Chapter 6: Gone

Halfway through his second latte, King began to worry. Detective Eames should have arrived by then. He watched the yellow light of the morning sun creep millimeter by millimeter across the table, growing increasingly concerned.

His cellphone rang.

"King," he answered. Listened for a moment. "What kind of complication?" His unsmiling face became even more austere with each word he heard. "I'll be there as soon as I can. Send a plainclothes to the undercover's apartment." He flipped the phone closed and went up to the barrista. "Excuse me. If a blond woman comes in looking for me, could you let her use your phone to call me?"

"Okay," the girl replied uncertainly.

A few minutes later, King arrived at a crime scene. He parked his vehicle between two police cars and walked into the large house, holding up his badge as he passed. The interior of the house was sparsely furnished, and the walls were pocked with bullet holes. "How many bodies?"

"We've found five men and two women," said Captain Bainbridge, who was in charge of the scene. King had been working with her on the Dwight investigation. "One of them has been positively identified as drug kingpin William Chakur. The house belongs to him."

"When did this go down?"

"Shots were heard at about two thirty this morning."

"Any indication of who did this?"

"Not yet, but some of my guys are going to pick up Bob Dwight for questioning."

"Did you find anything unusual when you arrived?"

The police captain raised an eyebrow. "More unusual than the seven bodies? Not that I noticed." Her cellphone started ringing. She answered quickly and walked to a quieter corner of the busy crime scene to talk.

The FBI agent's own cellphone buzzed. "King." He listened for a second. "Did you find a note or any other indication of where she might have gone? Put surveillance on her apartment."

A minute later, Bainbridge returned. "Dwight seems to have disappeared, along with most of his inner circle. He's not at his casino, his home, or any of his usual hangouts."

"I'm not surprised. My contact failed to check in this morning. Something went wrong."

"One of the crime scene techs found something odd." She nodded to the tech, who was holding a plastic evidence bag with a bar of soap in it. He handed it to King, who inspected it carefully.

On the underside of the soap bar were letters that looked like they'd been carved out with a blunt fingernail. HK NYC AE.

"Is that what you meant by 'unusual'?" Bainbridge inquired.

"Yeah." He walked out without another word.

"You have to agree," Officer Bonitez said after listening to the recovered voicemail from Judge Yap to his former mistress, "it does sound a lot like a suicide note."

Goren nodded. "I've been reading up on his rulings. He was a man who liked compromises. He hated the thought of breaking off with either of the women in his life. When he realized that wasn't an option...I think he saw this as the only solution."

"So you're okay with closing this case?"

"Yeah I am," Goren said. He wasn't happy with it, but Szekely's alibi had been confirmed, Mrs. Yap had also been at work when her husband died, and there was no evidence at the scene to point to anything other than suicide.

"His wife's not going to be happy," Bonitez mused.

"Especially when she finds out why he did it. She's going to be angry. Do you want me to break the news to her?"

"No, I will. I think she's already labeled me the bad cop; if she sees you at her door she'll think it's good news."

Goren didn't protest. Bonitez was a young cop, and could use the experience. He went to find Ross to tell him they'd closed the case.

Captain Ross wasn't in his office. Goren tried his cellphone.

Ross answered on the fourth ring. "Goren, is this urgent?"

"Not really. I just...closed the Yap case. We're going to be filing it a suicide. There might be some political fallout. You should be familiar with the details in case the brass asks you questions about it."

"That doesn't matter right now. Hang on a moment." The line went silent for a few seconds, then Ross's voice returned. "Goren, I want you to leave work early. Call me back from your car. I'll give you directions where to meet me." He sounded unhappy, and Goren thought he heard another voice in the background.

"What's going on?"

"It's about Eames." He hung up. That was all Goren needed to hear to get him out the door.

Goren arrived at the address Ross had given him: an apartment on a quiet street. The door was unlocked. He entered to find Ross and a man he didn't know.

"Close the door, Detective."

"What's going on? What happened to Eames?"

"Detective Goren, FBI special agent Hadrian King. He was Eames' handler." Ross seemed to be drawing back, removing himself from any responsibility in what Goren was about to hear.

Goren's eyes fastened on King. "What happened?" he said quietly.

"Detective Eames was working with a casino owner in Atlantic City who's suspected of running a prostitution ring, drug dealing, blackmail, and various scams. Basically if it's profitable and illegal, Bob Dwight does it. He knew Eames from when she was working undercover in Vice. We figured he would be more likely to trust someone he already knew, and we were right."

"I was told she was trying to get a cop killer," Goren said.

King nodded. "The last undercover officer...we think someone leaked her identity, someone from the NYPD. That's why we were so careful this time."

Goren shuffled a step closer to the FBI agent. "Where is she? You put her with a cop killer...when he was already on his guard..."

"A rival drug gang was found executed this morning. Dwight was almost certainly behind it. Evidence suggests Eames was there."

"Where is she now?" Goren moved a little closer.

"Dwight and his associates have disappeared. We think they're in New York."

"And Eames?"

"We think she's either with them, or..."

Goren's pent up energy exploded outward. He slammed King against the wall, his large hand around the smaller man's neck. "You lost her? You put Eames there, and you...lost her?" His breath came in quick, sharp bursts between his words.

King stared back at him evenly, no trace of fear or any other emotion in his eyes. "Your captain told me you would react like this," he commented. "We found this at the murder scene." He took a photo from his pocket and held it up for Goren; it showed the message on the bar of soap.

He took the photo and let go of the FBI agent, stepping back. "HK. That would be you? New York City. Alex Eames."

"We know from pulling Dwight's phone records that he was in touch with a man in New York City, an ex-con named Nathan Wheaton. He was arrested earlier today on a minor possession charge, but we didn't find anything at his house connecting him to Dwight. We haven't questioned him yet."

"Because someone might get suspicious if an FBI agent questions someone on a possession charge?"

"Because I've met both with Detective Eames and the previous undercover. I don't think any of Dwight's associates saw me, but if I am recognized it could endanger the investigation."

"That's why I'm here," Goren realized.

"Captain Ross tells me you are a skilled interrogator. The sooner we can figure out how Wheaton is connected to Dwight, the sooner we can find your partner."