When this case was done, when he left the task force, could she risk everything on a “maybe”? On the chance that this might work?
Allyson wanted to think she was brave, and in a lot of ways she was.
But about this?
She wasn’t so sure she had the courage to take that first step.
. . .
After they both finished eating, Sal rinsed their dishes and added them to the dishwasher. Seeing her yawn several times was what had clinched it. But he still didn’t like leaving her unprotected.
She ended up shooing him out the door with a smile.
But not a kiss.
Sal figured she might have been open to the concept. She was also wrung out emotionally and physically—a crazy couple of days. It would have been taking advantage to press for a goodbye kiss tonight.
He had made her promise to call him if she had a nightmare or any other problem.
Sal buckled up and turned, not in the direction of the member’s only campsite where he left his Airstream full time. Instead he turned toward downtown and the hotel where Kennowich was checked in.
Two warring thoughts vied for supremacy in his mind. One, could he change Allyson’s mind from a motorhome to his Airstream, pulled by his father’s truck, for her vacation. And two, what on earth was Kennowich doing in Seattle.
Sal wanted a future. And it was looking clearer that it might be happiest with Allyson in the picture. And a few kids running around on his land. That was the dream he wanted, not the life he lived on the road right now. Despite how he felt about the trailer and the ability to be mobile anytime, it was wearing on him that he was never “home.”
And though it would be painful to be back on his father’s land, it was also his land. That was the only place he wanted to raise a family.
Sal wanted to get back to it finally. He had thought that his restlessness was just about getting a break and going on vacation, or getting a job somewhere with the same feel as home. But it wasn’t. It was about being home. Permanently.
And maybe convincing Allyson to go with him.
Sal turned the corner onto the street where the hotel was located. Why was Kennowich here? The man’s business was located in San Francisco, and all over. But not Seattle. And yet, Vanessa had come here. Half his security force was on the run.
Had Kennowich heard that Vanessa showed up here—on the run from him supposedly—and followed in order to retrieve her? Or had he come here for some other, probably nefarious, reason? It was a bold move. And would make it plainer to those surveilling him if he committed an illegal act. The man was most likely here to oversee the sale of those stolen guns.
The only reason the task force thought an operation was in play was because Vanessa had told them about it. But she’d been playing them. So was there even a supposed threat, one they needed to stop? Or were the robberies something else entirely?
It was way too tempting to go by the hotel and see for himself that Kennowich was really there.
But thinking about Allyson, and what might happen in their future, was a good distraction. He couldn’t kill the man, had no cause to arrest him. Aside from walking up and asking straight out what he was up to—destroying the illusion of surprise—there wasn’t much Sal could do.
He wanted to be done with this case. Not that he also wanted to be done with the team, but there was a threat and he wanted it over with. In fact, if it wasn’t for the bulletproof glass in the office, one or more of them would no doubt already be dead.
But they weren’t, and the task force was going to take down Kennowich once and for all. They just needed to figure out what he’d done—or was about to do—that could give them the evidence they needed to make it stick. Could they tie him to Allyson’s kidnapping?
Sal pulled up on the opposite side of the street. He’d just put the car in park when his phone rang.
Talia calling.
He swiped to answer it.
“What are you doing?”
“Hello to you, too.”
“How was dinner?”
Sal shook his head, even though he was sitting in the car in the dark, and no one could see him.
She tried asking another question. “Is this really what you want?”
“To be sitting here, trying to do surveillance?”
“Is she what you want?”
Sal’s jaw tightened. “Did anyone ask you that about Mason?”
“You know what I mean. This woman is the reason you got hurt. She’s the reason you’re in lingering pain, and I just don’t think she’s the right choice for you. That’s all.”
“You don’t even know her, not really,” he said.
“I know enough.”
“Because of what Victoria told you?” he asked. “Ever think that might be a version she wants you to believe?”
“Why would she do that?”
“Why does Victoria do anything?”
“Look, I know she’s unorthodox—”
Sal barked a laugh devoid of humor. “There’s an understatement.”
“I just want you to...count the cost. That’s all.”
“The cost of being with Allyson?” He twisted in his seat to watch the front doors of the hotel. If he was going to be here, then he might as well actually do surveillance. “Do you think Mason did the same before he got into a relationship with you?”
“What—”
He wasn’t sure if he cut her off, or if she just didn’t have more to argue with him but he said, “You hacked the Secret Service office. You’re part of an off-book task force with a reputation for being apart from normal channels. Some might even say that we’re rogues. Mason is a straight-laced Secret Service agent on the fast track to a stellar career. Can he really afford to be linked with an NSA analyst tied up in too many shady things?”
She was quiet for a long time. Long enough he was worried she might be upset. It was hard to tell with women, especially when he couldn’t see their faces.
“What I want isn’t that dissimilar from the rest of the task force. Only I don’t need Allyson to join the team. I actually am looking at—” It was his turn to hesitate. “Retiring.”
She gasped.
“I want to go home. I want a family. And it’s still early yet, but I think I might want all that with Allyson. She’s a good woman. Someone with steady faith, who understands the stresses of this job and the toughness to weather them. Yet still manages a softness about her.”
“Wow.”
“I would imagine a lot of that is what Mason sees in you. What Josh sees in Dakota, and what Niall sees in Haley.”
He heard her inhale a hitched breath.
“Are you crying?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“You really like her.”
Sal said, “I’m happy for you. I’d like you to be happy for me, no matter what choice I make.”
He gave her some time to compose herself, then changed the subject back to work. “Is Kennowich even in the hotel right now?”
“GPS on his phone says so.”
“Do I want to know where you got that information?”
She didn’t answer that question, and instead said, “Do you want backup? No one else is close by, but I can call someone and get them there to be your number two if you want.”
“It’s fine. I just want to get a feel for the guy.” Unless the situation escalates. “I’d like to see what kind of man this is who seems to be fixated on our team enough to send a long-lost woman on his behalf.”
“And a drone.”
“Yep.”
She said, “I know what kind of man this is. We all do because we’ve experienced it firsthand.”
“You most of all. That’s why I’m the one here.”
He was going to make this better. Not just for her, but for the rest of them. For the fear and pain they’d been through over the past few weeks…months. As Sal’s last case with the task force, he was going to ensure this case they were building agai
nst Kennowich brought down the full weight of the law on his shoulders. No way would Sal allow him to get away with what he’d done, and all the people he had hurt.
The front doors of the hotel slid open and Kennowich sauntered out like it was two in the afternoon.
Traffic sped past between them, and Sal lost sight of him for a second. When he got an unobstructed view again, Kennowich had a woman beside him. Her back was to Sal, but she was slender. Blonde hair tied up in a bun.
Kennowich spoke to her, then the woman turned to leave and Sal saw her face.
It was Victoria.
Chapter 18
“Thank you for coming.” The FBI agent had a soft smile, flanked by laugh lines. Probably from time spent with his grandchildren. “I’m Special Agent Miller.”
She shook his hand. “Sanchez.”
As he turned to lead the way, Allyson saw a slight limp in his gait. He glanced back over his shoulder. “If you’ll come with me. This won’t take long.”
She followed him to the conference room where they were going to take her statement about why her phone was found in the rental van. The order to report this morning to this specific agent had been in her email inbox when she woke up.
She hadn’t even had time to get a new phone, so she brought her laptop here with her just in case she got the chance to check in.
Miller tugged out a high-backed, leather-looking chair, then took another. She sat, and he placed a file on the table as he did the same. On top was a plastic evidence bag.
While he got settled, she said, “Is there any update on Assistant Director Welvern?”
Miller’s boss had been shot a matter of days ago, outside Talia and Haley’s apartment. Allyson didn’t recall if she’d heard how bad it was, but the man had been in the hospital for longer than she’d have thought he’d be if it wasn’t serious.
It was clearly serious.
“We’re anticipating his recovery.” Miller smiled, polite but the lack of warmth was evident. What was that about?
Before she could respond he slid the evidence bag across the table and turned on a recording device that he set between them. “Agent Sanchez, can you please confirm whether or not this is your phone?”
“Yes. That’s mine.” She motioned to it. “May I?”
When he nodded, she touched the screen. It illuminated her lock-screen image, a tent in the woods under the Northern Lights.
Now that she looked at it, she had to wonder whys she’d chosen that picture. She’d never been camping. As a kid, they’d always stayed in her dad’s cabin. Was it just the lure of something that sounded restful, peaceful, or beautiful when the rest of her life hadn’t been? She’d been drawn to the idea of that level of freedom, certainly. Like renting a motorhome and just…driving. Of course she’d have to stick to the contracted number of miles so as to not get charged extra for going too far.
“That’s your phone?”
She nodded.
“For the recording, please.”
“Yes, that’s my phone.”
And she had more to ponder later, when she was back at home and not so exhausted this time.
She wanted peace. She wanted to love and be loved, probably more than anything else right now. Maybe even more than her career.
She’d been going through the motions for years, waiting for life to happen to her. Waiting for Vanessa to show up again. Waiting for a relationship to come along.
Maybe she needed to go out and get what she wanted. To seize that day, and the rest of it.
The rest of her life.
“This cell phone was found in the cab of a van stolen from a chain rental lot. It was used to commit a robbery that appears to be one in a string of several.” He looked up from his files. “Any idea how that could be?”
Allyson explained the whole story about Vanessa and the kidnapping, the task force’s investigation into Kennowich. “The last time I had my phone, that I’m aware of, is at the park. Right before I was stunned and thrown in a van. As far as I can tell there are two explanations: Either the men who kidnapped me are also the gun store thieves, or I dropped my phone in the park and the thief somehow found it and then left it in the van.”
“We’ll come back to that in a minute.” Miller made a note in his file. “Who is able to corroborate your statement about the kidnapping?”
A dead woman, for one. For two, “The agents of the Northwest Counter-Terrorism Task Force. And the FBI agents who showed up at the end, after Dakota was shot at.”
Miller should be able to see something had happened to her. There were red marks on her wrists, and a host of other visible bruising. Why did her story need to be corroborated? “The agents that showed up at the house are out looking for the shooter who killed Vanessa, right?”
“I’d have to look into that.” He pulled his phone over and typed on the screen, asking her for the address. She gave him as much detail as she remembered about the location. How would she know what street it was on without going online to that Home’s For Sale website and looking up the address like she looked up anyone’s address?
Allyson blew out a breath and tried to rein in her thoughts, and her frustration. “The full report should be with the task force.”
“Let’s table discussion about this kidnapping for a second in order to get back to the robberies.” Miller sat back in his chair. “Your team at the ATF is investigating these incidents?”
She nodded, then remembered the recording. “Yes. Are they agents from this office who showed up at the house where I was held?”
He blinked, a blank look. “I’m not aware of that. This is a substantially-sized FBI office.”
“Okay.” What was she supposed to say to that? “All of this is tied together. The robberies, Kennowich, and Vanessa.”
Maybe it was up to her to figure it out. But how could she do that, when they hadn’t any luck catching Kennowich doing something illegal? Could they uncover who was behind the drone attack? Maybe charges could be brought for that.
Allyson continued, “If you’d like confirmation, I’m sure Victoria Bramlyn could answer any further questions you might have.”
Miller knew who she was, judging by his reaction. “I’ve always wondered why a state department director who doesn’t work in any of the visible channels is the head of a task force.”
Allyson shrugged. “I have no idea how that came about. Maybe she can tell you.”
“A little above my pay grade, I’m afraid.”
She’d thought their two offices were interlinked more than this—that they worked together often. Was this not the case? She and Sal had met fake FBI agents, and now here was one with such a singular focus that he had no idea what was going on outside of that. Maybe he really only needed her statement, and nothing else would come of this.
“It’s all connected.”
“All I know,” Miller said, “is that the four robberies we’ve been asked to investigate are connected.”
“Four?”
“And now they involve you.”
Four? That is the first she was hearing of there being four robberies. Through the window she spotted Sal, standing, talking to another of the agents.
“Special Agent Sanchez!”
She was already out the door and halfway to him when she heard Miller scramble to follow. “There were four robberies?”
Sal cut off what he was saying to the agent and turned to her. “What?”
“Gun store robberies.” She wasn’t going to repeat herself anymore. Then she caught the look on his face. “What is it?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
Sal and the other FBI agent walked off, heading to Welvern’s office where the door and blinds were both closed.
Something was going on, but still she couldn’t help wonder if she’d come on too strongly. After all, she basically insinuated she’d follow him to Wyoming.
She hadn’t changed her mind, but did he feel the same? She was ready for more than just a
simple kiss and dreaming—separately—about their futures.
. . .
Sal couldn’t even think about Allyson or all she was going through right now. He wanted to help, but not since he’d seen Victoria shake that guy’s hand. The memory of his boss with Kennowich was burned in his brain.
Sal asked the FBI agent about Welvern and how he was doing.
“What is up with you guys asking about him?”
“He’s a good guy, and the task force was there when he got hurt.”
“That’s right.” The agent nodded.
Sal didn’t tell the acting assistant director that Welvern had done them a lot of favors the past few months. Welvern had backed them up plenty of times. Not to mention that he clearly had something more than a friendship going on with Victoria.
But right now Welvern was in the hospital, and Victoria was shaking the hand of the man they were trying to catch.
The acting assistant director took Sal’s statement about the kidnapping and what he knew about Allyson’s phone having been found in the van. A few minutes later the agent had him pause. “Clarify for me how the NSA agent on your task force was able to ascertain this man’s connection to the kidnappers.” He leaned back in his chair. “After all, the man was in a hotel room. Its sheer luck that had him leaving there in his truck in time for you to follow him to the same house where Special Agent Sanchez was being held.”
Sal shrugged. “I prefer to call it providence.”
“Does that happen to you a lot?”
He stayed quiet for a minute. It wasn’t like he manufactured leads out of nowhere, and he wasn’t spinning a tale. “There’s a reason I was in my car doing surveillance while Talia was at the office on her computer. I just don’t understand all that stuff. She’s tried to explain how it works, but I’d need a degree to grasp it.” He shrugged. “I’m not wired that way.”
“US Marshals, in my experience, have their own individual skill sets. It’s what characterizes that agency.”
Sal nodded, pretty sure that might have been a compliment.
“And I’ve also found they don’t readily admit to having the wool pulled over their eyes.”
Fourth Day Page 15