“Or you’re lying to yourself.” Harrison saw far more than she wanted him to. “Either way, I get the picture. It’s none of my business.”
Madison opened her mouth to retort, but thought better of it and instead changed the subject. “Any luck with the IP address?”
“Actually that’s why I was looking for you.” His eyes brightened with excitement. “I think maybe I’ve got a name. It took a while to narrow it down to an Internet service provider. As I suspected, there were relays, but I finally worked my way back to point of origin—and an owner. Guy named W. Smith.”
“No relation to Bingham, right?”
Harrison shook his head. “That’d be too easy. Fact is, I really don’t know too much about him. He hasn’t got a record and no prints on file. And with a name like Smith, he’s not exactly easy to isolate. There was a phone number and a post office box. I got it from the ISP. I tried the phone, a Virginia exchange, but it was disconnected. The box is in Charlottesville. Place called Mail Smart. But according to the manager, the guy who rented it closed his account a couple of days ago.”
“The name match?”
“Yup. But the application didn’t provide much info. Same disconnected phone, and a physical address that would mean he’s living in the middle of Downtown Mall. Bogus all the way.”
“The manager remember what the box owner looked like?”
“Nope. Not a thing. Charlottesville is a college town, so it’s not unusual for people to come and go.”
Madison blew out a slow breath. “Looks like our Mr. Smith covered his tracks. If he exists at all. Any chance it was just another relay point?”
“No. The hacker was definitely working from that IP. But he could have used a computer from anywhere.”
“How about a driver’s license?”
“Found a couple thousand in the U.S.” He grimaced, swallowing some of his tea. “There weren’t any in Charlottesville, though. Although I found around fifty in Virginia. We’re sorting through them now.”
“So we’re back to the needle in the haystack.” And then some. Madison would bet her life savings that W. Smith didn’t even exist. At least not under that name.
“It would seem so. But I’m not ready to throw the towel in yet. Payton’s working on aliases. Maybe we’ll get a hit there. And I’ve got a few more things I want to try. If he exists, we’ll find him.”
Of that Madison had no doubt. Harrison took this sort of thing as a personal challenge and he wouldn’t quit until he’d found everything there was to find about Mr. Smith. Trouble was, that kind of searching took time. And quite honestly, she had the distinct feeling that time was running out.
* * *
Gabriel stood in the doorway of the operations room, automatically searching for Madison. She was in the corner at the computer. Her ponytail spilled out across the blue of her shirt, and he crushed the urge to taste the soft satin of her neck, instead settling for the simple pleasure of goading her.
“You were gone when I came back last night. You have other plans?” He purposefully kept his voice brusque, waiting for the rise, knowing it was coming from the sudden tension in her shoulders.
She whirled around, anger flashing, and he felt a moment of triumph. If he couldn’t arouse her passion the old-fashioned way, this would just have to do. “I waited until almost nine and then gave up. I gather you decided to sleep in?” She shot a pointed look at the clock. “I’ve been here since six.”
It was only 7:30 a.m. but he still felt as if she’d scored a point and the idea didn’t sit well. “So what are you doing sitting here? I thought I told you to talk to Cullen.”
“I did.” She paused for a beat, her smile overly sweet the exact opposite of the expression in her eyes. “Last night. And your suspicions were groundless. He was trying to help Janice Stewart, just like I said. Under the circumstances, he had no reason to believe there’d been foul play. It was only later, after Jacob Dashal’s death, that he began to have questions.”
“Convenient answer, don’t you think?”
“Or maybe, considering what happened in Iraq, you just want Cullen to be guilty of something.”
Her words took him by surprise, hitting closer to the truth than he cared to admit. “Who told you about Iraq?”
“Payton.” Her eyes darkened with regret. “He really only mentioned it in passing, and I shouldn’t have said anything about it. Certainly not like that.”
Contrite was an emotion she didn’t wear well, and he almost wished he hadn’t snapped. Almost. “He shouldn’t have talked about it at all.”
“I was just trying to understand the bond between the three of you.” Her hand fluttered aimlessly through the air. “I didn’t know that it was off-limits.” Her color rose, a bit of the spark back in her eyes. Madison wasn’t the type to stay down for the count.
A part of him was glad.
“It’s not off-limits per se. It’s just ancient history. I don’t talk about the past. Frankly, I’m surprised you got Payton to tell you anything.”
Her smile was brittle. “It’s what I do, remember?”
Maybe he’d underestimated her profession. Payton wasn’t an easy mark. If she’d gotten him to open up… He considered the thought, and then dismissed it. The woman was causing enough trouble without him allowing that she might actually have value beyond decoration. “Regardless of what he told you, what happened all those years ago in no way affects my ability to lead this team.”
“If your relationship with Cullen is colored by what happened, then I think it does.” She was standing now, hands on her hips. “Maybe that’s why he wanted me along for the ride.”
“To keep me in line?” He took a step toward her, but she held her ground. “Honey, there’s not a woman alive who can do that.”
“A moot point, surely—” she moved forward, eyes narrowed, her gaze locked with his “—since no one is likely to volunteer for the job.”
“Are you sure?” She was so close now he could count the freckles spattered across her nose, feel the warmth of her breath against his skin. “Seems to me you were more than ready the other night.”
He felt rather than saw her intake of breath, and saw the slight dilation of her pupils. He’d hit home, but she wasn’t about to admit it.
“I think you’ve got it backward, Mr. Roarke.” The whispered name might as well have been a blasphemy. “If I recall correctly, it was you who chose to engage. And you who lost control. And, if I had to call it, you who wouldn’t have been able to stop.”
“Are you implying I forced you?” The words came out on a rush of anger, the emotion cresting inside him, red-hot.
“Of course not,” she snapped. “I never do anything I don’t want to.” She blanched as she realized what she’d said, taking a step backward in defense.
With a twisted smile, he moved in for the kill. “Checkmate, I believe.”
“Hardly.” Her lips twisted into the semblance of a smile. “I never said I wasn’t involved, Gabriel.” This time his name came out sounding like cream for a cat. “Merely that I wasn’t the one who lost control.”
Again he felt a surge of admiration. Madison Harper was a worthy opponent. Not that he wanted one.
“Hello, you two. Having a bit of a spat, are we?” Nigel’s voice broke between them like ice water, and Gabe turned to face his friend, but not before he saw Madison’s hand rise to her throat, the look of relief passing across her face just this side of insulting.
Damn the woman.
“We were just discussing Cullen, and his involvement in the murders.” Madison stepped around him, all signs of their quarrel successfully banished from her voice. “Gabriel seems convinced that Cullen’s been holding out on us. And I was just trying to prove that he was wrong.” She shot him a simpering smile. “But as you’re no doubt aware, he’s not an easy man to convince.”
“Yes. I’m afraid, he’s far more the yours-is-not-to-question-why type. But then, I’m told some people se
em to prefer that.” He shot a knowing glance at the two of them, clearly not fooled for an instant. “Despite that, however, I do hope you’ll allow me to interrupt your tete-a-tete. I come bearing gifts.” He held up a manila envelope.
“The phone records.” Gabe reached for the envelope, but Nigel shifted, moving it just out of reach.
“Now, now, surely you’re not going to rob me of my triumph.” His eyes sparkled with mischief, and Gabe contained a sigh of frustration.
“Nigel, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Madison was frowning at the two of them. “Care to enlighten me?”
“With pleasure.” He waved magnanimously at the table behind them, and they all moved to have a seat. “Besides discovering that Candace Patterson had an amazingly dysfunctional family, we also learned that she’d been called away from work by a telephone call the night she died.” He patted the envelope.
“And you’ve brought us the record of her calls.” Madison nodded with a smile, clearly up to speed. “So what does it have to say?”
“There are two incoming phone calls that fit the time frame, the first at nine forty-two and the second ten minutes later. Each lasted less than three minutes.” Nigel opened the envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper. “The first was from a number in the East Village. I’m having it traced, and the second was from here.”
“Our operations room?” Madison took the sheet of paper, scanning the contents.
“No. The call went through the main switchboard at Dreamscape.”
“Cullen.” Gabe said the name softly, almost as an afterthought, but Madison heard him, her gaze colliding with his.
“We don’t know that.” She chewed the side of her lip, returning her attention to the sheet of paper. “This isn’t a very good copy.”
“It’s the best I could do.” Nigel shrugged. “And I almost didn’t get that. There was the little matter of authorization. They weren’t all that impressed with my British credentials. I’m afraid I had to resort to flattery or we’d have had nothing at all.”
“All that matters is that you got it.” Gabe reached for the page, taking in the two highlighted lines. “And that we’ve got the numbers. Based on what Lex Rymon said, I think we can be fairly certain the first call is the one he referenced. She must have gotten the second after she left.”
“So either one could be the killer,” Nigel said.
“Well, Lex said the first call made her angry, right?” Madison looked to Gabe for confirmation. “And then she ran out of the dining room. So that makes caller number one look pretty darn suspicious.”
“And since she was working with Cullen, a call from Dreamscape isn’t all that unusual.” Nigel said.
“But it’s certainly not conclusive. The second caller could be the one.”
“Is there a telephone log here at Dreamscape?” Madison asked, propping her elbow on the table, resting her chin against her palm.
“No. At least not at the switchboard. The phone company has one. But unfortunately it doesn’t show extensions,” Nigel said.
“So it could have been anyone.” Gabe fought to control his frustration.
“Well, that late at night there has to at least be a record of who was in the building.” Madison frowned.
“One step ahead of you,” Nigel said, pulling more papers from the envelope. “There were around sixty people present that night. And over a third of them have had some contact with the accord or the consortium.”
“It might be worth running the list by Cullen.” This from Madison. Gabe frowned as their gazes met and held. “He might be able to shed light on who did or didn’t know Candace.”
“Maybe. Unless, of course, he’s the one who made the call,” Gabe said, knowing he was baiting her.
“I’m sure he’d have told us if he’d talked to her.” Her voice conveyed an assurance that wasn’t reflected in her eyes. It was a solid attempt at defense, but he could see she had doubts. He ought to count it as a victory, but somehow the taste of success had turned rancid in view of her distress.
Nigel cleared his throat. “Why don’t I check on it? Under the circumstances, it might be better than one of you taking the old boy on.”
Gabe started to argue, then lifted a hand in surrender. Maybe Nigel was right. Hell, maybe Madison was right. Maybe he was still holding on to his resentment. If Cullen hadn’t gotten them all involved…
But that was stupid. What happened hadn’t been Cullen’s fault. No, that blame rested securely on Gabe’s shoulders. Nothing would change that fact, and he’d do well to remember it.
“Fine,” he said, pulling his thoughts from the past. “You handle it. But don’t let Cullen snow you with rhetoric. It’s his specialty.”
“I think I can handle him.” Nigel grinned. “After all I’ve been known to turn a pretty phrase when the moment called for it.”
“Fine. And in the meantime we’ll wait to ID the first number.”
“No problem there.” Harrison strode through the doors, carrying his laptop. “Ran into Nigel in Starbucks,” he said by way of explanation. “And I’ve got an address.”
Chapter Fourteen
The building was a walk-up, the kind with boxes for rooms that sometimes rented by the hour. Gabriel was leading the way, Nigel manning the alley, with Payton watching the entrance.
Madison had Gabriel’s back, much to his annoyance. And after the sixth flight of stairs, she had to admit the victory was losing its thrill. He’d hardly said a word on the way over, not an unusual state of affairs, but the tension between them had only increased with their most recent battle.
Something about the man just brought out the worst in her. When Nigel had interrupted earlier, she’d felt as if she’d been rescued from the maw of a tiger, yet at the same time she’d resented the Brit for intruding. Hell of a conundrum, and to further complicate matters, now she was climbing stairs with the man—guns drawn.
As they rounded the corner onto the sixth-floor landing, Gabriel motioned her against the wall. Apartment 6A was just ahead of them, the “A” hanging perpendicular to the six. According to Harrison’s information the rooms were rented to a W. Smith, the same name used in Charlottesville.
Obviously not a coincidence. Which probably meant there wouldn’t be anything to find. After all, the phone call had emanated from a cell phone, and even though this was the address of record, it could easily be a fake. Still, there was no sense in charging in unprepared.
She slid her back along the wall, trying not to think about the grime embedded there. They inched forward until Gabriel was beside the door. Quickly he knocked, and Madison held her breath, counting to ten as they waited for a response.
Nothing.
Gabriel knocked again, and Madison’s heart pounded in rhythm against her ribs. This time there was a clatter, followed by the unmistakable scrape of a window opening. With a nod in her direction, Gabriel moved to face the door, Sig Sauer ready.
He kicked once, the door splintering open, and stepped into the apartment, Madison following on his heels. There were two rooms, and as Gabriel rushed the living room window, she released the safety on the Glock and swung into the bedroom. The bedclothes were scattered, as if someone had left them in a hurry. And the curtains in the window swung ominously in the breeze.
Hopping over the bed, she crossed to the window. The fire escape had been released, the ladder taunting her. With a groan of frustration, she threw a leg over the sill and was out on the grating in less than a minute. Still, that, combined with valuable time lost in the hall, meant whoever had been in the apartment had a heck of lead.
She was halfway down the first ladder when she heard Gabriel calling from above. At first she thought he was calling to her, but then she realized Nigel was standing below her.
“If he came this way he’s a bloody ghost. He’s not down here,” Nigel responded, frustration evident in his tone.
The man must have gone up. Madison started moving in that direction, only to
find that Gabriel had the same idea, his big body blocking her way as he vaulted the windowsill. Swallowing her irritation, she began climbing behind him, eventually emerging on the roof of the eight-story building.
The wind blew cold across her face as she scanned the flat open space, a soft cooing, accompanied by a flutter of wings, the only sign of life. Pigeons. If anyone had been here, they were long gone.
“There’s nobody here.” Gabriel spoke from near a chimney stack, his attention on the neighboring roofs. To the north the adjacent building rose straight up, a good ten stories higher than its neighbor. No escape that way.
Madison nodded, and made her way over to the door that led back into the building. It was locked, and from the looks of it rusted shut to boot, probably breaking all kinds of city codes in the process. “He didn’t get out this way.” She rattled the padlock for emphasis.
Gabriel nodded, crossing to the opposite corner. “He could have jumped here, but I don’t like his odds.”
She joined him at the edge of the roof, eyeing the twelve-foot gap separating the two apartment buildings. There were no other ladders, the fire escape and the door providing the only real exits. “Maybe he didn’t come up.”
Gabriel shook his head. “Nigel would have seen him.”
“Maybe.” She looked down into the alley. “But there’s a door down there and a couple of windows. He could have slipped through one of those.”
Gabriel holstered his gun and blew out a breath. “Whatever he did, he’s gone now.”
“Damn it, Gabriel, if you hadn’t been in my way.” She spit out the words, her anger not at him but the missed target.
“What? You’d have flown up the ladder? He was already gone. Nothing either of us did would have made a difference.”
He was right, of course, and in light of his more than reasonable tone her anger deflated. “I suppose you’re right. So what now? Search the room?”
“Yeah. And we’ll check the alley.” He started to turn back toward the fire escape, then stopped, his dark brows drawing together. “You were good in there.”
Dangerous To Love Page 79