FBI Headquarters, Miami, Florida
July 18, 2003
Monica's head snapped up the instant Bilkins and Harper entered the meeting room. The FBI office had risen to full life a couple hours ago and the sun was rising over the horizon, heralding in another hot, humid day. Police teams had been deployed before sunrise to each of the locations that Hernandez had uncovered, FBI agents with them, to search for the missing dancer and Brian O'Conner. They'd originally been planning on waiting until morning, but local police had found out that Tony Andretti hadn't been home since the night Tianna Holloway had been taken and the investigators had decided to move forward sooner.
"Did you have any luck?" the DEA agent asked hopefully, setting her steaming cup of coffee aside.
"We found Andretti tied up in the basement of the Cutler Bay home, but the two Miami apartments were clear," Bilkins reported tiredly. "Hernandez is checking to see if there's any place he missed."
"Did any of you check Henderson's properties? Or Young's?" Monica questioned.
"Stevenson is checking Henderson's," Harper replied. "If that turns out to be a bust, then we'll check Young's, but his profile reads like he's in the clear."
"The profiles can be misleading," Monica said and Harper nodded.
"You and I both know it, but a judge will nail us to the wall if we try to get a search warrant for any of his properties on more than a vague suspicion," the other woman replied. Monica nodded, grabbing her coffee and sliding off the table to wake Hernandez's abandoned laptop, fingers flying across the keys. "What are you doing?"
"Seeing what I can dig up about Michael Young. If he's really marrying Nadine Wallis, out of love instead of as a convenient front, he's probably involved in her business. If so, someone has to have something on him," Monica told Harper. Harper hummed in agreement and wandered off, likely to see if there was still coffee in the office coffee maker. If not, she'd likely tell Bernice, or Ryan, depending on who was holding up the fort at the front desk for the day, that she was heading over to one of the half a dozen nearby coffee shops for a few minutes and to call her if something important came up. Bilkins leaned against the wall, struggling to keep his own eyes open. It had been a long night of digging for clues, and the entire team knew that the longer a person stayed missing, the lower the chances were of finding them alive.
Hernandez rapped on the door frame and stuck his head into the room a moment later, expression worried. "We have a problem," he said. "Henderson doesn't have any property in the sunny state of Florida. If he's here, he's either staying in hotels or with his half-sister."
"Young does have property in Miami," Monica said, looking up from Hernandez's laptop. "One home that belonged to his grandmother, not far from Dark Magic, and a second one bought just two days before the kidnapping."
"That timing's a little convenient," Hernandez muttered. "But I'm not sure a judge would go for it. All the evidence we have is circumstantial."
"I can take my normal vehicle and cruise by, just to check out the set up," Bilkins volunteered. "The rest of you can do some digging on Young and see if you can get enough evidence to convince a judge to let us go in."
"Sounds good," Hernandez agreed. "I'll tell Stevenson where you're going." Bilkins nodded in acknowledgement, leaning over Monica's shoulder to look at the address.
"It isn't far from here," Monica told him. "Depending on the traffic, you should be able to get to the neighborhood in ten minutes."
"I'll see what I can do," Bilkins told her with a tired smile, heading for the door.
The front office of the FBI headquarters was busy, people in suits hurrying back and forth. Bernice was the one at the front desk, a steaming cup of coffee sitting next to her thermos as she fielded calls and welcomed agents. "Grab a cup of coffee before you drive anywhere, honey," she called after Bilkins when he waved at her. "You look like you need it." Then she adjusted her grey streaked, dark hair and grabbed the phone before it was finished ringing for the first time.
Bilkins decided to take Bernice's advice, stopping by Cool Beans to grab a cup of coffee before changing directions and cruising towards the low income end of town. His personal car was several years old and dented on one side from the time his niece had borrowed it back in LA, but it was still nicer than most of the vehicles parked in front of houses with sagging porches and paint that was peeling in the humidity. That earned him a few curious stares as he drove by, but mostly people ignored him. Turning a corner, Bilkins made his way cautiously down the street, noting the number of swing sets and plastic sandboxes lurking in people's tiny back or front yards.
The house that he had come to take a look at was located at the end of the street. The front porch was the same, ancient, warping structure that was in front of every other house on the street, but the door looked brand new. Bilkins turned around at the end of the cul-de-sac and stopped at a house two doors down, stepping out of the car and making his way up the steps to knocking on the front door. It had been painted green at one point but, unlike the new door at the end of the street, the paint was peeling off in large hunks.
"Can I help you?" the young woman who answered the door asked. She had her hip cocked against the door frame and her dreadlocks were pulled back behind a red handkerchief.
"Sorry to disturb you," Bilkins apologized. "I was just wondering if you know who is living at the house at the end of the street."
"Who's asking?" she demanded before wincing at a crash from the house behind her. "Alex, if you broke something that wasn't yours, I will whoop your ass!" There was a muffled response that made her roll her eyes before turning her attention back to Bilkins. "Sorry about that."
"Younger sibling?" he asked and she nodded.
"Yeah. And I am so glad I came home from college to deal with this. Now who are you?"
"FBI," he told her, pulling out his ID and letting her take a good look at it.
"Mmkay," she said after a moment. "You wanna know about the house at the end of the road, right?"
"Right," Bilkins confirmed with a friend smile.
"Honestly, I'm not sure who they are," she said. "They come and go at weird times, always in groups, and they drive really nice cars. You know, for this part of town." She shrugged, not really seeming to care what was going on.
"Have they done any improvements on the house?"
"Aside from the new door, nothing," she replied. "The house was in good shape though. The people that owned it before? They got a raise and moved to a nicer neighborhood."
"Thank you for you time," Bilkins told her and she nodded, not bothering to wait until he turned around to shut the door. His phone rang as he headed for his car, displaying the number of the FBI office. "Bilkins," he answered.
"Any luck?" Monica asked on the other end of the line.
"I found the house," Bilkins told her. "There's a new door on it, but otherwise it looks abandoned. One of the neighbors said that people come and go from time to time, but I didn't get anything specific."
"Okay," the DEA agent sighed. "Head back this direction. We'll see if we can dig up enough on Young to get a search warrant."
"I'm on my way back now, unless there's anything else you need me to check on."
Miami, Florida
July 18, 2003
Brian's arms were cramping and his fingers ached as he struggled to undo the knots that kept him pinned to the plastic folding chair. He'd managed to shift the ropes around so he could reach the knots around the time Tia had drifted off to sleep. Beyond that, he hadn't managed to get very far in his escape attempt, and he had the horrible feeling that he was running out of time. It wouldn't take that long for his captors to figure out that Brian Earl Spilner didn't really exist. It was likely that the identity had been destroyed after the failed attempt to bring Dominic Toretto and company in for the truck heists. If Brian was still around at that point, he was ending the night with a bullet in the head. That wasn't how he wanted to go out, and he definitely didn't want the blonde across from him to have to see that.
Footsteps from the floor above them had Brian relaxing his hands and hoping that whoever came down the stairs wouldn't notice that he'd managed to get one of the knots untied. "Jacob, untie him," Brian heard a voice snap. "Mike, you untie the girl. And don't screw up this time." The man speaking made his way into the former cop's view, gun held easily at his side. Brian had spent enough time in law enforcement to recognize that the handgun was a Beretta 92, one of a few standard police sidearms. The way the man held the gun suggested that he knew how to use it, and the chunk taken out of his shoulder confirmed that. Even in the shadowy basement, with crappy illumination coming from the staircase behind them like they were all living in some horror movie cliche, Brian recognized the speaker as the man who'd shot him.
Tia gasped when Mike untied her, startling awake as Brian stood and stretched out sore muscles. "What's going on?" the blonde asked, eyes darting nervously between Brian and Mike.
"We're just going for a little walk," Mike said, voice pinched and reassuring smile wavering. Tia swallowed hard but nodded, allowing Mike to guide her up the stairs.
"Follow her," the man who'd shot Brian ordered. "And don't give Jacob any trouble or he'll put another bullet in you." Jacob grinned at Brian, moving his coat aside to reveal another Beretta. Brian nodded and made his way up the stairs after Tia and Mike. There were too many guns around, ready to be pointed at his head for him to risk an escape attempt.
The group made their way out to the straggly grass of the house's backyard. Mike kept Tia near the door, drawing out a Glock and holding it against her temple with a hand that shook. She flinched away from the cold metal, startled, but settled when the gun followed her head, eyes wide and a little bit angry. The night air was relatively cool, most the humidity filtering off with the sunlight and a nice breeze ruffling the curls that were growing out again on Brian's head. He'd have to have them cut again soon. Miami was far too warm to allow his hair to grow out.
"Five steps towards the back of the yard, Brian Spilner," the man in charge sneered. Brian did as he was told, stomach sinking down towards his shoes. He turned slowly, unsurprised to see two handguns pointing at him. "Explain something to me," the man said in a conversational tone. "Why, when I look through the databases for a Brian Earl Spilner, do I find no one that is even close to your description?"
"I dunno man," Brian lied, shrugging cautiously. He kept his eyes on Jacob and the group's leader, wanting to know if they were planning on shooting him.
"I think you do," came the cold reply. Brian smiled in response, the expression more a feral baring of teeth than any sign of happiness. "And I think you'll tell me who you really are, or I'll shoot the girl."
"W-What?" Tia stammered, voice panicky. At the same time Mike yelped, "I thought you said she wasn't going to be hurt."
"Oh grow up, Mike," the leader growled, turning away from Brian. "You cannot possibly be so naive as to think that we'd let a witness walk away after all this is over with." Then he turned back to Brian. "Tell me who you are, now," he demanded.
"Does you sister know about this, David?" Mike cut in before Brian could respond and the leader's expression turned dark.
"Jacob, shoot the girl." Brian set his teeth, knowing that there was nothing he could do to prevent what was about to happen. He was too far away from anyone to even attempt to grab a gun. There was a moment of tense silence and David frowned, glancing over his shoulder at Jacob. "What are you waiting for?"
"I'm not shooting my boss's fiance," Jacob said and David turned to the side to see what was going on. Brian took the chance presented to him and lunged forward, slamming his full weight into David. As the two crash to the ground, he caught a glimpse of Mike standing in front of Tia, his frame almost completely blocking her from sight. The two of them wrestled in the grass and Brian flinched when a gun went off, followed by a yelp of pain. David had the advantage of weight, size, and muscle mass over Brian, so the flinch was the only thing he needed to get in a blow that sent Brian reeling.
The fist that connected with his stomach had Brian gasping for breath as he was shoved aside, David rolling gracefully to his feet. Brian made it to his knees in time to see David's gun leveled at his forehead. "I guess that if you want something done right, you really have to do it yourself," he snarled, finger curling around the trigger. Brian braced himself, hoping vainly for an opportunity that he knew wasn't coming. The first bang had him flinch and David's whole body jerked with the impact of the bullet. The thunderous sound of gun fire issued again and again, sending red blooming across David's chest and blood splattering across Brian's face. He scrambled to his feet as David's body collapsed, watching with wide eyes as Mike turned to the gun towards Jacob.
"Put your weapon down," Mike ordered, hands no longer shaking and demeanor no longer nervous. Tia was standing a little to his left, eyes wide and stunned looking.
"Okay, man," Jacob said, slowly holding the gun out to his side and crouching down to place it on the ground. Brian could hear wailing sirens in the distance, guessing that one of the neighbors had called the cops, so he turned his attention to Mike.
"It's all over," he told the other man, absently noting that Tia sagged with relief when she heard that.
Mike met his eyes, looking tired but determined, and nodded. "Yeah, it is."
"Jacob Miller, Michael Young, you are both under arrest for kidnapping and attempted murder. You have the right to remain silent..."
Los Angeles, California
July 19, 2003
"In a surprising turn of events, Miami-Dade Police and the FBI took down international drug runner Nadine Wallis and her fiance, Michael Young. Wallis is being charged with multiple counts of murder, drug trading, money laundering, and kidnapping. Young is facing two counts of kidnapping and will shorten his prison sentence by testifying against Wallis. The kidnapping victims, a former Los Angeles police officer and an employee of the club Dark Magic, were both retrieved unharmed." The perky, brunette reporter smiled just before the view changed back to one of the news anchors. Mia Toretto reached for the remote, muting the television with a frown.
"Don't be silly," she murmured, barely resisting the urge to stand and pace restlessly. "There's probably dozens of former LAPD members in Florida." Her fingers tapped on her knees and she chewed on her lower lip before letting out a sigh. Who was she kidding? According to a newspaper article she'd found a month ago, Brian had ramped a car onto an Argentinian drug lord's yacht to rescue a DEA agent. Getting himself kidnapped by an international criminal was exactly what her one time boyfriend would get into.
Mia flipped off the television and headed for the door. The store needed to be open in an hour and, since Dom and the others had fled in the aftermath of Race Wars, it was her main source of income. She might be able to drive like a pro, but putting cars together after they'd broken had always been her brother's talent. Mia had always been more excited about learning how to put people back together. That was ironic now, considering that she couldn't even keep herself together anymore.
She'd fallen hard for Brian, in a way that she'd never fallen for anyone else. She'd given him her heart, and she'd genuinely believed he'd felt the same. Then, after she'd already got into a full out argument with Dom over the truck hijackings that he'd been pulling, Brian had told her that he was a police officer. The revelation had shattered the happy bubble that Mia had been living in. She'd thought that she'd finally found someone outside of Dom's gravitational orbit, but instead she'd discovered that Brian had been there because of her brother. He'd used her as a way into Dom's crew in order to turn her family in, and a large part of her was still bitter about it.
The one consolation that Mia had was that Brian hadn't turned Dom in. She'd found out from his sergeant, Nick Tanner, that Brian had given her brother the keys to his Supra after Dom had wrecked the Charger, a thought that made her cringe, and let him run. Tanner had been digging for information, about Brian, not her brother, but Mia hadn't had anything to tell him even if she would have wanted to. Brian hadn't contacted her since Jesse had been shot by Johnny Tran outside the house. Mia shuddered and picked up her pace, hurrying towards her car without glancing at the sidewalk. Even though one of the neighbors had scrubbed under the bloodstains were gone, she still couldn't bare to look in that direction. Jesse had been family, and the knowledge that he was dead was just as crushing a blow as the knowledge that Brian had lied to her.
Brian had insisted that he'd loved her. He'd told her that everything he'd said that he'd felt for her was genuine. Mia didn't know if she could believe that. Brian had let Dom go, but she wasn't sure why. Had it been because he'd loved her, or because he'd come to feel like a part of the Toretto family? The only way she'd get her answers was by going to Miami and talking to him, but she wasn't certain she could do that on her own. Parking outside the store, Mia banged her head against the steering wheel, flinching as the horn honked. She needed someone she could talk to honestly in order to get her head on straight, but everyone she trusted with this was gone.
Mia stepped out of the car and headed for the store, hoping that some hard work would calm her whirling brain. There was a figure leaning against the door, making her hesitate as she turned around from locking her vehicle. She squinted against the harsh light of the rising sun and her breath caught in her throat when she finally recognized who was standing there, waiting for her. "Letty?"
The story will continue in Puzzle Pieces...