He pushed off with his feet and sent his office chair whizzing across the room to a computer terminal and began typing. By the time Bree and Matthew joined him, several maps of the city were visible on his monitor screens.
“This one,” he said, pointing to a monitor on the far left, “is a map of all the places Sasha drove the car. If we overlay it with a city map,” he clicked a few keys and an image from another monitor aligned itself over the first map, “we can see exactly where she’s been.”
Nothing jumped out at Bree.
“Here’s where it gets interesting.” Grant drew their attention to a third image. “When I cross referenced her location, speed, time of day, ambient lighting of the area, and general satellite video data, you can see when, where, and how long she stopped.”
Bree leaned closer, peering at the maps and the images Grant directed them to. “But this…” she shook her head. “This is in the middle of nowhere. Or at least in farmland to the west and north of us…”
“…where there are no streetlights and no video cameras,” Tugood finished.
They looked at one another. “That’s how she’s transferring the tech and information,” they said, words stumbling over one another.
“Grant, can you get a better image of the area where she’s stopped from the satellites?”
“No can do, boss man. The satellite images are all composites. I won’t be able to see her car or pinpoint if another car is at the same location. Unless I could get black box info from the other car.”
Bree shook her head. “Not only would we need to know the driver, but the event recorder would need to be modified like it was for the Mustang.”
Tugood agreed. “We have a better idea of how, but not who or what.”
“These might help.” Bree pulled annotated copies of renal logs from the emporium and printed screenshots of Billy’s papers from her backpack. “Grant, can you cross reference data from the EDR with the dates the car was rented? See if the use patterns mirror Sasha’s stops?”
He shook his head, frowning at the packet of paper. “Really, dudette, paper? You couldn’t give me electronic files?”
“What can I say? I sometimes need to see it on paper before the patterns become clear.”
Grant pulled the stack to him. “The EDR usually gets wiped after each rental, but I’ll see if I can restore some files. Nothing electronic is ever really lost. If I get lucky, I might also be able to pull historic data from traffic cams and satellite images where they’re available.”
“Do what you can,” Matthew said. “Meanwhile, Bree and I will get back to Trader Jack’s after closing and see if we can get a look at that Mustang.”
Grant entered a few more keystrokes then put the monitors to sleep. “I’ve sent you both encrypted links to the data. Looks like you two have a date for tonight.” He gave Bree a once over. “Better change into your normal clothes unless you want the boss to get busted for dating underage women. Either way, have fun, kids!”
With a wave, he left.
Chapter 9
“Trader Jack’s closes late tonight,” Bree told Matthew. “How about I meet you around eleven when we’re sure everyone has left the building?”
“They don’t all race out the door at closing time?”
“Some, but when I went back after-hours last night, Billy was still there. Drunk off his feet.” She explained the situation and the information she’d been up late analyzing.
“Then we’ll go later.” Matthew checked the time. “Want to grab dinner and kick back for a while? You’ve earned it.”
“Sorry, I have plans.” Was it her imagination or did Matthew look disappointed? His expression—too fleeting and quickly hidden beneath a mask of indifference—made it impossible to be sure. Bree said good-bye and hurried to the locker room where she removed her Cat Holmes costume and makeup.
She arrived home, hair still damp from washing out the blonde streaks, just as James pulled into a space. She intercepted him before he reached the breezeway that connected the garage to the condo complex.
“Just getting back from work?” he asked, brushing a kiss across her cheek.
Bree nodded. “The days are longer than ever. Troy has me investigating a way to streamline our sample handling now that my teaching time is behind me.”
“Both of those are better than you traipsing around undercover.” He looked as if he would say more but held back. Instead he put an arm around her waist and drew her closer. “We could skip going out to dinner and stay in tonight,” he murmured.
Bree leaned into his warmth, soaking up the comfort he offered, not caring that their embrace would be recorded on the security cameras Tugood had insisted be installed in her condo complex.
“Much as I’d like that, I have to make an early night of it. I’ve got paperwork up to my elbows that needs to be handled. And you,” she kissed James on the cheek, “are a distraction.”
“I’ve learned that paperwork can almost always wait until tomorrow.” He gave her a hopeful smile.
“Maybe yours, but not mine. At least not this bit.”
James sighed audibly. “I know better than to ask about the details. Come on, then. Let’s not waste the minutes we have on sparring about your job.” He tugged her toward his car and opened the door, a sweet, old-fashioned gesture that warmed Bree’s heart.
“Since we’re on the clock, how about O’Malley’s Irish Pub? A bowl of coddled pork stew with soda bread and a stout ale sounds perfect for a chilly night.”
“You’re on, although I’ll stick with fish and chips and a soda.”
“And there goes my plan for plying you with drink to get you to change your mind. You’re a hard nut to crack.”
Something about his teasing made her restless. “I know I’ve been excessively busy these days, between traveling for work, and late nights. Even so, you really are a priority to me.”
He reached across the console and wrapped her chilled hand in his larger, warmer one. “I have plenty of experience with long days and unpredictable hours too. I just…worry. I’d feel better if I knew the trips and late nights were all for your science job,” he said, skating close to a topic she dreaded.
“I’m in offices, hotels, restaurants, and airports when I travel,” she said, giving him the truth but not the details. “None of those places qualify as dangerous.”
“But the terrorists, blackmailers, national security threats, and murderers you meet on the ground are dangerous.”
“You know what else is dangerous?” she asked, pulling her hand away. “Acid baths in metal etching plants. Vats of caustic used for chemical cleaning. Toxins that make up a chemist’s stock and trade. Liquid nitrogen for cooling analytical instruments can freeze off fingers or toes. Elemental sodium explodes in water. Toxic vapors cause immediate asphyxiation.”
She swiveled in the seat, aware his jaw clenched, and his knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “Yet I’m safe around those dangers because I trained for them. I’m aware of how to handle them. They are not safe for an amateur, but they can be for a professional.”
“And you are neither a professional crime fighter, nor a professional spy,” he shot back.
Stop playing dress-up to try to fit into his world. You look ridiculous. Sasha’s words echoed James’s sentiments. You’re a natural. Not only do you have good instincts, but you listen to them. Tugood’s praise soothed her battered pride.
“James, we agreed—”
“I agreed not to push too hard about you quitting the spy business. I didn’t agree not to push at all. And I couldn’t agree not to worry about you.” His hand sought hers again and she accepted it.
“Can you at least trust that I’m smart enough to seek help when I need it? And aware enough to assess dangerous situations?”
Silence greeted her as they drove the remaining blocks to the pub. Once James pulled into the parking lot, he spoke. “I trust that you think you ca
n handle situations. But our jobs are rife with examples of situations that go south in the blink of an eye.” He parked and killed the motor before turning to her.
“I suggest a new deal. If you agree to do self-defense and weapons training with me, including becoming certified for concealed carry of a handgun in the state, I’ll worry a little less.”
“In other words, prove to you I know what I’m doing?”
“Something like that.” He tilted his head, questioningly. “Indulge me?”
“Fair enough. Now, feed me and let’s talk about things we agree on.”
Bree broke her promise to herself and indulged in two bottles of hard cider at dinner. Enough to relax her without dulling her observational skills. As she and James lingered over Bailey’s Cheesecake, the conversation turned personal.
“Bree, you work almost nonstop. Ever since I met you, I’ve wondered. Aside from the times I tempt you away from your jobs, do you ever relax? What’s your idea of fun?”
She swirled a forkful of cheesecake through a pool of chocolate drizzle, considering. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a geek. My mother tried everything to get me to socialize, but I preferred books to people.” Bree shrugged and popped the chocolate covered treat into her mouth.
“Even geeks have their fun,” James insisted. “Did you compete in math Olympics? Debate team? Knowledge bowl trivia games?”
She shook her head.
“You’re evading the question.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “I remember from our first interviews that you were once a high school drama star.”
Bree swallowed and took a sip of herbal tea to clear her throat. “Calling me a star is overdoing it. I did—at my mother’s insistence—join the drama club and participate in some plays.”
“Care to give me a sample?”
“No. But I’ll admit that I love cooking and experimenting with recipes. That could be considered a hobby, even if it is science based.”
“So, drama, cooking…”
“Curling up with a good book and caring for my cat,” she finished for him.
“Oh yes. The orange monster you call Sherlock. The first day I brought him to you I thought he was going to destroy your condo.” He reached for her hand. “I’m glad he found a home with you.”
She curled her fingers in his. “He’s turned me into a cat person, although a fair amount of the credit goes to you. Your advice about him was perfect. How did you learn so much about caring for cats?”
He slid his gaze from hers, motioning for the check. “My grandmother had cats when I was a kid. I guess I learned from her.”
“What was she like? How about your mom and dad?”
“Not too different from anyone else’s, I suppose.” He busied himself with paying the check.
“Now who’s being evasive,” she asked softly.
“Given that you’ve said you need to make an early night of it, how about we open that can of worms at a later date?” He helped her into her coat and led the way out to the car, amusing her with stories from his early days on the police force. When they reached her condo, he walked her to the door and pulled her close.
His lips touched hers, warm, in contrast to the crisp fall cold clinging to his jacket. Together they explored one another until she leaned, breathless, against the door. “Keep that up and I won’t get any work done tonight.”
“Can’t have that,” he whispered against her lips before claiming another kiss. “So, what are your plans for tomorrow night?”
“Work—” Another kiss.
“—cooking, reading…” More kisses.
Bree pulled away, drawing in a deep breath.
“Cancel your plans for tomorrow,” James said, taking a step back. “You and I are going to get hot and sweaty together.”
She pictured it, imagining inviting him into her home rather than pushing him away.
“In the gym,” he added, throwing cold water on her simmering thoughts. “Your self-defense classes start tomorrow night.”
Bree pulled up security cam footage and watched James leave the complex, a spring in his step. Before entering his car, he turned, stared directly into the camera, and blew a kiss at it, as if he knew she was watching.
Torn between irritation and intrigue, she put down the phone and changed into black leggings and a black turtleneck tunic for her meeting with Matthew. Her camera necklace, boots, and a black travel vest with pockets for her phone, wallet, and a few other essentials completed the ensemble. She scraped her hair back into a high ponytail and left the condo.
After meeting Matthew at the Tech Ops center, they drove together to Trader Jack’s. “Did the date go well?” Matthew asked, his tone flat, his eyes on the road.
“Been keeping tabs on me through the condo security cameras again?”
He grinned. “No. But you just confirmed my shot in the dark. Gave up the intel like a rookie on day one.”
“In real life, not every interaction is a test, Matthew.”
“Maybe not in your life. In any case, this is work. We’re here to learn more about that Mustang.” He parked near the storage facility entrance and exited the car.
Bree followed, catching up to him as he opened the door. She leaned in close. “Quiet, just in case Billy’s around here.”
He nodded and together they crept through the showroom, dodging displays that loomed in the shadowy interior. Bree took his hand and slipped into the lead, guiding them down the interior hallway. Near the break room, a sound caused his hand to tighten on hers as he pulled her close to the wall.
“Green money! Green money!”
“That’s Scarlett,” Bree mouthed to him, “the parrot.” She listened intently. Hearing no other sounds, she peeked into the room. A half empty whiskey bottle and scattered gummy bears decorated a table’s surface. She pointed them out to Tugood.
“Careful,” he said, his voice tickling her ear. “He may still be here.”
Together, senses alert for any changes that would indicate a person, they crept to the darkened garage bay. “Looks like we’re in the clear,” Matthew said as he grabbed a chair and wedged it under the doorknob. “But just in case we get company, this should slow them down.”
Bree pulled a torchlight from her vest and flicked it on, sweeping the beam across the expanse. Several cars came into view. At the back of the line close to the drive-in entrance of the garage sat the Mustang. She put a hand on the hood as she approached. Cool. It had not been driven recently.
Beside her, Matthew withdrew something from his pocket and soon had the door open.
“How did you pick the lock that quickly?”
He chuckled. “Easy. I made a duplicate key from the one you gave me.” He reached inside. “Now to find the mechanism to release the trunk.”
Bree moved to the rear of the car and waited until she heard the lock disengage. She lifted the lid, trained her flashlight on the interior, and froze.
“Matthew,” she called, “no need to be so quiet.”
He joined her. “Looks like you found a body after all,” he said as they peered down at Billy Bandergas, huddled in the cramped trunk, his lifeless eyes staring at them.
Chapter 10
Blue and red lights flashed outside of the garage bay, bathing the night in color.
“Walk me through this one more time.” James O’Neil stared at Matthew and Bree, lips compressed into a tight line, no sign of the affectionate man she’d spent the evening with in sight. “Why were you opening the trunk of a car that contained a dead man?”
“I hired them.” Jack Trayder stepped into the light, hovering near Bree as if to protect her from questioning.
James flipped through a notebook. “And you would be…Jack Trayder, owner of Trader Jack’s Emporium?”
“Exactly. I hired Mr. Tugood and his team to investigate my employees. A type of Undercover Boss exercise to see what I’m doing right and what I can improve on.
I’m not exactly in a position to go undercover in my own company.”
“I suppose not.” James raked his gaze over Jack Trayder, assessing him. “Is that the only reason you hired them?”
“No, I also asked them to—” He stopped at O’Neil’s outstretched hand.
“We’ll want to talk to each of you privately,” James said. He motioned someone over—Bree recognized Officer Westerman from previous investigations—and engaged in a whispered conversation. The young officer disappeared briefly.
Soon Bree and Matthew, each in tow of a uniformed patrol officer were separated. Bree watched from the back of a patrol car as James himself led Jack Trayder away. She itched to investigate the scene, even though she’d done a quick job of it before the Plainville police arrived. The few samples she and Matthew had collected were stowed deep in the hidden pockets of her vest.
Minutes dragged by, feeling like hours, while Bree sat in the chilly car. Eventually, Matthew was led inside by another officer. If this had been a normal mission, she’d have an earpiece that let her at least hear what Matthew was saying. Or not.
James was probably savvy enough to check for such devices. Although…Bree activated her phone and opened an encrypted file. A grainy vision of James came into view, the angle making her guess Matthew’s hidden camera was embedded in his watch.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t read James’s lips well enough to determine what he was saying. An officer came into the room and spoke quietly to the detective. James slammed his fist into the table, the expletive on his lips clear even without sound.
Bree braced for the worst.
By the time Bree was escorted to a room for questioning, she ached to wrap her stiff, frozen fingers around something warm. James sat in the emporium’s break room, his shuttered gaze exuding disappointment. He held a hand up to stave off her greeting.
Bree crossed her arms and tucked her fingers in close to her body to warm them. At the sight of James’s face, the chill had shifted to her gut.
Studying Scarlett the Grey Page 6