She started a slow jog down the middle of the parking lot, passing in front of the sedan. She kept her gaze forward, but out of the corners of her eyes, she saw the driver slink down low. Pretending not to notice, she kept running, loving how she felt. Not only was running empowering to her, she liked the solo endeavor. Jo didn’t do marathons, didn’t want to be around people when she ran. She never wore earbuds—no music, no distractions, just her. One foot in front of the other, setting a rhythm. A good feel in her legs, the air sucking in and out of her lungs. Tonight, though, that rhythm eluded her. Too much on her mind, too much to be wary of.
As her heart rate rose, she cut between a truck and another dark vehicle, then started down the sidewalk.
Kline wanted to keep tabs on her, but her saying that she liked to jog had put him in a dilemma, especially if she ran at night. Her tail had several choices to make, none of them good. If the driver left his position and followed her with headlights on, she would easily see him. He couldn’t very well drive slowly behind her without her knowing. Conversely, if he tried to follow her with the headlights off, she would still likely notice him, and she’d be even more suspicious of the car.
He could try to tail her on foot as well. However, nothing would draw more negative attention to him than him trying to keep up with her, stalking her in the darkness. In any of the scenarios, he would risk her calling the police, or Kline. She tried to think as he would, and she figured he would stay put, probably just reporting to Kline that she was out for a run.
Even with that, she didn’t trust that Kline had left surveillance of her to only the one driver. There could be someone else watching her. It also would’ve been easy for him to place cameras in trees around the apartment complex, or on one of the buildings. He was a man with resources, and he probably got away with a lot.
She kept running, feet pounding the concrete at a steady pace. She paid attention to the vehicles, noting makes and models, looking for the kind of small details that the average person would miss. That type of training had kept her alive on many missions.
When Jo reached the end of a long block, she hadn’t noticed anyone in the cars parked on the street. There were a few lights on in houses, and the sounds of road traffic carried from the surrounding streets.
Jo kept running, and a few minutes later, she approached a wooded area. She ran along the edge, then darted off the street and into the trees. After a moment, she glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone was following. The trees clawed toward the sky, the moonlight a gray glow. She ran for thirty more seconds, then stopped by a large tree and stretched.
Taking a deep breath, she ran for another minute and stopped again. In the distance, a bridge spanned a small creek. Jo kept to the shadows, still not seeing anyone. She hooted softly, and three figures materialized out of the darkness to her left. Jo checked behind her again. Only the trees. The figures approached and halted several feet from her. Jo didn’t recognize the two big men—both with crew cuts and an ex-military look. They acted as if they knew how to take care of themselves. The third person was a tall woman with long hair pulled into a ponytail. All three wore dark clothing and light jackets, and all three had guns in shoulder holsters. The woman drew near and spoke softly.
“Were you followed?”
Jo shook her head. “We’re okay, but we need to hurry. I should get back before anyone gets suspicious.”
The woman nodded. Jo looked at Special Agent Kelsey Camacho, thinking how she’d gotten to this point.
***
When she’d left the police station Thursday night, Jo had been frustrated that Detective Holton hadn’t believed her story. His sole focus had been that she was interfering in his investigation, and that the things she’d discovered didn’t have merit. She’d gone back to her to hotel, not sure what she was going to do.
She’d been sitting on her bed when a knock sounded at the door. She’d answered and found Kelsey standing in the hall with another man. They had a look—not just their attire, but their manner—that made it easy to tell they were with some government agency.
Kelsey introduced herself to Jo with the flash of a badge and told her she had questions about the bank robbery. Jo knew there was more than that, but she humored the woman and told her what had happened.
The discussion had gone on from there, and Jo realized that the agent had talked to Detective Holton. Kelsey then swung the conversation to what Jo had been doing since the robbery, all her stakeouts and conversations. When Jo finished going through it, she wasn’t surprised at what Kelsey said next.
“We’ve had JD Babineaux under investigation for several months now.”
“What did he do?” Jo asked.
Kelsey blinked a few times, as if contemplating how much to share. She didn’t disguise the way she studied Jo, and then she asked about Jo’s background. Jo told her, but it was obvious Kelsey had heard it all before.
“We think Babineaux is behind the murder of two local women several years ago,” the woman explained.
“Women he had affairs with?”
“Yes. Well, one of them, anyway.”
“Why kill them?” Jo asked. “A lot of people have affairs, and it doesn’t go anywhere.”
“Babineaux doesn’t just have affairs. He has . . . certain sexual preferences, deviances . . . that were not acceptable back then, and maybe still wouldn’t be now. He’s a rich and powerful man, and he wouldn’t want that information to get out. He spent some time with that woman, and even though he was careful, and he had his partner sign an NDA, she broke the agreement and told a friend about what she’d done with Babineaux.”
“The second murder.”
“Yes. This friend—I’m not going to tell you her name—went after Babineaux and tried to blackmail him. She had the kind of information that would certainly ruin not only his marriage, but his reputation. You know Babineaux has political aspirations?”
Jo shrugged. “I read something about that.”
“People will overlook a lot, but not murder. He had both women eliminated. If that comes to light, he could go to prison. Even if he’s able to defend himself in court, at bare minimum, it will ruin his career.”
“Babineaux wouldn’t be stupid enough to commit murder himself.”
“No, and neither would his right-hand man, Donald Kline. He takes care of security for Babineaux and his family. Kline would’ve arranged everything so that Babineaux’s hands are clean.”
Jo thought fast. “But Trent Fontenot had uncovered all this.”
Kelsey nodded. “Trent approached us recently and said he had information about Babineaux. He had details, proof that Babineaux was behind the murders, but Trent didn’t tell us what. We were about to meet with him again when he was murdered. We think he had that proof—his research—in a safety deposit box at National Bank, and Babineaux knew that as well.”
Jo stared at the Special Agent, thinking she’d been right in her suspicions. She thought back over everything others had told her.
“No one knew what proof Trent had?” she asked.
Kelsey shook her head. “He was too scared to tell anyone. It took him a long time to approach us. He was worried about what Babineaux would do to him.” Her eyes momentarily went sad.
“Babineaux’s behind Trent’s murder?”
“We think so, but we can’t prove it. The people we’re dealing with are extremely good at what they do. They’ve covered their tracks well.”
“Except for whoever talked to Trent.”
“Yes. Once some time has passed, people sometimes talk.”
