Haunting Lies - Book cover

Haunting Lies

Hope Perales

Chapter Two

Miranda slapped a thirty-round magazine into the receiver of her rifle and then checked the sky, wary of the impending storm. The air was heavy with the scent of rain that would soon start to fall.

“Everything all right?”

Casey Hicks, her father’s best friend and her own personal lifesaver, gave her shoulder a gentle nudge.

Tall and stocky, Casey towered over her petite frame. His soft skin was the color of smoked honey, his gray hair short with a buzz cut, and he had blue eyes.

She’d gained a close relationship with Casey over the years. Maybe it was because he wanted her to succeed. She thanked God every day for this man.

He had not only been a great friend, but a great mentor. He’d always pushed her to do better. If she gave one hundred percent, he wanted one hundred and ten.

“Yeah.” She shrugged, desperately trying to look nonchalant.

“I noticed you’ve been a little distracted today.”

“That obvious, huh?” She gave him a weak smile.

“You can fool the others, kiddo. You can’t fool me,” he murmured, his dark eyes regarding her intently. “What’s got you all messed up?”

“Mia.” She shook her head and sighed.

“And what’s going on with Miss Mia?”

“Well, we were supposed to spend the day shopping together. It was the first time in a while that we could spend some quality time with one another, you know.

“But work sort of got in the way of our plans.”

“I take it she got upset?”

“Yeah, she did.”

He pursed his lips at her. “She’s about that age where she doesn’t understand how hard our job is; doesn’t understand our schedule. My kids were the same way at her age.

“Even Olivia when we first started dating,” he answered as he placed the earpiece into his ear.

“How do you do it with Olivia and the kids?”

“It’s hard,” he said. “I won’t lie. It takes a lot of effort and hard work to make it work.”

“I guess this is the part where you tell me it’s worth it.” She rolled her eyes.

“Look, we’re not the only ones with demanding jobs, Miranda,” he said. “So you need to ask yourself, what are you really afraid of?”

Casey squeezed her left shoulder before he joined the rest of their team, leaving her alone.

She clenched her jaw tightly. Me? Afraid?

***

“Hey, Hastings,” Agent Ruiz called. “Are you sure the intel Tadford received on that informant was good? I don’t think they’re coming.”

Miranda turned her head to Ruiz and glared.

“They’ll be here, I’m sure of it,” she said as she leaned against the nearest tree. “Any word on Tadford?”

“No, ma’am. Last he checked in he was still at the office running over a few things with the informant,” Ruiz confirmed.

Miranda was about to speak when Hicks straightened as he caught sight of their target through his binoculars. “Well, what do you know,” he said. “Looks like they showed up after all.”

“Positions, everyone,” Miranda said. “When the exchange is complete between the two parties, we move in.”

Everyone nodded eagerly and took up their positions.

From her location, Miranda could see both Stoker below her and the surrounding area in all directions.

She could see the warehouse where the deal was supposed to occur, and several large cargo boxes being unloaded from a flatbed semi-trailer to a forklift.

Minutes passed and they had no trouble. Nobody came near the trees.

Stoker’s buyer emerged from the warehouse, and the two exchanged words for a moment, ignoring the cluster of trees and their temporary residents.

Another few minutes passed, and the two men strode over to the wooden containers. Stoker’s buyer looked around to find something to open the box with before spotting a crowbar.

He went to pick it up, and Miranda watched as he fit the crowbar under the top of the wooden box and jimmied it open. With a loud crash, the top fell to the ground.

Miranda’s eyes narrowed. What they expected to be a major drug bust wound up to be much more sinister indeed.

Stoker revealed to his buyer secret compartments beneath several dozen fruit crates containing hundreds of pounds of heroin, various semiautomatic weapons, and explosive devices.

The buyer withdrew a fat envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to his supplier. They shook hands and exchanged a few words.

When their conversation ended, each went their separate ways. The transaction was complete. It was time to move in.

“Go, go, go!” Miranda motioned for all the agents to storm the area, and instantly, dozens of feet went into action.

A brigade of uniformed and armed agents emerged from the trees on Stoker’s left. Stoker opened fire at once, along with several of his crewmen.

***

Miranda flinched, feeling the bullet whizzing past her ear as she slammed the heel of her hand against the side of the offender’s head.

Then she clubbed her fist against the nape of his neck, rendering the man unconscious.

“Son of a—” Hicks growled. “I’m out!”

Miranda’s hand quickly found the pocket of her vest to retrieve a full cartridge and tossed it to her partner.

“Make it count!” she yelled over the loud gunfire.

Hicks reloaded his weapon and kneeled on one knee behind a crate and leveled his rifle at one of the men and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet straight through the cranium, killing him instantly.

Miranda caught sight of their suspect, Eli Stoker.

“Hicks, cover me!”

She heard Hicks curse under his breath. The situation was going to hell. She knew he’d back her up, but she’d be out of sight before he could get a good aim.

Miranda Hastings ran as fast as her body would carry her, ignoring the burning in the muscles of her legs.

She was glad of the training she’d received over the years that made it possible for her to keep pace.

Fueled by anxiety and adrenaline, she caught up to the suspect who was loading several black duffle bags into an International CXT truck.

“Eli Stoker, DEA,” she announced, leveling her gun at the back of his head. “Step away from the vehicle, turn around, and put your hands behind your head!”

Stoker reached for his weapon and whipped around, pointing the pistol at her.

“Drop the weapon, Eli!”

“You drop your weapon!”

“The only way you’re getting out of here is if you put the gun down,” Miranda said as she inched closer to Stoker.

“No! No way!” he shouted. Eli stared at her coldly and didn’t budge.

Miranda stared back.

“Federal Agents have this place surrounded. There’s nowhere to go. This ends right here, right now.”

Stoker shook as the gun wavered hopelessly in his hand. She noticed him glance around, anxiety showing in his every move.

Finally, he muttered a curse under his breath, and grudgingly, he obeyed and dropped the weapon.

“Put your hands on your head,” she barked at Stoker.

Miranda raised her gun. With her free hand, she pulled her cuffs out from her breast pocket and cautiously approached him.

“On the ground!”

“What’s your name?” he asked as he watched her take a step toward him.

She didn’t respond.

“What’s your name?” he repeated.

“Special Agent Miranda Hastings,” she finally said.

“Well, Miranda Hastings,” he said. “You just signed your own death warrant.”

He was fast, but she was marginally faster.

He tried to drive her backward and slam her against the concrete wall, but she slid out of the way, raising the Glock with the muzzle three feet from his leg, where she pulled the trigger.

As Stoker screamed and fell to the ground, she felt her pulse race and her hands began to shake. She fought to level her breathing and steady her hands.

She couldn’t let him see her fear. He had threatened her life. Seldom did Miranda regret her choice to go into law enforcement, but this was undoubtedly one of those times.

“Hello? Earth to Hastings?” Hicks’s voice broke through her daydream and brought her back to reality in a hurry.

“What? Oh, sorry! What did you say?” she asked sheepishly as she realized he’d been talking to her as officials hauled Stoker away.

Hicks shook his head and chuckled lightly.

“Come on, space case. You do that on a mission and you could end up dead.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Miranda sighed tiredly. “It’s just that I’m a little—”

Her sentence was cut short when the duo heard several voices shouting as Stoker grabbed the gun of a SCAT official and fired at them.

The bullet struck Miranda high in the chest and knocked her backward.

The room was chaos. The blur of angry faces running toward the danger. The noise. Shouting and more shots. More commotion in the room and men’s angry voices.

Stoker lay unmoving across the room. Blood. So much blood.

“Hastings!” Hicks rushed to her side just as she was getting off her back, sitting up on the cold cement floor.

“I’m all right!” she reassured him. Breathing raggedly, she struggled to her feet.

“I saw you get tagged, Hastings. That scared the hell out of me.”

“Me too,” she said, hysteria in her voice, fighting to control it. “That son of a bitch shot me, my God.”

“Did it catch you in your vest?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

Miranda looked down to see the damage the bullet had done to her vest. The slug had flattened against the vest, drawing no blood whatsoever. But Christ, it had hurt.

The impact had knocked her off her feet and driven the breath out of her. She felt as if she’d been hit with a baseball ball at full force.

“Hicks, you do not tell my parents that happened—ever.”

He laughed, but his eyes showed the relief that replaced the worry she’d seen take up residence in the past couple of seconds.

“Okay, come on. Let’s go get that looked at.”

Hunched over in pain, hobbling toward the front of the warehouse, she nodded.

***

Miranda watched from the back of the ambulance as they loaded the gurney with Stoker’s body into the back of the coroner’s van and slammed the doors shut.

She lowered her gaze to her bulletproof vest, no longer wearable, the small fibers ruined from Stoker’s bullet.

It was days like this she was grateful for her body armor. It saved her life. She was given another day to live, another day to be with Mia.

She sighed, recalling Hicks’s words: “So you need to ask yourself, what are you really afraid of?”

I’m afraid of dying. I’m afraid of leaving my daughter behind.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the paramedic pulled out a bag of IV solution and a needle kit from one of the drawers.

She’d always hated needles, the idea of being fully aware that something was about to hurt but having to endure it calmly.

“Sir, seriously, there is no need for that. I’m fine.” She moved off the gurney, grabbed her Kevlar vest with one hand, and moved toward the doors.

“No. What are you doing?” Hicks’s tone was stern, authoritative.

“I have a daughter to get home to,” she said. “I’m not about to spend what remaining time I have off in a hospital bed when I could be at home with my little girl.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m indestructible.” She grinned as she made her way toward her SUV.

She climbed into her Chevrolet Tahoe. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, listening to the sound of pouring rain outside.

She was so tired, not to mention stiff and sore—nothing a bath couldn’t cure.

Her Nexus buzzed, making her jump. She glanced at the screen. It was Mia. It was way past her bedtime. What was she doing awake?

“Mia,” she answered tiredly.

“Mommy, help!” she cried.

Fuck!

Her scalp prickled, and all the hair on her body stood to attention as adrenaline flooded through her system and her world stopped spinning.

“Someone’s trying to break into the house.”

“Okay, sweetheart, calm down.”

Cranking up her unit, she switched on the emergency lights and siren, locked up a hatful of gravel, and roared down the highway toward her house.

“Mommy, where are you?” Mia wept.

“It’s okay, I’m on my way. Just hold on, sweetheart,” she reassured her. “Can the two of you get out of the house?”

“No, he… He’s out there.”

The drive from the other side of town usually took thirty minutes, twice that at rush hour. She kept her foot jammed on the gas, blasting through stop signs and red lights, screaming around traffic.

She picked up the walkie-talkie off the dash and said, “This is Special Agent Hastings, any units clear to handle hot prowl in progress? 3129 23rd Avenue.

“I have my daughter on the line; both she and the caregiver are unable to get out of the house. Code three. Repeat, hot prowl in progress at 3129 23rd.”

The radio crackled into life, and one of the available units responded.

“113, P.D., show us en route, code three.”

Dispatch squawked back at him over the radio, but she was too focused on what was happening to Mia to listen to what they were saying.

She pressed down harder onto the gas, watching the MPH meter fly up, and flew around a turn.

There was a loud noise of wood splintering and then a loud thud as though a door had been knocked down.

“Oh, God.” Mia wept. “He broke the door.”

“Mia, run upstairs now! Lock your door and don’t come out till I tell you to.”

Miranda heard Brooke yell in a panicked and urgent voice, “Please, please don’t do this!”

“Mia. Stay on the line with me, sweetheart. Do not disconnect, okay?”

Just then she heard a gunshot go off on the other end, causing her to jump. Mia screamed. She pressed the button on the walkie-talkie and quickly said, “Shots fired. I repeat, shots fired.”

“Copy that, Agent, calling for back-up,” dispatch said. “1099, code three. Repeat, 1099, code three, 3129 23rd Avenue.”

“Mia?”

Miranda could hear Mia panting as she ran up the stairs and a door slamming shut.

“Mia, baby, talk to me.”

“I’m…I’m here. I’m upstairs in my room,” she spoke quietly. “But the door, it won’t lock, Momma. He’s in the house. I…I think Brooke might be dead.”

Miranda pushed the button on the radio.

“Unit 113, what’s your ETA?”

“Six to eight!”

Fuck!

“I don’t know where to hide, Momma,” she cried.

A red haze clouded her vision as she drove closer. She was now only twelve blocks away. The fear in her voice was solidifying and ripped her heart in two.

Mia, all alone. She could barely take a full breath knowing she was beyond her reach. She clutched the steering wheel tighter.

“Okay, Mia,” she said.

“He’s gonna find me!”

“Here’s what I need you to do, sweetheart. Go to the window. Open it,” she said.

“I need you to go down the trellis and run as fast as you can to the Clarks’, okay? As fast as you can, sweetheart. Go. Now.”

“Okay.” Her voice quivered.

Then she heard the phone being put down. She heard Mia grunting with effort as she pushed open her bedroom window. The phone rustled.

“No,” Mia sobbed. “I’m stuck! My shirt… It’s caught onto something.”

“Pull, Mia!”

“I’m trying!” she wept. “Mommy, he’s coming. Please, I’m scared.”

“I know you are,” she said. “We’re almost there, baby. We’re almost there.”

Then Miranda heard the door open, and the piercing creak of an unoiled hinge scraped the hollows of her bones.

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