Page 28 of Love Me Darkly
“We can have it tested. See if there’s any trace amounts.”
“I’ll leave that on your plate for the day. I got other shit to do.”
Donovan raised an eyebrow. “Like explaining to Carlisle how you got those photos, the footage, that inhaler?”
“For a start.” Mateo stood and fought not to whimper like a little girl. His every muscle protested movement, but to sit and let himself get stiff would only make matters worse. “I’ll brief the team when I get to the office. Stop off somewhere on your way and get me the biggest café au lait on ice you can find.”
Without waiting for a response, Mateo crossed into the bathroom and slammed the door. On the other side, he heard Donovan muttering under his breath before the outer door closed behind him. He switched on the shower and began peeling off his clothes.
After arriving back at the hotel a few hours ago, he had gone right to his desk to scribble his notes. Then had come a few tumblers of Scotch while he uploaded the photo and video files to his laptop to prepare them to send to Carlisle. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep while waiting for the large files to upload, but had somehow nodded off.
The memory of what had happened after Mateo discovered Mari’s body had come back to him in pieces over the past year. He had awakened in the hospital with Smith on one side of him and Williams on the other. They had filled him in on how the SWAT team arrived almost too late to find Mateo still alive. The UNSUB had fled by then, and a neighbor could only report having seen a figure in black fleeing the house in the dark. His hair and face had been covered, and he’d worn gloves. Not a fingerprint or strand of hair had been left behind. They were testing the blood found at the scene, but were fairly confident that most, if not all, of it was his. Angelica was safe in protective custody. He had sustained seven stab wounds and a collapsed lung. He might suffer nerve damage to his shoulder.
The rest returned to him in snatches, and after the attack last night, it had snapped into focus with startling clarity. Mateo stepped into the shower, bowing his head under the spray. He left the water as hot as possible, letting it singe away the goosebumps that rippled along his skin.
He had said nothing of his familiarity with his attacker’s words to Donovan. Before he could act on what he had recalled, he needed time to turn things over in his head. Closing his eyes, he thought back to that day with the clinical eyes of a criminal profiler. He called on his every sense, trying to recall what he had heard and smelled and felt. When he reached for the memories, the sharp burn of the knife puncturing skin and muscle always greeted him first. Then the smell of blood. It had taken him months to remember where the bruise in the center of his chest had come from, the futility of fighting against that crushing force. The UNSUB had been strong; as strong as the man who had attacked him last night. He had whispered those same eerie words.
Blood and breath.
It was one thing he had remembered beyond the searing pain of the knife piercing between his ribs.
Blood and breath.
He had been so awash in his grief, he hadn’t stopped to think those words had meant anything. The UNSUB was exactly what Mateo had made of him. Narcissistic. Calculating. Sadistic. No one could figure out how the man had sniffed out Mateo’s involvement in the case. No one could identify him. Ultimately, the forensic evidence from the scene proved fruitless. The only blood collected from the scene had been his and Mari’s.
Mateo made quick work of washing and grooming himself. He scrubbed the taste of old Scotch out of his mouth, used his clippers to slough off his stubble, and forced himself into a clean suit. He left off the tie, in no mood to wrestle with a knot after the night he’d had. There was just enough time to shoot the photo and video files off to Carlisle before he was out the door, his thoughts writhing over and around each other like a nest of snakes.
He arrived at 7:01 to find that his attention would be the most coveted possession of the day. Williams, Smith, Darcy, and Donovan all descended on him at once, talking over each other to be heard.
Mateo held up a hand to silence them, then snatched his coffee from Donovan. They waited impatiently while he took a long sip and then sighed.
“One at a time,” he grumbled. “Darcy, go.”
“Good news and bad news,” she said, thrusting a fresh set of files at him.
She looked like she hadn’t slept the night before and smelled distinctly of coffee and ramen.
“Bad news first … I’m working every source at my disposal, but I still haven’t been able to identify the owner of Valemont Holdings. The company is registered under a trust that loops through a foreign shell company in the British Virgin Islands, which lists the fake name, Jonathan Blake, as the owner. Even the IP addresses I traced wound through encrypted, anonymous VPN chains and burner domains. Whoever this guy is, he’s a ghost.”
“Keep digging,” Mateo replied. “Look into any connections to Berenger Warehouse. Check into the financials, specifically looking for suspicious payments or invoices. Run every lead into the ground. We need to know who this guy is.”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n. Now for the good news. I added the code from those crates—BAZ-024—to my dark web sweep and found something in a Tor forum. In a discussion of esoteric religious philosophy and drug-induced transcendence, I picked up on mentions of ‘the breath’ and ‘Azrael’s Gate’. They seem to be speaking in code, so I can’t make sense of much. Only references of worthiness and ascending through ritual fire.”
Mateo met Donovan’s gaze. The agent gave him a slow nod as if they shared the same thought.
“Link your search for the owner of Valemont to the BAZ-024 code. Look specifically into customs records, shipping manifests, logistics databases … anything that might tie Valemont or Gulf Atlantic Freight to this. Last night, I found what I think is a delivery device for this BAZ-024. Some kind of drug that reduces pain response and increases physical strength. The man who attacked me last night huffed it right before.”
Darcy swiveled in her chair. “Check records and manifests to see if Morrison and the Valemont Ghost are running drugs as well as women. Got it.”
“And the other thing I asked you to look into?”
He gave Darcy a warning look before she could speak, hoping she would remember that his last request to her had been on a need-to-know basis.
“Still working on it, Boss. Should have something for you this afternoon.”
“Fine. Donovan?”
“Heading out to take the inhaler for testing as soon as we wrap up here. I know a guy at the regional crime lab, and he owes me a favor. Testing will be discreet with a 12 to 24-hour timeline.”
