Phantom in the Night

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  "What about Brady?"

  She should have answered quick and decisively, but got hung up on how to explain her relationship with Brady. "No, and if you'll stop scowling I'll tell you why. We, uh, dated for a while. We never were intimate," she rushed to add. "He's still interested, but I'm not. He followed me that night, because he later told me he'd suspected Conroy for a while and was worried about me. We argued about that one when I was in the hospital, but I couldn't fault Brady. If he hadn't shown up and shot the guy attacking me with a knife, the second stab would have split my chest."

  "That doesn't mean he's trustworthy," Nathan pointed out with extra force.

  She started to defend Brady, but realized Nathan was speaking as a man who had just slept with her and suspected any man.

  "He's been sharing information, so I have to trust him for now."

  "I don't. Let's go over everything you and I have so far. I didn't get a chance to tell you that I found Jamie's notes."

  "Really?" She watched for any sign of emotion, but Nathan shared nothing with his stern expression. He kept his emotions tucked far away. She couldn't fault him in light of all he'd endured.

  "Jamie found that same date in Marseaux's correspondence with a man called V. Jamie cross-referenced every date and event he could find, too, and came up empty. He was thinking biological warfare or a chemical release."

  "Nothing fits. How would anything like that be transported in tools? The small handsaw and planing tool I saw had ornately carved teak handles. There was a solid wood L square. I didn't dig farther in the box, but nothing looked suspicious."

  "I don't know," Nathan murmured to himself. "We're missing something significant."

  She checked her watch. "I really have to go. If I don't show up today I'll draw attention neither of us needs."

  "Then go."

  Nathan was back to two-syllable sentences.

  She asked, "What are you going to do today?"

  "Watch your back."

  "I'll be fine."

  "I'll make sure of it." He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her so tenderly she wanted to melt. When he stopped, Nathan said, "I—" then paused.

  "What?" She tried to read his eyes, but he just shook his head as if reconsidering his words.

  He kissed her forehead. "Let me know if you need a cell phone. I'll get one from Stoner. Keep my number with you."

  "I can't get anything done while worrying about you out on the streets with the entire world looking to hang you."

  Nathan sighed and took her hand. "Trust me. I can handle this."

  She didn't doubt his skills, but she did worry about what he'd do once he found his brother's killer.

  Would he truly wait for justice?

  * * *

  Brady and Donnie were waiting by her desk when Terri walked in. She didn't have time for this. "I'm in a hurry, got a lot to do today," she told Brady as she walked up.

  "Won't take long." He cut his eyes around, then back to Terri. "Need somewhere private to talk."

  She considered arguing, but Brady said he would be quick so talking to him might be more expedient. "Follow me." When Donnie made a move, she started to halt him.

  "Wait out here for me," Brady told Donnie, who curled one side of his mouth, annoyed. But the sidekick did as told.

  She led Brady to a small meeting room and closed the blinds as he shut the door. Terri turned to him, but was not sitting. He'd said brief, so they could stand.

  "I called the prison where Jamie Drake was serving his time. He's out and has been since Fat Tuesday. I couldn't see how Drake would be out early, but couldn't make sense of the Drake sightings. Warden said the paperwork was lost."

  That fit with what Nathan had told Terri. Suspicion coating Brady's last comment quirked her own curiosity over the paperwork being lost, but she was glad something had worked in Nathan's favor. She held her peace, waiting for more.

  "Warden wasn't too chatty until I told him we had a string of deaths related to the Drake murder since Jamie had been released. Jamie Drake is officially a suspect."

  Terri froze at those words. "What murders do you think he committed?"

  "Bennie Larriot, FinMan, and now Hatchet."

  "Hatchet? The guy who broke into my house who we arrested?" That couldn't be right and she knew it." We have him in custody."

  Brady shook his head. "You had him in custody. He was shot by a long-range rifle on the way out of his arraignment hearing."

  "When?"

  "At 5:10 p.m. yesterday."

  The shot was made right after she'd left for the container. She hadn't seen Nathan all day, not until after 6:00 p.m. That didn't mean he was guilty.

  But another death while he slipped around the city didn't look good for him, either.

  "What makes you think the shooter is Jamie Drake?" she asked skeptically.

  Brady frowned slightly, just enough to let her know she'd sounded a bit too defensive.

  "I mean, the first place I'd look would be Marseaux," she explained to cover her slip.

  "Not Marseaux's style. He normally has them capped up close, then the body left in an outline. None of these were killed that way. All three claimed to have been interrogated by Nathan Drake. He and Jamie were identical twins."

  She narrowed her eyes on him. "Something you failed to mention that night in the morgue."

  Brady shrugged, his gaze straying enough to undermine her trust in whatever he deemed worthy of sharing. "I just found out myself when I started suspecting the Drake in prison was after Marseaux's people. The intel we had when I cut the deal with Nathan Drake failed to include that. I'm not holding out. I've shared more than I should have with you."

  She couldn't argue with his last point, but she didn't want to accept that Nathan was killing people in cold-blooded murder. Terri studied Brady's face, searching for a sign that he was lying or holding back.

  He met her gaze and held it, unflinching.

  Pretty convincing, which meant she had to accept what he told her. Even if the victims were criminals, she couldn't abide murder and especially a vigilante. Not after a self-proclaimed, vigilante had murdered her mother, an innocent bystander.

  Brady cleared his throat in warning. "We have to find this guy He's a mental case, a dangerous one. And we think he's Nathan, not Jamie."

  "Why?"

  "I did some digging on the Drake in prison and doubt Jamie would have lived two years in the pen. Added to what we've heard about one running around loose who's supposed to be a ghost, we think it's a better bet that Jamie was killed."

  Terri schooled her expression to cool professional, but her stomach knotted over how Brady and his team were putting two and two together. She should be thankful for whatever reason had delayed the prison paperwork or Brady would have figured this out sooner.

  Brady wasn't through. "If we're figuring right, then we're dealing with someone who has Special Force skills and a vendetta against anyone he considers at fault for his brother's death. Dangerous mix."

  She swallowed the lump of anxiety threatening to suffocate her. The Nathan she'd gotten close to was not a vigilante. He was doing…

  What?

  Tracking down people involved in his brother's death.

  Of course, she'd never clarified what Nathan was going to do once he had that evidence.

  Terri felt the need to point out something, but kept her tone clinical. "You said Nathan was MIA or went AWOL, take your pick, to come home and care for his sick mother. So now you're saying he took his brother's place in prison, did two years?"

  "Sounds pretty noble out of context, but the bodies are piling up so I'm just looking at the evidence with an objective eye."

  That hit home. Spending the night wrapped in Nathan's arms sort of undermined any hope of objectivity. "I suppose you have a point."

  "Terri, this guy was a killing machine before he went into prison. Think that softened his personality at all? No. He's out for blood. Once he finds out I cut the deal w
ith his brother, I'll probably be next." Brady shrugged, but sent her a quick glance. His eyes searched hers for a reaction. Sympathy?

  "I think—" What? That Brady was wrong because she'd slept with Nathan and that proved his innocence? Worse. She cared for Nathan. What a mess. Brady was waiting for her to finish her sentence."—we should consolidate efforts so we can find this guy killing people." Whoever he was.

  "Me, too, but I want you to be careful. I'm worried you're not just working on a drug case, something that could get you hurt."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "I know about the break-in at the container and the missing NOPD officer."

  Nothing leaks faster than news around a police station. "What's that got to do with this?"

  "Okay, here's why I didn't let Donnie come in here with us. I'm going to square with you. Remember the virus outbreak in South America two years ago?"

  She nodded.

  "Those deaths match the ones in the Congo last year and India this week, I have a contact that believes those outbreaks are related and thinks it may be some sort of biological testing, I need any information that might be related, no matter how obscure."

  Just what Conroy had feared, but she couldn't bring herself to tell Brady. When Brady shot the killer and went to call for an ambulance, she'd crawled over to Conroy, who had lost so much blood she couldn't see the wounds. She'd held him close, knowing he wasn't going to make it.

  Conroy had whispered, "Tell… no one… not even… Brady."

  She'd given Conroy her word, so she now said, "I wish I had something to tell you, but I don't."

  "What about the container breach?"

  "You're right, someone got into the container," she admitted. No point in protecting that.

  "Rumor has it that some of the shipment was already missing," Brady leveled her with a don't-bullshit-me gaze.

  How much had he heard about the missing materials? Did he know about the teak tools or was he fishing for more information?

  She shrugged, "Philborn doesn't tell me everything. How do you think any of this is connected?"

  Lines creased Brady's forehead. Not entirely satisfied with that answer, "I might know by now if this Drake guy wasn't shutting down informants. If we end up with a viral outbreak, he's at fault for holding up my investigation."

  "That's a stretch." Too fast and too defensive yet again. She clamped her lips shut.

  "He's going after everyone connected to Marseaux. Word on the street is to hide until he's caught or killed, so our intel is drying up faster than rain in the Sahara." Brady raised his hands in a dismissive gesture as he paced back and forth. "We may have a national threat brewing with no way of determining what it is, where it will happen, when it will happen, or who is behind it. The longer this damn vigilante is loose, the harder it's going to be to find answers."

  She had to do something and everything came back to the contents in that shipping container. If Brady was right, the stolen contents might be the key to all of this. Had Taggart stolen something that would offer a clue? She had to find out, and soon. With so many innocent lives at stake, speed and efficiency counted right now, but Conroy's dire warning not to trust anyone tripped up her urge to tell Brady more.

  So what had Brady come hoping to gain from this meeting? "What can I do to help?"

  He swung an assessing stare her way that had caused others to squirm, but she returned his level gaze until he broke eye contact and spoke. "Let me know when you get any lead on Drake, regardless of which brother it's about."

  "I'll dig around and see what I can find." She reached for the doorknob.

  Brady nodded and walked out the door she'd opened.

  Terri had to find Taggart and determine if he had some of that teak tool shipment.

  But first she had to speak to Nathan. She had questions for him. What she did about him after that depended on his answers.

  Putting herself on the line was one thing.

  She couldn't allow a vigilante to put innocent citizens at risk.

  Terri plopped down at her desk. Her car keys and cell phone sat on top of a stack of files with a note from the mechanic saying he figured she was looking for the phone and the car was ready. She flipped the phone open that—yay!—appeared to function. The voicemail was filled with one terse message after another from Nathan, then one from Grandma, who had called to say she was feeling a little under the weather and might come home early, but not to worry. She hoped Terri was doing something besides working all night.

  If Grandma only knew.

  That call had come through over an hour ago. She wished Grandma had called the house or the station. Grandma had both numbers. Terri tried her grandmother's cell number and got her voicemail. She shouldn't stress. Her grandmother was with friends who all had Terri's number, but that didn't stop her from worrying. She replayed Nathan's messages. He never said more than six words and left no name, but she heard his worry.

  He didn't act like a killer or sound like one.

  But she'd been wrong before, and this time the consequences could be deadly.

  * * *

  Duff couldn't ignore the buzzing phone any longer. That Fra Bacchus chose to call instead of text message meant he was upset. Duff answered, "Yes, sir."

  "You didn't report in."

  "I don't have anything to report yet, sir."

  "What happened?" The Fra slurred his words. Lunch-time, which meant bottle number two for the day;

  "The person I was trying to get an appointment with did not show." Where had the Mitchell woman gone last night? Duff had driven to her house, the container, then the precinct, where her car was parked. A mechanic showed up to tinker with the car for a bit, then left it with the hood up.

  "All night?" Fra Bacchus's snarly tone raked across Duff's nerves.

  "The person had car trouble and was stranded at work all night." Not exactly the truth. Duff had waited for her to leave. Mitchell must have gone home without her car, because she walked up to the precinct today. Someone had dropped her in the area. The mechanic returned this morning to finish whatever he started last night, but Duff had taken advantage of the hood being up to do a little work of his own while the car was unlocked.

  "Our drop-dead time for this project nears," the Fra said.

  Duff smiled at the play on words. Drop dead. How apropos. "Not a problem. I did some work personally on her car that should expedite transmission of information. I still anticipate having the product by no later than tomorrow morning, as the client has been informed." He'd inserted a voice-activated transmitter that would pick up any conversation in the car.

  "You're sure you were clocked in all night."

  "All night," Duff answered with conviction. The Fra wouldn't understand. He couldn't fault Duff. If all the vials had been in the container yesterday, Duff would have been done with this task by now. The Fra had women at his fingertips. A man that old and pickled on wine had no idea the strain Duff had been under for the past two weeks.

  If Duff had picked up Mitchell first, he would have committed a worse transgression than a sin of the flesh; he'd have ended up having to explain an unnecessary death. As it was, he was calm after enjoying the little cherry playmate he'd met along Canal Street. His favorite hunting grounds.

  "Starting now, check in every four hours until this assignment is completed."

  Duff lifted a fist and shook it. Don't treat me like a child, dammit. He opened his fist and rubbed his head. "Yes, sir. Anything else, sir?"

  "Yes. The appointment you're trying to make has become necessary."

  Duff felt a surge of excitement. Necessary, as in a necessary death? "Yes, sir. I'll execute the contract," he answered in code.

  "Exactly," the Fra confirmed and hung up.

  Duff closed his eyes and leaned back, smiling. Bonus time. He pictured the young wholesome blonde from last night who had slid into the passenger seat of his rented Jaguar.

  Almost as easily as her nude body had slid over the tran
som of his boat four hours later, weighted with anchors tied to her neck and ankles. Crabs would clean the carcass in no time.

  Duff drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. The Mitchell woman had to know where the other two vials were. If she didn't know or refused to comply, Duff had an effective way of withdrawing information he felt sure would lead him to the vials.

  Then he'd leave her tucked away for a midnight morsel.

  * * *

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Nathan cranked the Javelin as soon as Terri stepped out of the precinct. He pulled into traffic, slowly following her until she was a block from the building, then moved up beside her at a cross street. Once she was settled in, he needed to ask her about the DEA agent "JB" referenced in Jamie's letter. He should have asked last night and would have if he'd been able to keep any blood in his brain around her. But the minute he'd put his hands on her, his mind had turned to mush.

  She walked in front of his hood, then swung around to the passenger side and climbed in. Her gait was stiff, but he didn't think her leg was to blame.

  "You okay?" he asked, then moved into the flow of traffic.

  "Fine."

  "Anything happen at work?"

  "Not really."

  Nathan checked the traffic behind him and gave her a minute to talk, but she wasn't saying a word. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing."

  Did this have to do with last night? He'd never been smooth when it came to the day-after discussions, which was why he should have avoided the night before. Like there was any chance he would have walked away from her last night.

  She turned to him, eyes worried over something. Hell, what had happened since she'd left him this morning?

  "Have you murdered anyone?" she asked.

  That was a tricky one. "What's your definition of 'murder'?"