Target in Jeopardy

by Carla Cassidy

  “What is it you say happened that night, Special Agent Colton?” Humboldt asked. His boss’s continued formal use of his official title rather than his first name unsettled Nolan.

  He frowned and tilted his head in confusion. “I’d think that was pretty clear. Are you asking for scurrilous details? Because I have to say, sir, I find it crass of a man to kiss and tell.”

  Humboldt folded his hands on his desk. “Generally I do, too. But considering the allegations Special Agent O’Toole has made against you, I think you’d be wise to share your side of the events of that night.”

  A chill raced down Nolan’s spine. “Allegations?” He could barely choke the word out. His pulse thundered in his ears as he looked from one grim face to another. “Wh-what is she alleging?”

  “She claims you assaulted her.”

  Nolan’s blood froze, and he had the very real, very scary sense of his career, his reputation, slipping away like a wild mustang jerking the reins from his hands. He struggled for a breath. “What?”

  “Special Agent O’Toole came forward last week with claims that you made advances toward her over a period of several days while you two were on assignment. She claims she consistently rebuffed your advances and reminded you such behavior was both unprofessional and unwelcome by her.”

  Disbelief clogged Nolan’s throat. He made sputtering noises, but shock rendered him mute.

  “Believing she would need evidence of your behavior to substantiate her claim, she hid a camera to capture further incidents as proof.”

  More like she wanted to frame him. Nolan’s hands fisted. He’d been set up. But why?

  Humboldt tapped the file folder. “There are more if you’d like to see them, but they are much alike and tell the same story.”

  Nolan glanced at the incriminating picture again, noting this time that the shot showed him bowing Charlotte back, as if the aggressor, while her hands were against his chest as if pushing him away. Her head was turned as if avoiding his kiss instead of providing access to her slim neck and bared shoulder.

  Fighting for composure, Nolan said gruffly, “I’d like to see the other pictures, just the same.”

  His boss handed him the file.

  Beside Humboldt’s desk, the third man huffed irritably, but Nolan ignored him as he thumbed through the rest of the snapshots. Every one of the images gave the impression that Nolan had been an assailant and Charlotte his unwilling victim. Which was far from the truth. Missing from the file were dozens of other moments in which Charlotte had seduced him, pressured him, ravaged him. He saw now that she’d made a point of staging plenty of poses providing evidence to the contrary. But still he wondered, why?

  He and Charlotte had worked well together. He’d liked her—obviously—and thought they had a good professional and personal relationship. So what had made her turn on him? No. Not turn on him. That indicated a change of heart. For her to plant the camera, pose the pictures and pursue him with the fervor that she had—because she had, in fact, been the instigator, pushing him to violate his professional ethics for the one-night stand—this whole situation had been premeditated. Charlotte had used him. Betrayed him.

  “That bitch,” Nolan muttered under his breath.

  The third man puffed up and growled, “I’ll thank you not to speak that way about my wife.”

  Freshly stunned, Nolan jerked his gaze to the older man. “Your wife?”

  “You didn’t know?” Greenley asked.

  Nolan snorted, no longer caring about comportment or respect for his superiors. “Obviously not.”

  He was being railroaded with false charges, and he would defend himself with everything he had.

  Greenley turned up a palm. “Special Agent O’Toole married the senator five years ago.”

  “Six years ago,” the third man corrected.

  Nolan gave his head a small shake as if he’d heard wrong. “I’m sorry...the senator?”

  Humboldt nodded toward the man in question. “Yes. US Senator George Dell of Nebraska.”

  Holy crap. He’d slept with the wife of a US senator? And Charlotte had said nothing about a husband, and certainly not a husband with so much power.

  The bad vibe he’d had even before entering Humboldt’s office had cranked up by a factor of ten. A hundred.

  Nolan’s entire body tensed. Fire flashed through his veins. He thought his heart might pound right through his chest. A kaleidoscope of emotions battled for dominance as his brain numbly processed the accusation and ramifications. He had to lock his knees to keep his shaking legs under him. “Th-this is all, uh...a big misunderstanding.”

  “You’re denying her claims?” Humboldt asked.

  He jerked a stunned gaze to his boss. Humboldt had worked with him long enough to know Nolan’s character better than that. How could his boss even think he was capable of such a heinous thing?

  He threw the folder of photos back on Humboldt’s desk. “Hell, yes, I deny it! I’m not a sexual assailant!”

  The senator shoved to his feet, his hands balled. “So you’re calling my wife a liar?”

  Nolan reeled in the curt reply on his tongue at the last possible moment. He needed to be careful what he said, how he said it. He didn’t want his accusers to have any more rope to hang him with. As it was, defending himself from charges of sexual assault would be tricky at best.

  He struggled for a calm tone as he faced the senator, but a throbbing pulse pounded at his temples. “All I can tell you is that I didn’t know Charlotte was married, and what happened between us was not assault. I know you don’t want to hear it, but it was one hundred percent consensual.”

  Nolan stood his ground as the senator took two aggressive steps toward him, his teeth gritted and bared, his face florid. “You son of a—”

  Greenley caught the senator’s arm. “Sir, please. Have a seat.”

  Turning back to Humboldt, Nolan scrubbed a hand down his face. “Sir, you know me. You know these charges are preposterous. I would never...could never...”

  “My personal opinion doesn’t matter.” Humboldt’s expression was stern but apologetic. “A matter of this magnitude requires an internal investigation.”

  An investigation. Somehow knowing the incident would be explored gave Nolan a seed of hope. Surely the investigation would uncover the truth. He’d be exonerated and his name cleared, his reputation—

  “Until the investigation is complete, you’re hereby suspended without pay—”

  “What?” he shouted, gut-punched.

  “Effective immediately.” Humboldt stuck his hand out. “I need your badge and your service weapon.”

  Nolan gaped at his boss. This couldn’t be happening. His career was everything to him. This smear to his character and reputation, even if he was found innocent, would follow him forever.

  He cut a glance to Greenley, praying for reprieve, but met a stony countenance.

  “I swear I didn’t... I’d never...” He shook his head, and his chest contracted so hard he couldn’t catch his breath.

  Humboldt’s hand was still extended to him, but Nolan refused to let the senator, whose smug grin gnawed at Nolan, see him surrender his weapon.

  “This is bullshit!” Nolan turned on his heel and marched out of the office.

  He’d made it as far as the elevator when Humboldt caught up to him. “Nolan, wait!”

  Whirling around, he jabbed a finger toward his boss—ex-boss?—and growled, “You know I didn’t do what she’s accusing me of. I would never take advantage of a woman that way! Hell, man, you trusted me to drive your daughter to her apartment after the barbecue back in July!”

  “I have no choice,” Humboldt said, holding out his hand, palm up, again. “Damn it, Nolan. My hands are tied. It’s your word against hers, and she has incriminating photographs.”

  Seething, Nolan unfast
ened his holster and slapped his service weapon into his boss’s hand. “Yeah, well-selected photos. But where are the ones of the times in between the posed shots? She was all over me, Dean. It was her idea, and she took the lead, no matter what the pictures say.”

  “Your badge and ID.”

  Nolan groaned in frustration as he fished in his pocket for his credentials. “We’ve had this discussion before—how much we both abhor the sort of man who harasses and demeans women. God, it makes me sick to be lumped in the same category with scum like that!” He smacked his FBI shield and ID wallet into Humboldt’s hand. “I have no idea what’s behind all this. But, please, Dean, don’t let them railroad me. This has to be political or... I don’t know. But it’s a load of crap. I swear!”

  To his credit, Humboldt looked grief stricken as he shook his head. “Go home, Nolan. Use the time to...go fishing or see old friends.”

  He scoffed. “Fishing? That’s all you have for me?”

  His boss lifted a shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  Nolan jabbed the elevator button before deciding to take the stairs. He had adrenaline to burn off. Stalking away, he fisted his hands at his sides. The injustice clawed at him. After so many years working to get where he was within the Bureau, it had been snatched away in a heartbeat. And the best his boss had was “Go fishing or see old friends”?

  As he slammed through the stairwell door and descended the steps two at a time, an image came to him, fixed itself in his head. And he knew where he’d go until this nightmare was resolved.

  Whisperwood.

  Copyright © 2019 by Harlequin Books S.A.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Cold Case Manhunt by Jennifer Morey.

  Cold Case Manhunt

  by Jennifer Morey

  Chapter 1

  The soothing pendant lighting and upscale atmosphere of Pinocchio’s in Chesterville, West Virginia, didn’t cast its usual charm without Payton Everett. Sitting on a leather bistro chair with two of her other friends, Jaslene Chabot would never again joke about their Sex and the City bond. They were one woman short.

  Tatum Garvey stirred her speared olives in her martini glass. “I think it’s time to let her go,” Catherine Starr said.

  “I can’t let her go.” Jaslene missed Payton terribly and she couldn’t live with the torture of not knowing what had happened to her friend, a reporter for a local newspaper with ambitions, fiery red hair and green eyes. She loved reporting on community issues, ranging from Good Samaritans’ deeds to personal injustices.

  “I can’t, either,” Tatum said. A tall, stunning blonde, she’d started her own interior design business and had been featured in a popular home magazine. She dressed to match the part without trying. She had an eye for style. “But why haven’t the cops found her yet?”

  Payton had been missing for seven months.

  “You two do realize that Payton is dead,” Catherine said. “Right?”

  The wife of a successful insurance broker, she had two kids and was trying for a third. She wasn’t as tall as Tatum, but she had pretty dark hair and sparkling gray eyes. She had a way of stating what she thought without censor. While Jaslene took offense, she couldn’t dispute the possibility. She just didn’t want to face that yet.

  “You don’t know that for certain,” Jaslene said.

  “The detective told you the case had gone cold,” Catherine said.

  He’d called her to tell her, as if doing so would make her back off. “Yes. I’m going to go see him tomorrow.”

  “You’ve gone to see him a lot and it doesn’t seem to do any good.”

  Jaslene eyed Tatum in disgruntlement. No amount of pushing made the case move forward. She couldn’t will it to, either, which highly frustrated her. There weren’t any real leads. Payton’s car had been found at a park. Had she gone for a walk and something happened? She was not the type of person who would run off. Something had to have happened to her, something bad.

  “If there is no evidence, no detective alive can make it magically appear,” Catherine said.

  “So, you both are just going to...give up?” When both her friends didn’t respond, she grew incensed. “How do you think Payton would feel about that? Her closest friends throw up their hands and assume she’s dead and turn their backs and go on with their lives and forget all about her?”

  “That isn’t fair,” Tatum said. “We need to go on with our lives. That doesn’t mean we’ll forget about Payton. She’ll always be one of us.” She spread her hand palm up in a half circle from Jaslene to Catherine.

  “I will never give up.” Even Payton’s family had stopped looking. They waited for news from Jaslene, but they had lost hope.

  Catherine reached over and put her hand over Jaslene’s. “You were always the closest to her.”

  Jaslene slid her hand away, not understanding how Catherine and Tatum could give up so easily. She saw her friends from a different perspective. She had always thought they’d stick together. No matter what. Now that Payton was gone, that no longer applied. It was as though she had been the glue that held the four of them together.

  “Well.” Jaslene took out her wallet and put some cash on the table.

  “Jaslene,” Tatum protested. “We aren’t turning our backs. We have jobs and families. We can’t take a leave like you did and you have no one waiting for you at home.”

  She had taken a leave from her job as an environmental geologist and she was single, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t have done the same if she’d been in a relationship.

  Jaslene stood. “I suppose there’s no point in continuing these get-togethers.”

  “You’re being melodramatic,” Catherine said. “Of course we should keep meeting. It’s not like we aren’t still friends because Payton isn’t here anymore.”

  Jaslene leaned forward, putting her hand on the table. “I’m going to find Payton. Dead or alive.” She straightened. “You two don’t have to help.”

  “Jaslene...” Tatum protested.

  “Don’t go like this,” Catherine said.

  Jaslene turned and walked away.

  Neither Catherine nor Tatum tried to stop her. Maybe she was overreacting. But all she had to do was think of how Payton must have, or possibly still, suffered and she had no question in her mind. She would not, not ever, give up. If Payton was still alive, her friend would not want anyone to stop looking for her. And while she most likely was dead after being missing for so long, Jaslene had to know for certain. She would not quit until she did.

  She would make the police keep looking and she would push and push and push until they worked as hard as they could to find her. The police assumed she had been abducted somewhere in the park, but there had been no witnesses. No one had seen her there and no one had seen her arrive there.

  * * *

  “Chief wants to talk to you.”

  Calum Chelsey looked up to see the Chesterville chief of police’s assistant standing in front of him, with a cup of coffee.

  “What for?”

  “Didn’t say.” She turned and walked away. Alice was a prickly sort, tall and skinny with black-rimmed glasses and hair that was always in a tight, black ponytail. He’d heard she was married and had two kids and hoped she was a different person outside of work. Happier.

  He stood from his desk and walked to the chief’s office, knocking on the open door.

  Chief Moran waved him in. “I emailed you a new case.”

  Cal stopped before Moran’s desk. Great. Another case to add to his already full workload. He didn’t mind the amount of work; in fact, most of the cases would be easy to close.

  “The mayor wants it resolved as quickly as possible. You know Christopher McBride? He owns that coal-to-fuel plant south of town?”

  “I know the plant.”

  “His son was killed two nights ago. Shot af
ter leaving a bar. I’m putting you on the case. Only work this, no others.”

  “What about the missing person case?” That was the only case that interested him. In truth, he’d been feeling under-challenged in the department.

  “I’ve reassigned it.”

  That came as a shock to Cal, and a huge disappointment. Had the chief done so because it had gone cold the week after Payton had gone missing, or was it because the request came from the mayor? “Why me?”

  “You’re the best detective I have. I know I can count on you.”

  “Why is it so important?”

  “The mayor wants it solved ASAP.”

  Cal didn’t like that. He didn’t respect anyone who put a person’s social standing ahead of crime solving, ahead of victims. “In other words, this Christopher McBride thinks he’s more important than Payton Everett and her family?”

  The chief pointed at him. “Don’t start with me.”

  “I can work the Everett case, too.” Cal turned and would have left.

  Chief Moran said, “Only the McBride case.”

  This was what he hated about working for a police department: orders. That and lack of integrity. He’d voiced his honest opinions more than once and knew he’d brushed close to getting fired. He was never fired because he was one of the departments top detectives.

  Cal slowly faced the chief. He could not back down now. “I’m not going to stop investigating the Everett case.”

  The chief stopped shuffling papers on his desk and met Cal’s eyes squarely. “What’s that I just heard?”

  “Who’d you assign the case to?”

  “Walsh.”

  Walsh didn’t have the experience to take on a case like that. “Don’t bother. I can handle both the McBride and Everett cases.”

  “This isn’t about what you can and can’t handle, Chelsey.” The chief’s voice rose with his triggered temper. “This is about what the mayor wants. Now go get to work. I’ve already told McBride you were the best man for the case. He’s waiting to talk to you in the conference room.”