prove intent. Whitaker had an illegal key and used it to break his restraining order."
"If Taylor can stay with Patrice, I can videotape while you clear the scene," Ana offered.
~X~
"Why was Steele assigned to you?" Taylor inquired. "She's barely legal."
"Steele is young enough to pass as a medical intern. She's old enough to carry conceal. She qualified at WBI's gun range, shooting 36 out of 40. Her dad is friends with Agent Rodriguez. They were in the army together. Rodriguez was an MP, and then became WBI." Patrice offered Jason a water from her filled refrigerator in the garage apartment. "Rodriguez wants Steele to go to Stafford County. He says she would be a natural there since she's interim something."
"Stafford County?"
"Steele laughed when he said that. They thought I had fallen asleep, but I just felt groggy. Steele said she always had the hots for Marine Corps Dress Blues. He raspberried her and said that was not a nice thing for an Army daughter to say, let alone think."
"Quantico?" Taylor frowned. "Quantico is located in Stafford County, VA."
"Could be. Ana explained she doesn't want to spend 20 more days in classes right now, let alone 20 more weeks. She said if she had known they would get excited over her qualification tests to perform a summer job…she would have eaten ramen noodles until she gets her first paycheck from her intern job. She starts at a publishing company the first of July."
"Interim…not intern?" Taylor queried.
"I remember now…interim secret. I meant to look it up, but I forget." Patrice apologized. "Ana Steele is smart; she graduated second in a class of 1000, from WSUV. She offered to help WBI and SPD when they need a petite brunette for a lineup. She doesn't want a job where she carries a gun. Carrying books and manuscripts will suit her fine."
"Interim Secret is a security clearance granted to persons who have minimal investigative training."
"I don't know anything about that…I just know she's intuitive, smart, physically fit and carries concealed. When I'm healed, Steele and the female FBI agents agreed to spar with me when I practice Krav Maga." Patrice took her medicine, drank her bottle of water, and tried to watch a Sci Fi movie on TV.
Taylor kept this information close to his heart.
~X~
Taylor watched the CCTV as a group of techs descended on Patrice's house. They examined and filmed the front door lock. They gathered trace evidence from the carpet…starting at the front door, ascending up the stairs, and entering Patrice's bedroom. The faux Patrice, created by the best technology WBI owned, stayed in the bed. The fake pill bottle stood on the nightstand with a water decanter. The knife was still embedded in the dummy's torso.
Taylor whistled to himself as the techs videotaped the blood cast off from the dummy. The dummy could have been a clone for Patrice's height, weight, skin color, physical dimensions and looked like her. The dummy simulated breathing. The dummy contained faux blood to created cast off. Taylor admired the WBI's work.
Team Two exchanged places with a replacement team. "Whitaker borrowed his brother's vehicle to drop the children at their aunt's house. He's sitting on the front porch steps, checking his watch and nursing a beer." The two-way radio crackled. "We have movement. The brother is here to collect his vehicle."
"Let him take it. We have the stolen, abandoned vehicle. Trace is processing it now." Rodriguez commented. "Patrice is back in her house, waiting for the children and her sister. We have an armed female agent in the house, posing as a temporary housekeeper. We will have two armed agents in the garage apartment to protect Ms. Whitaker and the children until Whitaker is arrested. Once the sister and children arrive, we'll give the children urine and blood tests to see if they were drugged. You'll be given notice to arrest Whitaker. We have two teams waiting to process his mother's house. We need his clothes from his middle-of-the-night activities. Find the cash and jewelry he stole last night."
~X~
"Your WBI SUVs look like ours." Taylor commented as half a dozen vehicles pulled away.
"Everyone thinks we ride around in black SUVs. Silver or grey are better colors. They virtually disappear when the weather is dismal." Ana laughed.
"Now that your situation is resolved – can I go back to work?" Taylor inquired.
"Yes, this is my card; I owe you a favor. Actually two…since Penny and Billy are staying the night, can you give me a ride back to my condo?"
"I will collect on it. I have someone I want you to meet." Taylor said goodbye to Patrice and her family and walked Ana to his SUV.
~X~
"You devious, manipulative, underhanded, scheming, conniving, deceitful bitch!" Whitaker screamed at Patrice when he appeared for his arraignment.
"You lying, murderous psychopath!" Patrice snapped at her soon-to-be-ex-husband. Rodriguez dragged her to the back of the courtroom, admonishing her not to engage.
"Your honor…my client pleads not guilty. The Washington Attorney General's Office used marital profiling to accuse my client of attempting to murder his wife. His children and mother can confirm he was with them all night." Whitaker's public defender defended his client and demanded the charges be dropped.
"We have the clothes he wore, and the chocolate milk container with evidence of Rohypnol," Rodriguez whispered to Patrice. "The Washington Attorney General's Office has the tape of him entering your home, attacking the dummy in your bed, and theft. They will prosecute."
The judge bound Whitaker over for trial, refused to set bail, and ordered Whitaker returned to the jail at King County Correctional Facility. His parental rights were revoked. If the children's paternal grandmother wanted to see them, she had to make an appointment with the court to arrange court supervised visitation. Ditto for anyone remotely related to or connected with Wesley's side of the family. No contact orders were issued.
~X~
Ana finished frosting the mocha chip cake with rich fudge frosting.
"Who the hell are you?" A female voice demanded.
Ana turned to view a fiftyish platinum blonde in an LBD and black stilettos. She wore black diamond earrings and tennis bracelet. Her red lips and red nails were perfect foils to her narrowed eyes which saw red when she viewed Ana.
"Mr. Taylor?" Ana called out…Taylor entered from the staff quarters a few seconds later.
"Your cake smells…" Taylor stopped talking when he spotted Elena Lincoln. "Mrs. Lincoln," Taylor's poker face accompanied an erect military stance. His voice sounded like he encountered a vile smell.
"I thought I would drop in to see Christian on my way to Grey Manor in Bellevue…" her words hung in midair. "Care to introduce us?" Her curious gaze never left Ana's form or face.
"No…I don't care…" The appearance of another man interrupted Ana's retort.
"Mrs. Jones, I will be working…" A tall, physically fit man, with copper curls and smoke-grey eyes stopped midstride through his living room. "I told you…I don't want introductions to any of your girls right now!" Grey snapped at Mrs. Lincoln.
"Not my girl…Taylor and Jones must be into threesomes." The blonde offered a faux smile at Copper Curls. She moved quickly to his side and planted a kiss on his cheek before she assumed a reigning position on a large white couch.
Ana's snort seemed to awaken a shocked Taylor. "Mr. Grey…an acquaintance of mine…Anastasia Steele. Ana, if you are done, Gail is waiting for you." He indicated the open door to the staff quarters.
"You aren't introducing us?" Elena Lincoln purred.
"I don't need an introduction," Ana assessed her. "Mrs. Lincoln, Mr. Grey, Mr. Taylor," she pointed at each in turn. Then she pointed at herself. "Miss Steele…who is departing now. I left the dirty dishes in the dishwasher for Gail." She carried her cake to the staff door.
"Wait! The cake is not for me?" Christian almost drooled at the sight of a one-foot tall, ten-inch diameter cake, enrobed in chocolate fudge.
"Sorry, no. I had to borrow your kitchen as the oven isn't working properly in the staff quarters. This is a thank-you for Taylor for coming to the aid of an acquaintance. He's a nice man…he might give you a tiny slice." Ana continued through the door to the staff quarters.
"I'll be right back, Boss," Taylor followed Ana, shutting the door behind him. "Thanks for the cake…but I think it's a parting gift. Mr. Grey will fire me now." Taylor shook his head.
"What happened?" Mrs. Jones took the cake from Ana.
"Lincoln. Unannounced." Taylor spat the words. "No one in security office. Reynolds took a potty break."
"Do you plan to introduce Ana?" Mrs. Jones asked.
"Not a problem," Ana picked up her purse and jacket. "I've had all the introductions I want today."
"You don't like her?" Mrs. Jones asked.
"If her refers to Mrs. Lincoln…I can't say I'm a fan…however, I don't know her." Ana's serene face bothered Taylor and Jones. "I'd opine Taylor isn't a fan from the tone of his voice."
"How did my voice sound?" Taylor startled at Ana's observation.
"Like you smelled something ugly…" Ana shrugged.
"None of us are…" Mrs. Jones' cryptic comment alerted Ana.
"I need to go. I'm going home to Montesano after I check on Patrice." Ana bid them goodbye, slinging her purse over her shoulder and retrieving her keys. Taylor accessed the staff elevator and sent Ana to the parking garage.
July 4
Ana smacked the radio off. KISW played Tell Me Lies by Fleetwood Mac. The lyrics stung right now. 'You can't disguise…'
"She's just a family friend." Mr. Grey attempted to explain Elena Lincoln to Miss Steele.
Ana cast a scathing look in his direction. She resumed building a layered summer salad in a large glass container. On a layer of salad greens she added a layer of diced red pepper. Then she added a layer of diced celery.
"You have no right to be jealous…" Mr. Grey commented.
"Jealousy assumes feelings are involved. I know I wasn't the one acting like a jealous bitch that day. Mrs. Lincoln became furious when she spotted me in your kitchen. I needed your ovens to bake a cake for Taylor. I apologized for using your kitchen instead of the staff kitchen. I should have baked at home for Taylor, but baking at your condo while meeting Mrs. Jones and updating Taylor on the Patrice Whitaker situation seemed serendipitous." Ana added a layer of matchstick carrots followed by a layer of diced scallions, followed by a layer of sliced radishes. "People treat you the way you allow them to treat you."
"What does that mean?" Mr. Grey's eyes narrowed as he stared at Ana.
"Mrs. Lincoln treats you like property. She marked her territory by planting a red lipstick kiss on your cheek."
"I told you…she's a family friend."
Ana moved to the wall of windows in the kitchen. Left hand on her hip, her right hand pointed out the window at José Senior. "That is a family friend. He's known me since I turned four. My father's best friend would never enter our home without invitation…unless the house were on fire or we were in mortal danger. Nor would he quiz a stranger in our home. Nor would he invade my personal space and plant a kiss on my cheek."
"I'd like to get to know you…" Mr. Grey crossed his arms over his chest.
"I don't think so." Ana continued to build her salad with a layer of thawed, drained green peas, followed by a layer of ranch dressing. She finished the salad with a hearty sprinkle of shredded cheddar cheese and bacon bits.
"Might I ask why?" Mr. Grey coldly inquired.
"I started a new job on July first. Weekends I have a part-time summer position until Labor Day. I have no time to date. I have no time to socialize." Ana covered the salad with plastic wrap and placed it in the refrigerator.
"I don't date…"
"I don't fuck. I don't do one night stands. I don't do casual sex." Ana interrupted Mr. Grey. She held up her hand to stop him from commenting.
The back door opened, allowing Ray Steele to enter his kitchen. "We're ready to start making ice cream."
"Three batches of ice cream mix," Ana handed him three containers from the refrigerator. "Each batch will make one gallon of ice cream. There's extra ice in the outsize freezer and extra rock salt on the outside counter with the ice cream maker."
"Would you like to stay?" Ray asked Christian Grey. "We have plenty of food."
"Thank you for the invitation, but Taylor and I need to leave. I promised my family a sunset cruise to watch the fireworks over Safeco Stadium. I'll help you take things outside. I need to collect Taylor."
"He's standing outside the back door…" Ana and Ray commented at the same time…and looked at one another and laughed. Ray left with ice cream fixings.
"What was that about?" Grey's scowl almost made Ana laugh again.
"Just a family thing…Dad and I have a sixth sense when there are strangers around. Especially strangers who could inflict danger."
"I thought you trusted Taylor." Grey snapped.
"I do when he is Jason…doer of good deeds and generally a white knight. The Taylor standing by the back door is in the serve and protect mode." Ana removed tomatoes, a red onion and a batch of red leaf lettuce from the refrigerator. She washed them in the sink and carried them to the table to begin preparing for hamburgers. "Did you need something else?" She noted Grey had not moved.
"May I call you between now and Labor Day?"
"Just to talk…fine. I know you won't call for a date…as you don't date."
"And you don't fuck…" Grey left the house, collecting Taylor as he left.
'You don't trust Elena Lincoln…that's fine. Just keep your wits about you…Christian Grey will short circuit your brain if you let him.' Ana slapped the radio back on…and groaned when Every Breath You Take by The Police serenaded her. 'My job to 'serve and protect' ends Labor Day weekend. The problem is…Christian Grey makes every rule I have for my life fly out the window. I don't want to daydream about when he might call…'