Inside Information: Kathy Sear & Greg Hawkins Series, Vol. 1

By Michael E. Field

Detectives Greg Hawkins and Kathy Sear are assigned this investigation and almost immediately they realize this is not a simple break-in gone wrong.

The more the Detectives investigate the crime the more elaborate the plan appears, with the mastermind of the plot willing to do anything to avoid detection and cover their
tracks.

Detectives Hawkins and Sear realize quickly they are in a race against time in determining the identity of the mastermind before evidence is destroyed and all links to
the criminals are forever erased.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Write Words Inc.
• Release date: Jun 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781594317880

Book preview

Prologue

The old factory stood dark and silent, bathed in the eerie glow of a full moon, outlining the shadows against the flowing river behind. A small glimmer of light inside the building illuminated the main walkway running down the middle. On each side of the aisle, large wood tables sat covered with a mixture of undisturbed saw dust and piles of small wood scrapes.

An old man, bent after years of moving wood and pushing a broom, walked slowly down the aisle. He started at one end of the factory where he opened the first power box and threw the main switch. With a loud clank one-quarter of all the factory overhead lights went out for the last time, casting that side of the factory floor into darkness. The man closed the metal door over the switch with a bang and slowly moved to the next power box where he repeated the same move.

Ralph Meade started working at the lumber factory nearly half a century earlier, before he finished high school. After high school he stayed on, slowly but surely working his way up the employee seniority list, if not the corporate ladder. He held employee number one, a position he’d held for the last fifteen years. When asked when he would stop working he would reply with a sly grin, a twinkle in his eye. When we close the lumber factory, I will be the one turning out the lights and locking the door. Ralph now finished his work at the factory much as he had started it—pushing a broom, sweeping up the saw dust and bits of scrap wood.

The lay-offs started as business slowed and when they continued everyone figured the end was near. When the final word came down most all of the work force was let go, with just enough retained for close-down operations and maintenance.

Everything with any value was sold; only the tables and some odd bits and pieces of machinery remained. All repairs and up-keep halted and complete close down activities started.

Ralph walked in a clockwise pattern and sealed the doors with locks as he came to them. He trudged to the back and worked his way forward, turning off the bank of power and lights in each control box.

At the last switch next to the front door, he turned around for one more look at the dark factory that stretched over a hundred yards in length, or almost one-hundred fifty years, depending how you looked at it. He let out a sigh, flicked the last power switch, and stepped into darkness of the autumn evening.

Ralph locked the front door, climbed into his car, and drove the last two hundred feet to the front gate. He stopped the car just outside the gates, swung the gate closed and looped a thick heavy chain through the fencing and around the main support poles.

He double checked the lock to make sure it clicked closed then climbed back into his car and drove away without glancing in the rear view mirror.

Chapter 1

Richard Woods strolled up the walkway that connected the airplane to the main terminal building. The artificial hallways were either bitterly cold or deadly hot, and they always angled uphill or down and tilted slightly to one side. No matter how many airports he passed through, the walkways were all the same.

His flight to Chicago arrived on time, and he was greeted by cold spring weather. Easily thirty or forty degrees colder than Atlanta, he thought. Earlier that afternoon, he could have walked around without a suit jacket, but now he wished he had his lined trench coat.

Richard was worn out from three days of business meetings, bad hotel food, and preparing reports for the home office. A familiar tightness settled in his back, a symptom that popped up when there was a storm in the area. On the approach to O’Hare, the plane experienced the type of turbulence that told him the storm would arrive soon.

All he wanted was to be home. His original schedule had called for him to leave Atlanta late the next morning but the business meetings had gone better than expected, and an agreement had been reached late in the afternoon. He had not even had a chance to call his wife to let her know he would be coming home early, and judging by the time of arrival, she would be asleep by the time he landed. Normally, he would have taken the train into the city and then a cab home, but not tonight. Tonight it would be cab all the way.

Richard climbed in and gave the driver his address. He closed his eyes and let his head drift back, resting it against the seat cushion, and for the first time in a couple of days, he let his mind wander.

He thought of his wife, Dana. They had met in their second year of college and nature took its course after that. She was what every man dreamed of: a striking blond with an incredible body, a face that belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine, smart, and with a career ambition that complemented his type-A personality.

They married a few years out of school and built their lives together while balancing their demanding careers: he became a communication systems salesman, and she an event coordinator. His job took him out of town too many days for his taste, but the monetary rewards helped make up for the nights they spent apart. And when he returned home, they always took time to celebrate as if they were newlyweds. Dana more often than not would take the lead in this department.

She had a sex drive and a stamina that never left him wanting more. He especially liked it when she dressed up in her little red teddy and heated the massage oil. Then she would lie down…

I think we’re here, the cabbie said, jolting Richard out of his dream. The storm had arrived in force as raindrops hammered the window glass. He paid the fare, jumped over a puddle, and trotted down the sidewalk to his old brownstone house.

Richard dug through his pocket for his key while the rain pelted his back. The house was dark which didn‘t come as a surprise given the late hour. Any noises he made with the jangling of his keys and opening the door were drowned out by the storm.

He closed the door behind him and turned the dead bolt, then let his eyes adjust to the dark. Dripping in the hallway, he closed his eyes and inhaled the familiar smell of antique, polished wood. Home again.

He put down his luggage and hung up his coat, debating whether to get a beer from the refrigerator or just head upstairs and put an end to a very long day. But then again, Dana might have alternate plans, depending on her work schedule the next day. A long and sustained yawn quickly settled that argument, and Richard wandered up the stairs.

He could just make out a dim light beneath the bedroom door once he reached the second floor hallway. The sound of quiet voices coming from the room usually meant she had fallen asleep with the television on again. Maybe he’d watch a late night talk show and then hit the sack. He quietly turned the doorknob but froze in place as he stared at the sight before him.

Two naked bodies intertwined on the mattress, thrashed before him. Barely visible from the flames of two small candles on the night stand, the fire flickered in response to the air being disturbed by opening of the door. Dana kneeled on the bed, her hands tightly gripping the brass railings of the headboard, her eyes closed, panting and groaning in pleasure. Her long hair clung to her back and forehead, drenched with sweat. The man positioned behind her thrust deep inside, matching her groans with his own, both oblivious to everything around them.

Richard stepped back into the hallway as he extended his arm to brace himself from falling into a large bookcase. As he steadied himself his hand came in contact with a stone gargoyle bookend.

At the same time, the grunts and groans coming from the room raised in volume and intensity, snapping Richard out of his daze. Rage swept over him and his fingers closed and tightened around the gargoyle. A primal scream began, deep within his core, tossing and turning before it erupted as he burst through the doorway.

The man gripped Dana’s hips, holding in her in place as he emptied inside her. The release was so intense the man never heard Richard scream before the bookend crashed into the back of his skull.

Richard did not swing a second time as his attention focused on the red mist that exploded from the head and sprayed the wall.

Dana’s lover collapsed as if he was a puppet that had its strings cut while his dead weight pinned her to the mattress, one arm slid off to the side and his body covered her back.

Dana’s eyes flew open and attempted to absorb the nightmare that lay around her, the side of her face covered with blood.

Before she could say a word he stepped forward and swung with all his might. He struck her in the head and upper torso; over and over, losing accuracy as he exerted a primal brute force.

A few minutes later he stood over the bodies, sweat covering his face and dampening his shirt; gasping for air. His arm hung at his side, still gripping the gargoyle as the last bit of rage slowly drained from his body.

Wiping the sweat off his face with his left hand, he allowed the gargoyle to drop from his hand to the carpeted floor with a thud. He wanted to sit down but couldn’t bring himself to touch the bed.

He spotted a pool of blood on the floor, directly under Dana’s lifeless arm as it hung over the edge. A small stream of blood clung to her skin, following the edge until it reached the tip of her thumb. Every few seconds, a drop would fall to the floor and add to the growing puddle.

Richard finally tore his eyes away from the carnage. His gaze settled on a decorative pillow with their names and wedding date embroidered on the cover. Sadness washed over him as he picked up the pillow, clutching it in his arms as he sank down to the floor. A sadness at the realization of what he had done swept over him and he began to cry—not over the lives taken but the realization that the wife he thought he married had died long ago.

The marriage he treasured all these years had only been an illusion. Looking back he now saw signs that pointed to the situation he had walked in on this evening. There was nothing obvious like a love letter or even people calling and hanging up when he answered. Small signs that by themselves meant nothing but when combined, pieced together like a well-designed jigsaw puzzle.

The storm raged outside, rain lashing the window while an occasional flash of lightning illuminated the two bodies entwined in their death poses. Richard slid down, staring at the floor while his mind ran over the years of his life, his accomplishments as well as failures.

Hours passed before Richard decided his next course of action. He walked to the window, opened the drapes, and gazed into the night.

He stood in his blood-covered shirt and jacket and an idea began to take shape, twisting and turning until all the pieces came together.

Richard tossed the pillow on the bodies without a glance in their direction, walked out of the room and down the stairs. He paused at a closet and picked out a long, dark coat. Without a backward glance he stepped into the night, not bothering to close the door.

Chapter 2

Robert Holmes stepped from the shower and ran the towel over his body. After a quick wipe of the mirror he examined his face where he saw small bags under each eye, but they had been there since law school. The shower had revitalized him, belying the sleepless night he had just experienced.

He had tried every trick in the book but an edginess that made his nerves raw had guaranteed he got minimal sleep that night. He reviewed the plan in his head time and time again, looking for any and all problems that could present themselves. Finally, he came to the realization that everything was covered, all the angles had been scrutinized, and what amazed him most is this had never been done before.

He gulped down a hot mug of coffee while he dressed in the clothes he had picked out a couple days before—business casual dress pants and a collared shirt. He had proposed the idea of going to work early but that had been rejected.

Now that he had a chance to think about it, the idea made sense. Don’t do anything unusual or out of the ordinary and it will all work out just as they planned. They had played Devil’s Advocate on every phase and they were certain they covered every possible problem.

After deciding there was no way his stomach would allow anything designated as breakfast, he grabbed his coat and headed into the pre-dawn gloom. He made the two-block walk to the subway station while remaining calm even though he felt jazzed to the maximum. He felt like he could run to work downtown and still beat the train.

After fighting through the ticket counter and up to the elevated platform, he found a spot with overhead cover before the rain started again. He heard the storm blow through last night and the clouds looked as if they had more moisture to discard. He settled and waited in relative dry conditions for the next train.

He tugged his coat closer to his neck, trying to keep the wind and chilled air from robbing him of what little warmth he had built up. He glanced at his watch and saw it was 7 a.m., meaning he would get to the office in less than an hour. After a few minutes of waiting his nerves ratcheted up his edginess to a new level and he found himself looking up the tracks for the next train as he danced from foot to foot.

Finally, a light emerged from the gloom, followed by the dull rumble as the train pulled into the platform. At first he thought it wasn’t going to stop but the brakes emitted a screeching cry as metal rubbed metal and the silver train came to a stop.

He made his way onto the train and wandered the aisle until he found an aluminum swing handle to keep his balance. He knew he wouldn’t find a seat at this time of the morning so he didn’t waste time looking for one.

With a jerk, the train started moving and it picked up speed on its trek into the city. The conductor mumbled the next stop over the intercom that nobody on the train could understand before he slapped the throttle into high.

After a few more local stops the driver set the throttle on its highest setting to make up for the time used sitting at the platform while people loaded.

The strong cross wind and narrow tracks made for a rough train ride as the car swayed side to side causing the riders to fight to maintain their balance.

The train had settled into top speed when in the distance, the conductor detected a form off to the side of the tracks, a form darker than the gloom of the early morning. He squinted to see more details when the dark form moved, stepping onto the track and spreading arms out to the side. He slammed on the brakes, all the time knowing it was too late.

***

Richard Woods had climbed around the barrier that contained each elevated subway stop after the previous train had pulled away. He could have easily made it if that had been his intention. Instead, he waited until the platform was empty and then stepped around the wood barrier before he trotted down the outer edge of the tracks until he was sure he was out of sight from the passengers arriving to catch the next train.

He wore a black trench coat, not that there was much chance of anyone on a speeding train seeing him in enough time to stop with the falling rain and lack of lighting in the section where he squatted.

Richard was there for just a minute or two when he saw a train traveling at high speed on the center tracks. He took two steps to the right until he stood on a wood cross beam in the center of the middle tracks. When it became obvious the train reached the point where stopping would be impossible, he stood and faced away from the train while asking for forgiveness for his transgressions over the last few hours.

***

Those passengers that did not have a seat or a solid grip on the handles flew forward into other commuters. Those that had a grip lost hold when the other passengers slammed into them. When the train screeched to a complete stop, Holmes found himself on top of a discarded backpack full of books and a combination of arms, legs, and torsos pinning him to the floor.

Holmes untangled himself from the pile of arms and legs and tried to figure out what happened. The screams, yells, and general bedlam that followed made the cramped subway car a situation ripe for panic. Just as everyone had begun to calm down and get their wits, the interior lights went out, plunging them into darkness and triggering a new round of screams.

An announcement came over the intercom, not heard at first, but eventually everyone stopped talking and yelling. They listened as the conductor recited the generic statement about ‘an unavoidable delay. They would be on their way as soon as possible and then he thanked them for their patience.’

Holmes looked at his watch and mentally crunched numbers. If the delay didn’t last too long the plan would be fine.

Chapter 3

Laura Doss stepped off the elevator and waved her security pass at the electronic lock to the Surveillance Department of the Great Lakes Options Exchange. She breezed through the empty reception area—Angelo the receptionist didn’t start work until 9 a.m., still an hour away—before heading to her desk.

She shook off her coat and umbrella and glanced at her phone to see there were no phone messages. She started up her computer and then headed toward the kitchen with her coffee mug in hand.

She filled the mug with a brew of hot, black coffee and returned to her desk to begin her daily review of trade reports.

An hour later she completed the report and documented her review in a central activity log. Laura glanced at her watch and mentally counted down the hours until she had to leave early for an appointment. She was relieved she could depart without any unfinished work lying around.

On her way to get a refill of coffee she noticed Bob Holmes’s desk still sat empty, the computer turned off, and his daily report sitting on his desk undisturbed. She checked her watch again and figured he must be getting an early start on the weekend. On her way back to her desk she stopped at the office of her boss, Charlie Martin.

Hey, do you know if Bob is coming in today? she asked.

Check with Angelo to see if he called. As far as I know he didn’t plan on taking today off and he didn’t call me.

Well, if he isn’t coming in, do you want me to get a jump on the Insider Trading Report? Laura inquired.

Yeah, that’ll be great. Work on what you can and if you have any questions, hit me up before you leave, okay?! Today is the day you’re leaving early, right?

Sounds good. Don’t take this the wrong way but I hope I don’t see you until Monday, she said with a cheerful smile.

She called Angelo and he told her Bob had not called off, so she scooped up the Insider Trading print-out for the previous trading day. She dug out her notes and dove into the report, trying to remember the procedure that had been explained to her earlier.

Unlike her matched trade report, the insider trading report appeared to be filled with possibilities. A few instances of unusually heavy activity in a petro-chemical company seemed to scream illegal trading. The stock experienced a sharp increase in activity but after some digging Laura found a press release issued minutes before the market opened for trading the day before.

Here’s something that looks good, she whispered to herself, as she started to examine CompQuest Inc. A trader engaged in heavy trading activity for almost ten straight trading days before a news story detailing the settlement of a lawsuit between CompQuest and Meadows Software.

Without getting too far into the story she saw the terms of the deal, something CompQuest had fought to keep confidential. Laura hit the print button for the multi-page story and then pulled up a spreadsheet listing the traders at the exchange. She matched the identifier from the report with the list of the traders on the floor and saw this person handled public customer orders as the main staple of his activity.

Laura checked the high and low price, as well as the total trading volume of activity for CompQuest and saw a dramatic jump in volume, ten-fold the average for the day. This increase, when matched with a twenty-five dollar drop in price, raised her interest level. Taking a quick glance at the total traded and the amount the stock dropped yesterday, she figured someone had just hit the jackpot. This one definitely needed some in-depth review.

A few pages later she saw Meadows Software on the list and it didn’t surprise her at all. She figured if CompQuest registered on the losing side of the trades, logic would dictate Meadows probably reacted inversely and came up as a big winner. What really got her attention was that the same trader active in CompQuest was also active in Meadows Software.

She checked further, printed information on the traders involved in the deals and details of the trades. She accumulated all the information she needed to draft inquiry letters, requests for specific information, and formulated an investigation plan when she glanced at her watch.

Laura checked her notes for things she missed and noticed one step she didn’t take. Picking up the phone she placed a call to the Western Exchange and left a message regarding the activity in Meadows Software and CompQuest. Meadows was based in Los Angeles and that stock traded primarily on the Western so she needed to check for any unusual activity on their end.

She drummed her fingers on the desk and glanced at her watch. It was a little after 11 a.m. and her train left in less than half-an-hour. She had her appointment to have her car repaired but only if she could get it there by 2 p.m.

She saw Charlie walking back to his office and an idea flashed through her mind. She strode to his office as he settled into his chair.

Hey, there are a few things on the report that I think need further review. Okay if I take it home and look over it this weekend? she asked.

Sure, if you really want to. Have a shot at it. If you have any questions just jot them down and we can go over it Monday. And by the way, have a nice weekend.

Laura stuffed the report and her notes into her carry bag while she did a quick double check to make sure she had everything she would need. Satisfied, she dashed to the elevators and again checked her watch.

She got on the elevator and turned in time to see the elevator doors opposite hers open and Bob Holmes stepped off. Damn, he looks like hell, she thought as her elevator door slid shut.

***

For the first hour after the accident Holmes kept looking at his watch, telling himself the delay couldn’t last much longer. After that, he alternated between stewing in his rage and fighting off the fingers of panic as they threatened to close around him.

What the passengers were not aware of was a series of factors that made their situation unique. The police had to collect evidence of Richard Woods’ suicide. Unfortunately his torso had rebounded off the support beams with enough force to become jammed into the braking mechanism of the car.

The Chicago Transit Authority normally would send another train to transfer the passengers if the investigation would last any length of time. But in this case the train was stuck in a spot close to a switch in the tracks that prevented another train from pulling alongside without blocking the remaining tracks.

When the CTA and police finished processing the scene, removed the body, and performed a brake check, the train slowly moved to the next station where everyone got off before boarding another train to finish the run into the city. The original train had to be moved to the main storage area where a detailed examination would be conducted.

With the way his luck had been going, Holmes wasn’t surprised when the other train was delayed due to an electrical issue. Just when he thought about abandoning the train stop and catching a cab, the replacement train pulled into the station to gather all the passengers.

For the remainder of the ride, his nerves, now raw, rattled even more as he kept glancing at his watch and it seemed that the hands were flying around the dial faster than possible.

When they finally arrived at his stop he rushed out of the car, weaving in and out of the other passengers. Three blocks later he boarded an elevator and hit the button for the 15th floor. He leaned against the wall and wiped at the sweat from his face and prayed everything would be fine.

***

Holmes got off the elevator and strode through the door, ignoring Angelo and not returning a greeting. Once at his desk he started to hang up his coat when he noticed something wrong. As he sat down it dawned on him—the daily reports that always were waiting for him were not there.

He ambled to Charlie’s office and stuck his head inside. I just wanted to let you know I’m here and the reason for the delay was because we ran over some guy on the tracks.

"You were on that train? Damn, I bet that sucked. Just when you think your day stinks you see something like this and realize it could be a lot worse.Sure could be. I don’t want to take up anymore of your time. I just wanted to let you know I’m here. Besides, I have my reports and stuff to do now."

Well then, I am going to make your day just a little better. You don’t have to worry about doing the Insider Trading report—Laura started working on it so you don’t have to worry about it. It’s good experience for her and it sounds as if she found some instances where we might have something.

Holmes felt like someone kicked him in the groin. He turned his back and hurried out of the room. He staggered back to his cube and grabbed hold of his desk, supporting himself enough to ease himself into his chair.

He snatched a half empty bottle of water off his desk and gulped in down, trying to re-hydrate his mouth and throat without success. He plopped his elbows on the desk and sank his head into his palms, letting an involuntary groan escape from his mouth.

After a few minutes sitting in his chair he quietly stood and made his way to Laura’s desk.

Holmes stood at the opening and glanced over her desk and file cabinet, looking for the report printout. They were similar in their habit of keeping their area neat and tidy. It took only a few moments of scrutiny to realize that the report wasn’t on her desk or cabinet. It would be too big to fit in a drawer so he didn’t bother checking the interior of her desk. He saw an open note pad with some writing on it and causally walked over and read her notes.

In Laura’s neat handwriting, were two rough charts with CompQuest at the top of one and Meadows Software on the other. Underneath each heading she had listed trades in the unique pattern option trades are designated. Without checking the list he had folded in his pocket, Holmes immediately recognized the trades.

He tore off the sheet and stuffed it into his pants pocket.