Page 54 of Fighting for Tawny

Jiena pounded the center console with her fists. “This is my fault! I should have planned to get them to safety. It was a mistake on my part to think nothing would happen to them.”

Hutch wrapped his arms around his fiancée and held her still. “Listen, sweetheart, it wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have foreseen this.”

She whirled around in a fury. “It’s my job to foresee things like this! They were witnesses to a murder, for God’s sake. And not just anyone. An employee of FILO. Now they’re going to insinuate themselves into my investigation.”

“I’ll call Maverick and tell him to convince his boss to allow us to handle it.”

Jiena shook her head. “No. It’s over. I need to pull Tawny and Moira out before I get them killed.”

“You can’t do that.” Finnigan’s voice held a hard edge. “Tawny is too invested. I’ve seen her interact with those women. She’ll never agree to leave them behind. And neither will Moira. She’s as stubborn as I am.”

“Finn is right,” Hutch agreed. “We’re so close to solving this case, baby. See it through to the end. You can do this.”

Jiena let out her breath and squared her shoulders. “All right. Cameron, where are those packets of heroin supposedly found in Joy’s and Precious’ cells? And one more thing. Will you ask your brother if the DEA is running an op the FBI isn’t aware of?”

“Good question. I’ll go to CIFW and pay Warden Stoltz a visit. Put the fear of God in him. I’ll let you know what I find out. And I’ll call my brother on my way there.” Cameron squeezed Justice’s shoulder as he left.

“Moira said that the guards are rotated on the weekends,” Finnigan pointed out. For whatever reason, there’s only going to be one guard this weekend, and it’s going to be me.”

“How will you pull this off?” Hutch asked. “You’ve already masqueraded as a firefighter.”

“With blue eyes and a fake name. This time I’ll go as myself. Since we don’t know whom Stoltz or whomever is sending, we’ll have to lay a trap for him.”

“I agree. Stoltz won’t be the wiser. In fact, I doubt he’s calling any of the shots. Once we nab the replacement guard, we’ll get him to talk.” Jiena gazed at the group. “Let’s work out the logistics.”

Finnigan didn’t shave for two days. The rough stubble on his face disguised his features so that it would be harder to equate him with the firefighter the women met briefly or to remark on his resemblance to Moira. He’d call himself “Mark” if anyone asked, but Moira had explained that the women tended to ignore Whitcomb and Macintosh. It was likely they’d ignore him, too.

On Friday night, Finnigan, Jiena, and Hutch sat in a fully loaded surveillance van a few hundred yards outside the fire camp. When Moira called to tell them that Whitcomb and Macintosh were leaving, they waited until the guards passed by before they pulled out of a hard-packed dirt sideroad and drove toward the fire camp. Whitcomb and Macintosh must have been notified that their replacement was on his way because an old Honda Accord approached the van in less than five minutes after the other two passed them.

Jiena jumped out of the van and flagged down the Honda. It stopped, and the driver rolled down his window.

“Is something wrong, ma’am?”

“Yes! Oh, thank God, you’re a cop! Please help me! I think my husband is having a heart attack!”

“But I’m not?—”

“Please help! Our phones died, and please! We’re wasting time!”

“Okay, okay.”

He followed her to the side of the van, and she slid back the panel door. Finnigan and Hutch yanked him inside. Jiena climbed in behind him and closed the door.

The guard gazed around in confusion. “Hey, what is this?”

Hutch took his gun, his badge, and his cell phone. “Hold out your hands.”

The guard complied, and Hutch secured his wrists with a zip tie.

“What the hell is going on here?”

“I’m Special Agent Jiena Cofield with the FBI, and you’re being held on suspicion of drug trafficking.” She met Finnigan’s eyes. “Go. Do you have everything you need?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“We’ll be here in shifts all weekend.”

“Copy that.”

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