by Hinze, Vicki
“Is that it, then?” Madison asked, her expression guarded and closed.
Della had no idea how she or any of the others felt about all that they’d heard. If nothing else, this group knew how to mask their reactions. “I think that’s everything.”
Madison looked down the long table between Della and Paul. “So you two knew about this—that you were being stalked for six weeks, Della—and you didn’t tell me?”
“I was seeking evidence.”
Mrs. Renault lifted her chin. “Which is why you’ve reviewed all your past cases.”
“Not all of them.”
“All you’ve worked on in the last six months,” Mrs. Renault guessed. “Gauging by the misshapen stacks of files in your office.”
Jimmy grunted. “That’s what the wreck in there is all about.”
“Back to the matter of nondisclosure.” Madison’s tone made it evident she wasn’t happy. “Not only have you put yourself in more jeopardy than is necessary, but you made the rest of us vulnerable. That’s what secrets like this one do. I can almost understand, but I don’t like it, and I don’t expect it to happen again. Understood?” When Della nodded, Madison continued. “Paul, you being a party to this stuns me—especially if you think Gary Crawford is the stalker.”
He made no move to defend himself.
“Wait.” Della held up her hand. “Paul didn’t know.” Kind of him to be willing to take being chewed out for her, but it was wrong. “I just told him tonight.”
From his expression, Grant Deaver found that interesting. Mrs. Renault hiked her left brow, a sign she wasn’t at all surprised, and Madison uttered her infamous “I see,” which meant, unfortunately, she really did.
“Understood.” Madison addressed Della. “We’ve got a grip on the problem. Let’s focus on a plan. You will work with a partner until the case is resolved. That’s not a recommendation, it’s a requirement.”
“That’ll be me.” Paul spoke up. “I know most about Crawford and she knows most about Dawson.”
And he wanted her close, to protect her. Della withheld a groan. Caring, touching and predictable, but he would be protective and that would slow her down.
“He’s been in her cottage, Madison,” Mrs. Renault reminded her.
Madison rocked in her seat. “You’ll stay with me.”
“No.” Della refused. “You’re on the water. It’s easier to attack and harder to defend.”
Deaver rubbed his jaw. “She’s right.”
“The ranch is safest,” Paul said.
“Totally inappropriate.” Mrs. Renault frowned.
“Not if I move into the barn apartment with Warny.” Everyone knew his uncle, so there was no need to explain he helped Paul at the ranch.
Madison glanced between the two, then landed on Mrs. Renault. “With the security upgrades Paul did after Utah, his ranch is the safest place in the state.”
Did everyone know about Paul and Maggie’s incident last year except Della? Apparently, since no one asked any questions—including Grant Deaver. He shared a very personal look with Madison that drew sparks. What was going on there? “Do you think this is necessary?”
Madison looked at Della. Her bright blue eyes were laced with regret. “Yes. You move into Paul’s, he moves in with Warny and you two work together at all times.”
“I want to run down the shipper on that package,” Della said.
“Fine.” Madison nodded, Mrs. Renault wrote and Jimmy frowned. “Jimmy, you canvass the neighborhood and see if anyone’s seen anything. Mrs. Renault, run Della’s ex, Jeff, and let’s rule him in or out. Grant, dig up whatever you can find on Leo Dawson and, Paul, you check with Maggie and see what her sources consider the latest on Gary Crawford. Let’s see if we can’t locate both men or at least see what they’ve been up to. Doc, for the time being, I’m reassigning Della’s active cases to you. Mrs. Renault, assist him, as you’re able. Review the files in case someone’s gone rogue and turned stalker.”
Della couldn’t believe it. “You’re yanking my cases?” She was the agency’s lead investigator. Routinely, she solved three times the cases anyone else did. “But I’m at a critical stage on Horner—the missing teen, and Panedia is—”
“Critical. They’re all critical, Della. But I am reassigning them for now. It’s best for the clients and for you.” Madison’s tone signaled she wouldn’t waver. “I want you focused a hundred percent on this situation until it’s resolved.”
“But I’ve already reviewed the cases. There’s nothing there.”
“Indulge us, Della,” Mrs. Renault said. “You’re a wonderful investigator, but unfamiliar eyes can be an asset. We’ll work them as hard as you do.”
Mrs. Renault wasn’t being sarcastic but diplomatic. It’d taken Della a while to figure that out about her. Her husband had been the base commander, which was one thing all the employees at Lost, Inc., had in common with Paul. At some point in their military careers, all of them had been stationed at the base, in some capacity. Mrs. Renault’s husband died at his desk and then General Talbot had taken over. She knew how to get things done quietly and efficiently, and she didn’t tolerate being thwarted.
Seeing the proverbial writing on the wall, Della nodded and admitted, if only to herself, that this was all good. Things were working out for the best. Just the thought of spending the night alone in the cottage, knowing her stalker had been there, touching her things...it gave her the creeps and scared her out of her skin.
“Good,” Madison said, seemingly as fresh as she’d been when the long night had started. She glanced at her watch. “I apologize for the lateness of the hour, but we do have one more urgent matter to discuss.”
Della had sensed it, and now she knew something wasn’t just off, but way off.
“There’s more?” Jimmy asked.
“I’m afraid so.” Madison touched a hand lightly to Mrs. Renault’s poised pen. “No notes on this one.”
Della cast Paul a worried look and saw it reflected back in his eyes. Never before had Madison told Mrs. Renault not to take notes. Typically she’d stop intermittently during a discussion and ask if she’d gotten everything.
Madison stood up and paced a short path between her chair and the window, covered in heavy green-velvet drapes. “As you know, General Talbot and Colonel Dayton were here tonight for the open house.”
The base commander and vice commander.
Doc rubbed at his neck. “Nothing odd in that.”
“Nothing at all, Ian,” Madison said. She rarely called him Doc. No one knew why, and no one else called him Ian. “But they weren’t here tonight as guests or for the festival. They were here on official business.”
“What official business?” Jimmy’s hand on the table curled into a fist. He still harbored a lot of anger against the military. If he and his buddy in Afghanistan had had the proper equipment, they both would have walked away alive. Instead, his friend had died.
“To quiz me about myself and all of you.” Madison glanced at Deaver, then at Jimmy, and settled her gaze on Paul. “Let me preface this by saying if you know anything at all, the time to tell me is now.”
“Anything at all about what?” Mrs. Renault asked.
Madison stilled. “There’s been a security breach at the Nest.”
* * *
He cut the wires to the security light that had flooded Lost, Inc.’s rear parking lot. Now the cars stood in shadows silhouetted by slivers of moonlight that penetrated the darkness through the trees. Pausing, he listened, but only music from the street festival muted by the brick building filled the air. He stabbed the tires of all the other vehicles in the lot, then quickly finished up his work on the one that most mattered, gathered his tools and hid behind an ancient oak and waited.
The message to the others hadn’t been planned, but when an unexpected opportunity arose, he happily seized it, and this opportunity was golden. Rather than convincing these people to butt out and mind their own business or pay the
consequences one by one, he could put out the message en masse.
Della would learn swiftly the penalty of running to her friends for help. She’d suffer the consequences of dragging them into her problems, and bear the guilt. His whole body quivered with anticipation. She’d also know that they couldn’t protect her. No one could. Not even her precious Paul.
And soon they’d all know no one could protect them, either.
THREE
“Figures.” Jimmy pounded the table with the heel of his hand. “They blow security and try to pin it on us.”
Doc swiveled in his seat to face Madison. “Did the commander blame us for the security breach?”
Paul clamped his jaw, and Della shot Madison a loaded glance. “Are we clear to discuss this?”
“Grant’s clearance was on par with the rest of us.” Madison’s expression sobered. “According to what General Talbot told me tonight, everyone in this room has worked at the Nest in his or her own area of expertise, Mrs. Renault aside. She obtained security clearances by executive order because her husband commanded it.”
Della had known they’d all been assigned to the base. She hadn’t known they’d all been assigned to the Nest, and she certainly hadn’t known about Mrs. Renault.
“This is not good.” Mrs. Renault paled. “There’s a reason the Nest is isolated.”
She was right about that. The Nest was plopped dead center in the middle of a wooded and abandoned bombing range. Homeland Security had built a military installation around it to conceal it, not that even those assigned to that base were privy to the workings going on at the Nest. It was a monstrous structure erected on over a hundred acres and yet it enjoyed the same anonymity as Area 51. Was that anonymity for the same reasons? Della wondered. But while she had protected the Nest’s computers from attack, the data generated, collected and stored there was encrypted and hidden even from her eyes. She had no idea what went on at the Nest. Did anyone else seated around the conference table? She didn’t think so, with maybe the exception of Paul.
He might know; he’d worked broader areas in intelligence circles than the rest of them. Jimmy wouldn’t know. He worked low-level maintenance, and certainly had never entered the core of the Nest. Madison was there as an analyst. Of what, Della had no idea, but it wasn’t likely that she’d ever seen the core of the Nest, either. Doc had treated patients, but only the people working there. No reason for him to visit the core of the Nest. And Mrs. Renault surely didn’t know what went on there. The former commander, John Renault, wouldn’t tell his wife anything classified, and she was too wise and principled to even ask. That left Grant Deaver. Did OSI special investigators have full facility access? Not to the computers—that much Della knew for certain. What about to the facility itself? From his sober expression, she’d guess no. Yet his hooded eyes had her leaning toward a maybe.
“Miss McKay?” Jimmy asked Madison. “How exactly was security breached?”
“Someone leaked word of the Nest to the media. A male reporter went to General Talbot seeking confirmation.”
“Tell me he didn’t get it.” Mrs. Renault seemed horrified at the prospect.
“Of course not, but his information was accurate.” Madison looked at Paul. “Is there any reason anyone outside those in the highest positions of Homeland Security should even know the Nest exists?”
“No,” Paul said. “When I left, Congress was unaware, and only three senior members in the administration were in the need-to-know loop.” He looked at Grant. “Is that still the case?”
“Last I heard—plus the head of the Armed Services Committee. He was brought in for budgetary considerations.”
Paul frowned. “Appropriations committee has to know. No one gets money without going through them.”
Madison hedged. “Not necessarily. There are discretionary funds available in Defense, in multiple intelligence agencies, and the administration also has latitude. Whether or not they were tapped in the Nest’s case, I have no idea. But it’s possible, and there are other revenue streams.”
Jimmy grunted. “So the commander issued a standard denial—to the reporter?”
“Of course.” Mrs. Renault, not Madison, answered. “He has no other choice.”
“So how did the reporter get this information?” Doc asked.
“No one knows, but General Talbot and Colonel Dayton suspect someone here leaked it.” Madison’s brow furrowed. “I have to ask. Did we?”
One by one, each of them denied involvement.
“You do grasp the severity of this situation, don’t you, Madison?” Mrs. Renault fingered her pen atop her notebook. “This exceeds a simple security breach. The consequences are far more grave.”
Paul asked the question on Della’s mind. “Why?”
“The Nest is a vital defense mechanism in our national security. There’s nothing that won’t be done to hide its existence from the public.”
“Why?” Madison frowned. “I was senior in analytics, and my access was limited. Did anyone here have total access?”
None did.
“What are they doing out there at the Nest?” Madison asked Mrs. Renault.
“Frankly, I don’t think they’re doing anything.” She lifted an elegant shoulder. “But I think they’re prepared to do everything.”
“What do you mean?” Della asked.
“I’ve pieced together snippets of conversations overheard for years, which leaves a lot of room for errors and misconceptions. But I don’t believe the Nest is active. I do believe it’s prepared to be activated if the need arises.”
“What kind of need?” Paul asked.
That question negated his knowing what was going on there.
Mrs. Renault shrugged. “That’s the billion-dollar question.”
“Grant,” Paul said. “You’re most current. What’s your take?”
“You’re not going to like it.” His expression turned grim. “If security’s been breached—and if a reporter has accurate information, it has been—then General Talbot needs someone specific to blame.”
Jimmy frowned. “How about he blames someone actually guilty?”
“Talbot’s up for a congressional appointment, and Colonel Dayton is positioned to take over Talbot’s current command here,” Grant said. “Both of them have a lot to lose. They will pinpoint blame on somebody.”
Paul grunted. “I almost agree. They’ll pinpoint blame on somebody not under their command. Otherwise, they’re accountable and their careers take a hit. Talbot won’t jeopardize his appointment, and Dayton certainly won’t jeopardize getting the command. He’s been after it since General Renault held the helm.”
Mrs. Renault nodded. “That’s true. John mentioned Dayton’s angling multiple times.”
Her distaste for Dayton came through loud and clear.
Grant nodded, laced his hands on the conference tabletop. “A breach by one of their own and they’ll never get the jobs, and they know it.”
“Even if they find the leak in their troops, they’ll deal with it privately and throw one of us under the bus.” Jimmy grumbled something unintelligible but bitter.
The gravity of their situation bore down on Della. “Any of us could be sacrificed.”
Paul nodded. “Our lives could be snatched away in a second.”
That caused a stir. They absorbed it and when they calmed down, Jimmy leaned forward, propping an elbow on the table. “Miss McKay, I am not going down so the commander and his vice get their dream jobs. None of us are. I understand security and clearances and all that, but somebody at this table has to know what goes on at the Nest. Why does it exist?”
“I don’t know, Jimmy. None of us knows. But I fear we may regret not having asked ourselves that question sooner.” Madison rubbed at her neck as if ridding it of a crick, and looked around the table. “It’s after two. Let’s go home, rest, think and then tackle this again in the morning.”
Mrs. Renault began shutting down the office. The catering staff ha
d all gone, and the downstairs looked normal again. Della and Paul left through the rear entrance hallway, and near its end, at the door to the street, she whispered to Paul, “Well, we know now why Madison brought Grant Deaver on board.”
“On board is a relevant term,” Paul said. “She doesn’t trust him.”
“No, but she is attracted to him.”
“Definitely. I’m guessing she hired him to prove we’re innocent.”
Right now Talbot and Dayton needed an outsider. The staff at Lost, Inc., was the perfect target. Any one of them would do. Della frowned. “So, why did Talbot issue her the warning?”
“Hoping to get us to turn on each other. That someone would expose someone else for anything they can tie the breach to that clears themselves.”
“Basic tactics, I take it.”
Paul nodded. “Elementary, but routinely effective.”
Della tapped her clutch against her hip. The night air was heavy, humid, cloying. “I hope Madison has no illusions. Whatever Grant learns, he’ll feed right back to Talbot or Dayton. Probably both.”
“She knows. Bringing him into her circle is risky, but it’s also smart. Deaver will report to Talbot that she’s trying to find the truth, and so are we.” Paul turned toward his SUV.
Della shot out an arm and blocked his path. “Stop.”
He did, his key fob in his hand. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s dark.” The rear parking lot was never dark. She fished out her phone, opened the flashlight app and aimed at the pole light overhead. The glass was intact. “Must be a burned-out bulb.” She lowered the beam. It flashed on a yellow concrete curb marker. “Your tires are flat.” A chill crept up her backbone. “All of them.”
Paul visually swept the lot. “Everyone’s are. Warn the others.” He started toward his SUV.
Dread dragged at Della’s stomach. “What are you doing?”
Paul shot her a worried look over his shoulder. “Dawson bombed your mailbox. I’m checking out the car.”
The others pushed the door open to exit the building. “Stay back!” Della herded them into a group just outside the back door.