Winter's Secret

by Mary Stone

  Marie lifted an eyebrow. “The Russians wanted Eric Dalton to get them a witness for a RICO case?”

  Winter nodded. “We think so. Agent Stafford said that RICO case had the Russians on edge. We can ask Sergei if we need to confirm it.”

  The SAC shook her head. “No, I trust Agent Stafford’s judgment. Right now, we’ve got a dirty cop to track down and a kidnapped young man and woman to find. I take it Alek didn’t give you anything?”

  Bobby scoffed. “Asked for a lawyer before we’d been in there two minutes.”

  “Can’t say I’m surprised.” Marie took a sip of her coffee. “He’s a little higher up in the food chain than Sergei. They’re willing to spend the big bucks for his lawyer.”

  Winter wrinkled her nose. “Shouldn’t that be the other way around? The little guys are easier to get to than the bosses.”

  With a shrug, Marie straightened herself to stand. “Maybe. Just don’t tell them that. What’s the plan, Agents?” Her dark eyes flitted back and forth between Winter and Bobby.

  Bobby tapped a pensive finger against his chin. “Well, whoever this dirty cop is, he’s got to be sweating a little bit by now. His two buddies are both in federal custody, and we’ve kept almost the whole investigation to ourselves. Maybe we go to the station that was in charge of Agent Hansford’s case before they handed it to us, and we dangle a little bit of information out there. See who bites.”

  Winter offered Bobby an approving nod.

  It seemed Noah wasn’t the only one who was more clever than he let on.

  As Marie gave Bobby a similar approving nod, she looked grim. “One dirty cop undermined all the hard work of a thousand dedicated ones. I hope your plan catches him or her quickly. I’m sure this goes without saying by now, but just let us know if you need our help. Our audio techs are still working on the 911 call. By their best estimate, they ought to have it finished later tonight or sometime tomorrow.”

  Winter hesitated before she asked the next question. She knew how sensitive the pending RICO case against the Russians was—so far, two people had been kidnapped and a federal agent had been killed over it. “What can you tell us about that RICO case? Is there anything about it that might point us in the right direction?”

  Pursing her lips, Marie looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure that there is, honestly. It’s the biggest case we’ve managed to pull together against the Russians since they moved into Baltimore. There are a couple Russian bosses, or brigadiers, that we put away. They’re being held without bail right now, and so are a handful of others. About half of them are in the country illegally, so they’re looking at the potential for deportation to a Russian prison if they’re convicted.”

  Bobby blew out a long breath. “Like SSA Parrish said, shit rolls downhill.”

  The SAC’s entire face grew rigid as she leaned forward, pinning both Winter and Bobby to their seats. “I hate dirty cops, and trust me, they are everywhere. It’s time to send a message. Find this so called ‘Detective Smith.’ When we find him, we can tie him to this RICO case. Chances are good, if we get him to talk, he can point us in the direction of any other dirty cops he knows about.”

  Winter and Bobby both nodded their understanding.

  Perfect, Winter thought as they turned around to leave.

  Now, the stakes were even higher.

  31

  I’d been at the precinct for less than a half-hour when I got word that Alek had been arrested. The officers who’d taken him in had brought him straight to the FBI field office without so much as a pit stop to the police station.

  My concern wasn’t that Alek would talk—I knew damn well he wouldn’t—but rather the evidence that had led the FBI to him in the first place. I’d entertained the idea of taking the opportunity to fly to Panama, a country notorious for its lack of extradition laws. But in spite of its flaws, Baltimore was my home. I wasn’t going to tuck my tail between my legs and run from my home unless I discovered for myself that the situation was hopeless.

  If it turned hopeless…I was ready.

  Under the guise of helping the homicide detectives piece together information about Alek and his operation, I decided to head upstairs. Though the majority of the department’s records about Agent Hansford’s murder had been shipped off to the FBI, I knew the men and women who had been present for the initial sweep of the crime scene.

  To my relief, Detective Vinson was in a briefing room by herself when I arrived. My questions were benign to start. I knew I couldn’t immediately ask what she thought the FBI had on Alek and Sergei.

  “So,” I said as I draped my gray peacoat over the back of the chair at her side. I glanced to the glossy eight-by-ten photographs she’d splayed along the table as I sat. “What are you working on? I heard the Feds snagged a homicide case from you guys a couple days ago.”

  She shrugged. “We didn’t complain. It looked like a doozy, honestly. They thought it might’ve been connected to another of their cases, and then it turned out that the vic was an undercover agent. Captain wants us to get our clearance rates up before the end of the quarter, so he was fine with letting it go too.”

  I covertly studied the files on her desk. “Connected with another case? Which other case? One of yours?”

  Her eyes flicked to the photos as she shook her head. “No, this isn’t related. This is something else I’ve been working on since the Feds grabbed that case from us. Double homicide, starting to look like a jealousy love triangle type situation.”

  I nodded my understanding. “At least those are usually open and shut. Jealous husband caught his wife with someone else, killed them both, end of story.”

  Vinson tossed the photos on the desk and rubbed the space between her eyes. “Pretty much, yeah. But they help the clearance rate, so I don’t complain when I get them. They make me look good.”

  “Unlike the cases where undercover Feds are killed with no witnesses and no apparent motive.” I had to play this right, not giving away my interest. “And when they’re tied to another case.”

  Blowing out a sigh, she leaned back in her chair. “That’s no kidding. Sounds like they did all right with it, though. Arrested two Russians so far, or at least that’s what I’ve heard.”

  I bit back the sudden rush of trepidation and forced an air of nonchalance to my tone. “Do they think those two guys were involved with the other case too?”

  Vinson nodded. “Even if they haven’t said so, I’d bet my ass they are. There’s some kind of physical evidence from the kidnapping case that links them to the agent’s murder too. I was at the house with a couple agents that were here from Richmond. That place was immaculate, but, man.” She paused for another quiet chuckle. “Those two, I can definitely see why they’re Feds. They knew exactly where to look, almost like the shit just lit up for them.”

  I made my best effort to look impressed. “Guess that’s why they’re paid the big bucks, huh?”

  “I suppose, but it was weird and interesting how zoned in they were.” Vinson picked the photos back up. I was losing her.

  I tapped the folders on her desk. “It’s a good thing they took over that agent’s murder case then, huh?”

  Before she could refute or confirm my remark, Vinson’s gaze snapped over to the open doorway. I turned to the newcomers as the corners of her eyes creased in a smile.

  Vinson pushed herself to stand. “Speak of the devil.”

  Even if the duo weren’t unfamiliar, I would have been able to tell them apart from the city cops by their mode of dress. Not just the man’s sharp black suit or the woman’s slacks and pale blue dress shirt, but the way they held themselves. Their strides were purposeful. Even their smiles were purposeful.

  I didn’t have to hear their introductions to know that they were Feds.

  The woman’s eerie blue eyes shifted from Vinson to me and then back as she clasped the detective’s hand. The fluorescence overhead caught the shine of glossy, raven black hair that she’d fashioned into a neat brai
d that fell over one shoulder. I’d realized long ago that women weren’t for me, but between her dark hair and fair complexion, even I could admit that she was good-looking.

  Though she was easily four or five inches taller than Detective Vinson, her male companion stood at least six inches taller than she. Now, this one was more my type. Tiger eyes, fashionably styled dark blond hair, and a tall, leanly muscled frame.

  Was being attractive a prerequisite to join the FBI?

  I brushed aside the thought before I could dwell on it. I couldn’t afford to be distracted, not right now. Despite the folksy drawl with which he spoke, there was an unmistakable keenness in his amber-colored eyes.

  The bureau hadn’t sent their second-string agents.

  These were the A-team—the best and brightest the FBI had to offer.

  And while they hadn’t announced the reason for their presence, the chill that crept up my back told me I didn’t want to know.

  It was weird and interesting how zoned in they were.

  When the female agent turned those blue eyes back on me, I knew I needed to get the hell out of there, and I needed to do it now.

  32

  Though Winter was pleasantly surprised to see Detective Vinson at her and Bobby’s first stop for the afternoon, her attention was drawn abruptly to the man at her side. He hadn’t let his attention drift away from them as he shrugged into his coat. That wasn’t unusual, though. There were a whole host of city detectives who were leery of the FBI.

  With a pleasant smile, Winter sidestepped Detective Vinson and extended a hand to the man. “Afternoon. I’m Agent Black, and this is my partner.” She paused to wave a hand at Bobby. “Agent Weyrick. We’re just here doing a little follow-up on a case.”

  As he clasped her hand, the detective nodded.

  That was when Winter saw it.

  At first, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her, or that the specks of red were part of the fabric of the gray peacoat.

  But the red color was only visible on his arms.

  She had to put forth a Herculean effort to maintain a neutral expression as the significance dawned on her. So far, Natalie and Jon’s kidnapping had been connected to Drew Hansford’s death by the tiny metal particles found at each scene.

  Until now, all the items illuminated by Winter’s sixth sense had been just that—items. This was the first time her brain had pointed her to trace evidence.

  All at once, she snapped out of the contemplation.

  The detective offered her a nod as he returned her smile. “Nice to meet you, Agent Black. Agent Weyrick. I’m Detective Johansson. I was just stopping by to see how Detective Vinson was doing before I headed out for the day.”

  Winter turned her head to regard Bobby and dropped the feigned smile to flash him a look. He drew his eyebrows together as he shifted his gaze back to Detectives Johansson and Vinson.

  She offered the two detectives another smile as she returned her attention to them. “We won’t be here for too long. We were honestly just hoping to get a little more perspective on the city. Can you both stay and help us out?”

  Detective Vinson seemed pleased. “Sure, not a problem.”

  When Winter shifted her gaze back to Detective Johansson, his lips curved into a slight smile. She hadn’t been sure before, but now she was certain that the expression was feigned. “Yeah, no problem.”

  Stepping back to Bobby’s side, Winter spread her hands. “Great. Let us just grab a couple pens and some paper.” Once she was sure the detectives couldn’t see her, Winter threw Bobby another vehement glance.

  “What?” Bobby asked as soon as they were out of sight. “You keep looking at me like that. Am I missing something?”

  Dammit.

  Now came the hard part—the part where she had to explain to another federal agent why they should be suspicious of someone that her weird-ass ability had pointed out.

  Winter cast a paranoid glance in either direction before she leaned in to reply. “Detective Johansson. When we walked in, Vinson said ‘speak of the devil.’ That meant they were talking about the bureau or even us before we got here. He matches Sergei’s description. He’s tall, white, and he’s got dark hair. Sergei said something about a gray coat, too, didn’t he?”

  She knew he hadn’t, but she was desperate. They couldn’t let Detective Johansson leave, and she needed Bobby’s help.

  Bobby furrowed his brows as he cast a puzzled glance at her. “Maybe? I’m not sure. I can’t remember it, but if you do, then I guess so.”

  “We stick to your plan. We dangle something about Drew’s murder, something about our case, and we see how he reacts. In the meantime, I’ll grab some tape or something and get a sample of what’s on his coat.”

  Blowing out a quiet breath, Bobby nodded. “Okay. We told them we were getting paper and pens, so we’d better go grab those before we go back in there or he’ll know something’s up.”

  Winter nodded. “Good catch.”

  After they retrieved a few pieces of paper from the tray of a nearby printer and a piece of double-sided tape used for collecting trace evidence, she and Bobby made their way back to the two detectives. Though the method was unorthodox, Winter hid the sealed tape by stuffing it down the front of her shirt. Bobby’s expression turned curious, but he didn’t comment.

  Waving the sheet of paper for the detectives to see, Bobby pulled up a chair to sit across the table. The sunlight that streamed in through the picture window on the other side of the room caught the face of his watch as he pulled the cap off his pen.

  “Okay, well.” Bobby’s amber eyes flicked over to Winter as she made herself a seat at his side. “Y’all probably know a little bit about what we’re looking into, don’t you?”

  Winter had to do a double take to make sure that the source of the down-home charm was Bobby and not Noah. If their accents weren’t slightly different, Winter might have been convinced she had stepped into The Twilight Zone to meet Noah’s twin brother.

  Detective Vinson nodded. “A little. I was with Agent Black at the Falkner house. You guys think the same people who kidnapped her are the ones who killed the agent, right?”

  With a charming smile, Bobby returned her nod. “We do.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  When Detective Johansson posed the question, Winter’s pulse picked up. His question pushed any lingering doubts out of her mind.

  As Bobby leaned back in his chair, he shrugged. “There’s some evidence we picked up that ties them together, but honestly, we’re a little bit stumped on the motive. We can’t quite make out why the people who killed Agent Hansford would’ve wanted to kidnap Natalie Falkner. And Natalie was kidnapped before Agent Hansford was killed.”

  Winter dared a glance at Detective Johansson. The glint of curiosity in his pale blue eyes was unmistakable.

  Bobby’s gaze flitted from the detectives to the whiteboard. “You know what? Here, maybe this’ll help.” With one more look to Winter, he pushed himself to stand.

  At the wordless comment, she nodded.

  Even if Bobby could capture Detective Johansson’s attention, they still needed him to take off his damn coat.

  As Winter took in a sharp breath, she made a show of rubbing her upper arms. “I’m so used to Virginia’s weather. I forgot my coat at the hotel this morning. Do you guys have access to the thermostat by chance? I’m freezing my ass off.”

  Detective Vinson gave her a sympathetic smile and gestured to the doorway. “Beside the door. People are always messing with it this time of year, so someone probably turned it down.”

  Winter bit back a curse of frustration as she rose to stand, but once she faced away from the detectives to adjust the thermometer, she grated her teeth.

  She was sure Bobby would have more than a few questions about her logical connections, but she shoved the thoughts from her mind.

  The clock was ticking, and they had a corrupt cop to nail.

  33

&nb
sp; A panicked phone call from Eric Dalton was close to the last experience Noah wanted for himself that day. He’d just gotten word from the Baltimore office that the remainder of Drew Hansford’s 911 call had been cleaned, and his initial plan had been to head to the office to listen to the recording.

  Before he’d even had a chance to wake up his laptop, he’d received the panicked call from Eric. Then again, panicked didn’t quite encompass Eric’s desperate tone and flurry of words. Noah had half-expected the man to hyperventilate in the middle of their short phone call.

  “Please, Noah. I need to see you. Can you come here right away?”

  If it hadn’t been for the blatant desperation, he would have been inclined to tell Eric where exactly he could put his request. Clearly, something was wrong, but Eric had been unwilling to elaborate over the phone. Instead, he’d assured Noah that he would fill him in as soon as he arrived. But not before he stopped by his place and changed out of his monkey suit. The last thing a safe house needed was a bunch of suit-clad people going in and out, drawing unwanted attention.

  Clad in worn jeans, a Chris Stapleton concert t-shirt, and black and white flannel, he greeted Miguel Vasquez and stepped into the living room, where he found his father. Eric’s eyes were hallowed, his expression one that bordered somewhere between unadulterated fear and paranoia.

  As soon as he spotted Noah, Eric leapt to his feet.

  Miguel cleared his throat. “You want me to leave, Dalton?”

  Without glancing back to him, Noah raised a hand. “Just a second. I don’t think you need to go anywhere. What in the hell is going on, Eric?”

  The skin-crawling sensation that Noah got when he felt he was being watched—the slight chill of unease mixed with hyper-awareness—rushed up to greet him as soon as his eyes met those of his father’s.

  This wasn’t right.

  Nothing about this entire damn room was right.

  To reassure himself, Noah glanced over his shoulder to Miguel. Agent Vasquez had been with the bureau for close to twenty years. Though his carefree demeanor made him seem like a jovial uncle, there was the same sharpness behind his dark eyes as there was behind Bree’s or Aiden’s.