by Trish Loye
Mack came in behind him. She brushed her brown braid off her shoulder. “I should have a preliminary profile worked up in about thirty minutes.” She slid in front of another monitor and started tapping keys.
He looked at Edworthy, not wanting to hear the older man’s news.
“It’s bad,” the man said gruffly. “We have a security camera from the cemetery that shows her and Costa arguing. She draws a gun on him. It’s time stamped right before his death.”
Fuck. She’d been the last one to see Costa alive. “Did she shoot?”
“No. They argue and he walks away, off-camera. And then she follows.” Edworthy heaved a sigh. “There’s more. We’ve gone through her secure files from her CIA laptop. She had top-secret information on there. Information she shouldn’t have had, and some of the same information that had been leaked.” He paused. “I think she was selling secrets.”
No. Something in Ryan reared back and roared. Not Sutton. She wasn’t a traitor.
Edworthy scrubbed his face with one hand. “I should have seen this coming. She’s always been a bit of a loose cannon and ambitious. Maybe too ambitious. It’s been worse since her teammate’s death. She went off the radar for weeks. She could have been doing anything.” He shook his head. “I think she’s gone rogue.”
“We don’t know that,” Ryan said.
Edworthy raised his eyebrows. “Don’t kid yourself.”
“Are you sure those were her files?” He had to ask.
“I’m sorry. This is hard on all of us. It’s never good when one of our own turns.”
Ryan left the older man. He needed a moment to process.
Mack didn’t have anything for him yet, so Ryan used the time to grab some food for his team from the twenty-four-hour cafeteria on the main floor. He needed to get away from them and think, to ponder the woman he’d once thought he’d spend the rest of his life with.
Sutton had been fearless, smart, stubborn, and had a temper. But under the surface, she’d been kind and caring, with a dry wit that could always crack him up. For all of their adventures together, his best memories had been their time off together, lounging in bed, watching movies and eating Thai food. They’d always end up making love, sometimes fast and furious, but sometimes so slow it would drive them both wild. He’d never met anyone like her. She fit him perfectly.
What the hell had happened? Could Sutton really have changed so much?
His heart said no, but his mind...his mind kept going over the facts.
Sutton was tied to not one but two murder scenes.
Evidence of the leaks was on her laptop.
And if she was innocent, then why wasn’t she turning herself in?
Because someone had tried to blow her up.
That didn’t mean she was innocent; that just meant there was more than one player in this game. He couldn’t let his emotions run this op.
He carried the tray of food back to his HQ. Sandwiches, cookies, coffees. He laid them out on a spare desk. He grabbed a sandwich for himself and snagged the latest police reports to scan through. His team scrounged through the food. Mack snagged an extra sandwich and put it in front of Lexi. Those two worked well as a team. They came from different departments at the FBI, and couldn’t be more different from each other personality-wise, but they were thick as thieves.
Mack came over to his makeshift desk. “I’ve got a quick profile.”
“Tell me.”
“I’ll skip her background since you know it already, but it’s an easy profile.”
Ryan braced himself and acknowledged he wasn’t ready to hear about Sutton’s life without him. Had she married? Or worse—had she really turned traitor and sold state secrets?
“In short, she’s an ambitious and dedicated agent, one who has little life outside the agency. No family, except for her sister and a six-year-old niece. No husband or kids.”
He wasn’t sure whether he was happy or not to hear the news that she was alone. Was she content with just her job in her life?
Mack glanced at her tablet. “From what I can tell of her character,” she said, “she is extremely loyal to the point of it being a fault—there are many examples of her throwing herself into danger for one of her teammates.”
“Yes, that’s Sutton.” He shrugged. “That’s a quality of most special operators.”
Mack nodded. “True. On the whole, there’s nothing I can find that would indicate Sutton McRaven is anything but a brave woman dedicated to this country.”
Mack’s declaration reassured him, but he couldn’t afford to let his emotions rule. He remembered what Edworthy had said. “Are there any instances of her being a lone wolf, or any behavior that might have signaled her becoming a traitor?”
“A few. She’s a bit of a maverick, but there’s not been any indication that she would turn traitor and sell secrets. Though, she did go off-grid for the entire last month.” Mack tapped her tablet. “She had a standard psych interview done after her teammate’s death. Just before she went off-grid. It’s...interesting.”
“How so?”
“She says she’s going to chill out at home and just relax.”
“So?”
“She lied.”
Damn. He raised his brows. “How can you be so sure?”
Mack raised her brows back at him. “That’s my job.”
“She’s called the human lie detector at work,” Lexi called out. “People are actually scared of her.”
“They’re not scared of me.”
Lexi spun her chair to face them. “And now who’s lying?”
Ryan needed to break this up. “Tell me what you know, Mack.”
“Unfortunately, without talking to her, I don’t know much more than that. I know she lied about staying at home, but I don’t know what she did instead.”
He turned to Lexi. “Can you track down where she was in the last month?”
“I’m on it.”
He turned back to Mack. “In your opinion, what’s her next move?”
Mack stared at the ceiling for a moment. “She’d known the victim for a number of years. I believe they were friends. If she isn’t the murderer, then she’s trying to solve this crime.”
That sounded like the Sutton he knew. But maybe he hadn’t known her that well. “And if she is the murderer?”
“Then she’d be trying to get out of the country with the list.”
He would have to cover both cases. “Lexi, get into the security cameras for all the airports, train and bus stations. If she tries to flee the city, I want her stopped.”
He turned back to Mack. “I need you to figure out why Su—McRaven went to Rollins’s condo if not to kill him. What kind of communication had the two had in the last few weeks? If she isn’t the killer, then why did she pick that day to go there?”
“There were a number of calls from Rollins’s phone to McRaven’s over the past month, but it looked like none of them had been answered. And then nothing in the last week,” Lexi said. “Unless they were using burner phones for some reason.”
He stood.
“Where are you going?” Mack asked.
“I’m following a hunch.” And he prayed his hunch was right.
6
Sutton waited in the shadows of the alley across from Mark’s condo, watching the glow from the windows. A wind caressed her cheek with cold fingers. She shivered.
The lights in the condo went out. Thank goodness. She shifted her feet. It had been an hour since she’d gotten here. A police car sat out front, along with a crime scene van. Moments later, three people came out, carrying large toolbox-like containers and wearing coveralls. They got into the van and left. Shortly after, the police car left.
Sutton pulled out her lock pick set. The lock on the glass front door took her less than a minute. She took the stairs to the sixth floor. Yellow crime-scene tape crisscrossed Mark’s door, but it didn’t interfere when she picked the lock, or ducked under it to get inside. She shut the door behind her and pu
lled out her pen light.
She didn’t bother with gloves because, by the black dust coating a lot of the hard surfaces and doorknobs, the police had finished processing the scene for fingerprints. They’d probably already found hers here. Another set or two wouldn’t make a difference, especially because they wouldn’t look again.
A cursory walkthrough of the apartment revealed she was alone. Her rubber-soled boots were silent on the hardwood. She avoided looking at the tipped-over dining room chair in the living room. It made everything too real. She ached body, mind, and soul, and if she focused too hard on Mark’s murder, then she’d break. “And I can’t break yet. I’ve got shit to do.”
And now she was talking to herself.
She figured she had until daybreak before the cops or anyone came back. That gave her a solid four hours before she had to leave. Not that she planned on staying that long.
She started with the main living area. Mark had been in the CIA for fifteen years. He’d have somewhere secret to stash a weapon, important documents, and maybe even a go-bag. The hall closet revealed a small duffel packed with a spare set of clothes, spare ammo and magazines, an extra wallet with a credit card and about two hundred in cash. His go-bag.
But no weapon.
The safe in his bedroom closet was open and empty. That would be where he’d kept his everyday weapon.
He would probably hide anything important wherever he kept his backup weapon.
She wandered the apartment as she thought. Mark had loved puzzles. He also had nieces and nephews who sometimes came to visit. That meant that his backup weapon wouldn’t be readily accessible. She chewed her lip. But it would have to be accessible enough if he truly needed it.
She walked back into the bedroom and stared at his bed. Somewhere accessible but where a kid couldn’t get it. She played her penlight over both sides. Though made, the right was a bit more rumpled. She went to that side of the bed and ran her hand behind the headboard, under the bedframe and around the night table. The drawer held only a mystery book, reading glasses, and a few condoms.
She sat on the bed. Where was his hiding spot? Maybe she’d pegged Mark wrong and it was in the kitchen. She stood and the floor creaked under her weight. She glanced down. Most people put a carpet of some sort under their bed so they wouldn’t have to step on a cold, hard floor first thing. Mark had bare hardwood. She shifted her weight again. Another creak.
No way.
She dropped to her knees and held the flashlight in her teeth. She pressed all the boards closest to the bed. One shifted slightly. She shoved it hard and it popped up. She lifted it aside and smiled.
A Sig Sauer and ammo lay inside, along with a keyring with two keys, money, and a passport declaring Mark to be Canadian. She studied it. A fake, but a good one. At the bottom was a piece of paper with an address on it.
Was it his safe house? Mark had told her once that he had one. She’d thought it was paranoid and humorous at the time. But now she wondered what the man had been into. Would he have hidden something there? Had he had anything to do with the missing list of agents?
She couldn’t, wouldn’t believe it. Not until she had proof.
She put the address in her pack, along with the keys, but left the weapon and ammo, since she already had her Glock. She replaced the board with a hard shove.
She headed to the kitchen. “Please tell me you’ve got something good to eat, Mark.”
She opened the fridge. Some questionable Chinese food leftovers, some eggs, milk, and the usual. After opening a few more cupboards, she decided on a quick peanut butter and jam sandwich. It tasted like homework and after-school specials. She washed it down with milk.
After putting her dishes in the dishwasher already crowded with dirty dishes, she went to the bathroom. She closed the door and turned on the light.
Holy hell, she was a mess.
Soot from the explosion covered her face, her hair was a tangled mess, and her T-shirt was ripped. She’d have to borrow a sweater from Mark. She eyed the shower longingly but knew that was pushing it. How stupid would she be if the cops came back while she was showering?
She washed her face and hands, and dug through Mark’s drawers until she found a comb to unsnarl her hair before putting it back into a ponytail. She cleaned up the bathroom and switched off the light. Fed, clean, and mostly ready. She’d grab a sweater of Mark’s and then head to the address he’d given her. In his bedroom, she longed to lie on his bed and shut her eyes just for a moment. Instead, she went into his closet and shone her light onto the shelves there.
The one hoodie she saw would fit over her leather jacket. She instead grabbed a soft blue sweater. Big but not too thick. She could fit it under her jacket. And man, it was soft. She’d bet it was cashmere. Mark had liked the finer things. She shoved it in her pack and headed out.
As she strode through the living room, the front door swished open. Her heart leapt and then landed, ready for action. She dove against the wall, out of sight of the door. The hall light flicked on, blinding her. She ducked back into the bedroom just as someone entered the living room.
She weighed her options. She could hide, subdue the person and escape, or kill the person. But until she knew who it was, she couldn’t make that judgment call.
She peered through the crack between the door hinge and the wall.
Nothing. And no sound.
Whoever it was had gone silent.
She liked this less and less. There would be no hiding.
Dim light shone into the bedroom through the partly open doorway. The bedroom was large, with a big enough area between the bed and the en suite for an uninhibited fight.
She pulled out her gun. She didn’t want to shoot anyone but the killer. If it was some security guard or police officer, then she’d have a hell of a time later explaining why she’d pulled a weapon. But it couldn’t be helped.
With her weapon raised, she stepped away from the door and into open space.
The door burst open. Someone big and fast entered. Instinct stopped her from pulling the trigger. Then the gun was knocked from her hand.
She countered with a neck strike and an elbow to the head. A grunt of pain and then she was shoved. Hard. She flew back a few feet but kept her balance. Strong fucker.
Then she saw his silhouette.
“Ryan?”
“Did you have to hit me so hard, Sutton?”
“What the fuck, Ryan? I could have killed you. I had a gun!”
Even in the dim light, she saw his familiar, heart-breaking grin. “But you didn’t. You’re a good shot and you’ve got good instincts. You knew it was me.”
She grabbed her weapon off the floor and shoved it back into her shoulder holster. “You’re assuming a lot. I haven’t seen you in years.” And those years had been kind to Ryan. Even in the dim light from the hall, she could see that he looked almost exactly the same. And it made her yearn for things she couldn’t have. “What are you doing here?”
He kept his arms loose by his sides. “I’m here to bring you in.”
Options and exit strategies flew through her head, but she kept her face and breathing calm. “Why would you want to do that?”
Ryan eased himself back until he blocked the door. “It’s my job.”
She shifted her weight onto her toes. Nice and easy. She pretended she didn’t know he was leading the team that tracked her. “Since when? I thought you were a consultant.”
He shrugged and she couldn’t help but admire the breadth of those shoulders. “I’m also consulting for DHS.”
“I knew you wouldn’t like retirement.”
“Why don’t you make this easy, Sunshine? I know you’re innocent. I can help you.”
Her heart leapt at his words. And not just the fact that he believed she was innocent, but also at the use of the nickname only he had ever used. One she hadn’t heard in years.
No, her mind said. His job was to bring her in. He’d say anything to get her complia
nce.
“Two men are dead,” he said when she didn’t reply. “You were the last one seen with both. And now top-secret files have been found on your work laptop. It doesn’t look good, Sutton.”
Sutton took a step back. “What files were found on my laptop? What are you talking about?”
“Stolen military secrets.” He watched her carefully.
What the hell? “Someone must have put them there.”
He just nodded and she didn’t know whether he believed her or not, or whether he even cared.
“You need to come with me,” Ryan said. “I think you’re in over your head. Why don’t you let me help you figure this out?”
She didn’t say anything, but his offer seemed genuine.
“Come in with me.” He held out a hand. “We can get to the bottom of this.”
She just stared at him. She wanted to take his hand. She yearned to take his hand, to have him protect her, and be by her side again.
But he wouldn’t be by her side. He was no longer hers. He was someone else’s lover now. And he wouldn’t protect her. No. His job was to bring her in, and he’d do anything to accomplish his mission. Including lie to her.
“You’re working for DHS,” she said. “They think I’m the traitor and a killer. You know I’ll be buried in some cell on a black ops site until they find that list. And if they never find it, then I’ll never see the light of day again.”
“I won’t let that happen.” He seemed so earnest as he held out a hand to her. “Please, Sutton.”
She stepped back into a fighting stance.
His gaze flicked to her feet before he dropped his hand. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
She snorted. “Don’t you remember the last time we sparred?” She remembered. It had been glorious, and left the two of them hot, sweaty, and needing a private area. But they had been evenly matched. Where he relied on strength and skill, she relied on speed and sneaky moves. In a straight-out match, there was no way she could win. That’s why she always fought dirty.
Ryan sighed. “I was holding back, Sutton.”
She grinned, exhilarated for some reason. “So was I.”