Sinister Secrets

by Amanda McKinney

  He interlinked his fingers with hers.

  “Sorry…” his voice was soft, “It’s been a while.”

  Her sleepy eyes widened as she turned her head to face him. “Sorry? Noah… that was incredible.”

  A smile crossed his lips. “Was?” He rolled to her, inches from her face. “We’re not done.”

  She smiled as he kissed her, and then did it all over again, slowly, taking his time to explore and please every inch of her body until she came again.

  And again.

  Beep, beep.

  Noah lifted his head off the pillow.

  “Is that yours or mine?” She whispered.

  “Mine.”

  “Get it. It could be about Joel.”

  She glanced at the clock—7:27 p.m.

  He kissed her forehead, lifted out of bed and answered his phone. “Fox here.” She listened to his footsteps fade into the kitchen.

  Despite her body feeling like a wet washcloth, she got out of bed, grabbed her silk robe and padded to the kitchen. The dim light washed over his naked body, and warmth spread into her stomach.

  God, he was… everything.

  Sensing her, he turned, a soft smile quickly crossed his face, then fell again. He pulled the phone from his ear and turned on the speaker. She instantly recognized the voice on the other end.

  “ …Max, here at Graves Laboratory. Did I catch you at a good time?”

  He glanced at her; another quick smile. “Yes, just barely. Do you have news?”

  “Yes, three things. First, we got the tox back on Joel, and it was clean.”

  “Figured as much.”

  “I know you did. Second,” he paused. “Wu found traces of latex on his hands.”

  Her eyebrows tipped up as Noah glanced at her.

  Max continued, “And it’s important to note, whether it’s related or unrelated, we’ve started the autopsy on Misti Seager and found the same powder on her nose, mouth, and neck.”

  “Powder from latex gloves?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Noah clenched his jaw as he looked out the window, now black with night.

  “Thirdly, and perhaps most interesting, Wu took another pass over Joel’s body after you left this morning and found traces of something written on his hand.”

  “Something written on his hand?”

  “Well, what was left of the ink, at least. He’d either washed his hands or it washed away in the rain. Probably the latter.”

  “What did it say?”

  “You have a pen and paper ready?”

  Fiona quickly grabbed both from a drawer and set them down in front of him.

  “I’m ready.”

  “Like I said, it was extremely faded, but we believe we were able to clearly identify each letter and number. It was: KEY363648N935680W”

  Noah repeated as he scribbled the numbers and letters down.

  “Yes, that’s right,” Max confirmed.

  “Any way to tell how long the ink had been on his skin?”

  “Very recently. According to Wu, pen ink fades quickly from the skin and is untraceable once it does. It would have been not long before he expired.”

  “Does Misti have any ink on her body?”

  “Not that he could see initially, but her autopsy isn’t completed yet. I’ll let you know as soon as it is.”

  “Thanks, Max.”

  “No problem.”

  Noah slid his phone on the counter and peered at the paper.

  “What the…” Fiona squinted. “K-E-Y. Do you think that literally means 'key'?”

  “Possibly. Key.” He muttered. “Key to what, though?”

  “Well, let’s think about what we know.” She began pacing. “Joel was dead broke and needed money, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So maybe a key to a safety deposit box? Maybe that’s an account number?”

  Noah bit his lip and slowly traced his finger over the paper. “Wait.” He picked up his cell phone and began typing. His eyebrows slowly lifted as he turned the phone to face her. “It’s not a bank account, it’s GPS coordinates.”

  She peered at the red dot on the map glowing from his phone.

  “The cemetery.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Fiona looked up from the cell phone in her hand. “Take a left here.”

  Noah clicked his high beams and turned onto a dirt road. He glanced up at the sky. Silver light beamed like a halo around the cloud covering the almost-full moon. The rain had finally moved on. His gaze shifted to the clock—8:04 p.m. They were over an hour late for the Senator’s bash. Not that he minded the delay much. Hell, he’d considered not even answering his phone as he laid next to Fiona’s naked body, limp with satisfaction, her beautiful eyes puffy, her lips extra pouty from kissing him into oblivion.

  She was already clouding his thoughts, and nothing broke his focus at work. Absolutely nothing... That is until he’d kissed Fiona Monreau, again, and felt the same gut-clenching, head-spinning feeling as when they’d kissed years earlier. Except, this time, one thing was different. No regret. No mistake. No bad decision. Actually, it felt like the first good decision he’d made in years.

  He glanced over at her. The glow from the radio washed over her face and his heart gave a little kick.

  Jesus Christ, what had he gotten himself into?

  “The cemetery should be just down here, on the right.”

  He shook the thoughts from his head and switched his focus from Fiona’s all-consuming beauty to work. Where it should be. “Why is this thing out in the middle of the woods?” He asked.

  “Just adding to the spooky factor.”

  “Devil’s Den M.O.”

  He took a curve in the road, the headlights cutting through the dark woods that surrounded them.

  “Stop.”

  He slowed. “What?”

  “Stop the car.”

  He hit the brakes. “What? Why?”

  She leaned forward, peering out the passenger window. “Back up.”

  He reversed, stopped, and before he could ask her what the hell was going on, she jumped out.

  “Hey! Fi.”

  He jogged up behind her as she stepped into the woods, wobbling on her high heels as they sank into the wet earth. After their mind-blowing sex, it had taken her three minutes to get ready, and when she’d walked out of the bathroom, he’d almost passed out. A curve-hugging black cocktail dress and black sky-high heels, underneath a buttery-soft black cashmere coat. All black, all classy, and all sexy.

  “What did you see?” He clicked on his cell and shone the light on the ground.

  “I think I saw…” She slowed as the outline of a car came into view—a white Lexus.

  Joel’s car.

  “That.”

  He pulled the gun from his hip and stepped ahead of her. “Hang back. Get behind me.”

  “Hey, you hang back. I’m the one who saw it,” she whispered back.

  He clenched his jaw and turned to her, a rush of protectiveness surprising him. “Fiona, stay back. Let me check it out. Stay here.” When she started to move with him, he gripped her arm. “I’m not asking, Fiona. I’m the one with the gun here. You left yours in the car. Stay here. Listen for anything, any movement.”

  She blew out a breath and rolled her eyes. Damn, the woman was stubborn.

  With his cell light in one hand, gun raised in the other, he stepped up to the car and looked in each window. He recognized the overnight bag and jacket in the backseat. Definitely Joel’s car. He slowly circled the vehicle and once he was certain there was no danger, he nodded Fiona to come over.

  “Empty?”

  He nodded. “Don’t touch the knob. We’ll get everything swiped.”

  He watched her analyze the scene as he dialed the station. She was laser-focused, and he had no doubt a damn good PI.

  “Lieutenant Stone here.”

  “It’s Noah Fox. I�
��ve got Joel Davis’s car next to the cemetery, in the woods.”

  “You’re sure it’s his?”

  “Yes. I’m requesting an officer until I can get it hauled off for analysis.”

  Fiona looked up and mouthed want me to call Graves?

  He nodded, and she stepped away and dialed.

  “No problem. I’ll send someone now.”

  Noah rattled off their exact location and hung up.

  “Max is sending a crew.” Fiona put her hands on her hips. “You didn’t tell Zander about coordinates on Joel’s arm.”

  “Not until I get a look first. Let’s go.”

  She turned like a ballerina, balancing on her tiptoes on the soggy ground.

  “Damn your shoes, Fi.”

  “Hey, these are four-hundred-dollar shoes.”

  “Oh, well, then they should be ideal for walking around a cemetery.” Women and their shoes, he thought.

  He walked a step behind her, sweeping the woods for movement every few seconds. He found his gaze drifting to her perfect ass where his hands had been an hour earlier. But instead of feeling lustful, nerves nagged at his stomach. His gut was screaming at him that shit was going to go down tonight, and dammit, he didn’t want Fiona caught up in a second of it.

  He opened the door for her, and as she slid in, he rested his forearms on the roof of the car and leaned in.

  “Listen, I know you’re a woman who can handle herself, but two people have been killed—one woman—and we’re about to go into the belly of the beast. I think it would be best—

  “Whoa.” Her eyebrow cocked defiantly. “Stop right there, Noah. First, I’m involved in this, too, and second, I can take care of myself. Been doing a pretty damn good job of it since Quantico. So, don’t you dare belittle me. I’m going.”

  The fire in her eyes made him want to throw her in the backseat and rip that skin-tight dress off her body. Instead, he leaned down and kissed her.

  She hesitated, so he kissed deeper until he felt the warmth of her tongue on his.

  “For the record,” her eyes sparkled as she pulled away. “That isn’t going to persuade me. I’m going.”

  “Not surprised.”

  He clenched his jaw and pushed the warning bells aside as he slid behind the driver’s seat and pulled onto the road.

  “Cemetery should be right up here.”

  As she said it, the headlights bounced off a small wooden sign that read: Devil’s Den Cemetery. Speckled with headstones and leafless trees, the large field glowed under the moonlight. Beyond the field, thick woods on all sides. Spooky was an understatement.

  He turned into the entrance. “Okay, where now?”

  “Alright, keep going straight… Keep going…" She guided him deeper and deeper into the cemetery. “Take a right here… and, stop. We’re here.”

  He cut the engine and peered over the hood at the handful of headstones.

  “Let’s take a look.”

  An eerie silence engulfed him as he stepped out of the car.

  Buttoning her coat, Fiona met him at the hood, the headlights stretching their shadowed silhouettes across the graves.

  “This is it. The exact coordinates.”

  He looked at the headstones in front of them. “I don’t recognize any of the names, do you?”

  She shook her head. “No, but Ace will.” She typed a text as Noah slowly circled the gray stones. “So we know Joel was here.”

  “And taken.”

  “Right.”

  “Key. K-E-Y…” he muttered, deep in thought. “Maybe he was picking one up, and this was the drop location. This was the meeting place. And he got killed either picking it up or dropping it back off.”

  She stopped, her eyes rounded. “It’s got to be the key to Shay and Misti’s house, Noah. Remember, there was no sign of a break-in.”

  That thought had already crossed his mind, but he’d pushed it aside hoping something else would replace it. He blew out a breath and shook his head, still doubting that his former friend was a cold-blooded killer.

  “You’re thinking with your emotional side. Look,” she stepped next to him. “Joel had latex on his hands, and Misti had traces on her nose, mouth and neck where she was strangled to death. He did it, Noah. He wore gloves for something, Noah. And we know he was here, at the cemetery for something. It makes sense.”

  She was right, on all counts.

  “Money makes people do crazy things, you said it yourself,” she continued.

  “Someone paid him to kill her.” He squared his shoulders and forced himself to think unemotionally and to accept the idea that Joel, very likely, could have killed Misti Seager.

  “He was a hitman.” Fiona said. “Think about it—he had the expertise, thanks to his training with the FBI, and he needed money. Quick cash. In and out.”

  He nodded. “So someone paid him, and killed him after he’d done the job to cover their tracks, and took the money back, probably.”

  “And whoever that person was, stole the key from Shay Swann, and dropped it here for Joel to pick up.”

  “A red car that purrs.”

  Fiona nodded just as her phone lit in her hand. “Ace ran the names.”

  Noah stepped over and read the text.

  Ran the names on the headstones, looked at relatives, surnames, etc. One stuck out - Susan Griffin, maiden name Norris. Senator Norris’s half-sister.

  Her mouth dropped as she looked up him. “Norris.”

  He narrowed his eyes, turned, and kneeled next to Susan Griffin’s headstone. Two small vases flanked each side, both filled with silk flowers—one packed to the gills, the other only a few flowers, each pushed to the side. He shook his head.

  “The key was dropped here.” He surged to his feet. “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Fiona punched in the address to Senator Norris’s home as Noah gunned it out of the cemetery.

  “Wow, it’s literally just down the road.”

  “Convenient.”

  “End of this road, hang a right.” She shook her head. “God, Noah, Senator Norris?”

  “A hitman, a hooker, and a politician.”

  “Money, sex, and men with a lot to lose.”

  They braked at a four-way stop. Two headlights bounced down the road ahead of them. Noah’s hand slid to the gun on the console.

  A black and white rolled to a stop beside them.

  The window rolled down. “Agent Fox.”

  “Officer Hunter. Zander send you out?”

  “Yep.” His gaze flickered to Fiona. “You’re sure it’s Joel’s car?”

  “Yes, but run the plates to be sure.”

  “Will do.” Caleb’s gaze shifted to the dark woods ahead. “What the hell was he doing out here?”

  “I’m figuring that out.”

  “You hauling the car to Graves?”

  Noah nodded. “They’ll be here soon. Hey, what do you know about Senator Norris?”

  “Other than the fact that he lives up the hill over there? Not much. Why?”

  “Stay close, will ya? Might need some backup.”

  Caleb’s eyebrows tipped up. “You got it. Never did like his policies, or the fact the son of a bitch cheated on my aunt.”

  “What?”

  “Long time ago. He’s a notorious womanizer. Fucker’s got an ego the size of Texas, and if I had to guess, not much else.”

  “Sounds like he’s embracing the stereotype.”

  Caleb snorted.

  “Stay close. Talk soon, brother.”

  “You got it.” He took one more glance at Fiona as the window rolled up.

  “He didn’t expect to see me with you,” she said as they turned and drove up the hill.

  Noah cast her a quick look. “Does that bother you?”

  “Does it bother you?”

  “Not in the least.” He said it matter-of-factly as if there wasn’t a question. “You?”

  She paused, nerves fluttering through her, and glanced at h
im. “No.” And with that answer, she realized that not only did it not bother her, she actually liked it. “Not at all.”

  He smiled, locking eyes with her for a moment, and the nerves faded to butterflies. Excited little butterflies.

  A bump in the road pulled her back to the moment. “There it is.” She pointed to the top of the hill.

  Expensive cars lined a freshly paved driveway that led to a brick mansion glowing with lights.

  Noah stopped at the ornate iron gate and pressed the intercom.

  The box crackled. “Norris house; how may I help you?”

  “Special Agent Fox and Agent Monreau.”

  A minute ticked by while the guard checked the list.

  “Yes.” The gate buzzed open. “Come on up, we’ll park your car for you, Special Agent Fox.”

  “Thank you.”

  Music and laughter floated through the air as they pulled up to the front door. A tuxedo opened her door. “Agent Monreau.”

  She nodded at the young man, fresh out of high school, with a little too much excitement in his eyes to be addressing an agent. She glanced around the expansive home. A colonial-style mansion with white columns and manicured bushes. Beautiful, and expensive.

  A lot to lose, indeed.

  Noah met Fiona at the front steps and opened his arm.

  She slid her arm through his, and keeping a casual expression, said, “We’ll split off. You take the party, I’ll take the house.”

  He smiled. “No, I’ll take the house, dear.”

  They nodded at a man and woman who had stepped outside to puff on their E-cigs, the man a little unsteady on his feet.

  “No,” she smiled a sugary sweet smile at him. “No one will notice a woman who’s had a bit too much to drink, looking for the bathroom. Trust me, I’ll get farther than you could.”

  His mouth clamped shut, and she knew she had him. She was right. He knew it.

  “Okay, we meet back here…” they stepped inside the foyer, where she could have parked her house. The party was hopping, with dozens of society’s best dressed to the nines in tuxedos and sparkling cocktail dresses, and waitresses passing out teeny-tiny finger foods on silver platters. Instrumental jazz hummed through the heavily perfumed home.