“Where’s the journal now?” Way asked. “Do you know?”
“My guess is the FBI has it. After Jeff’s murder, a new set of agents showed up. They specialized in law enforcement murders. They probably have everything related to Jeff’s investigation. Not that it’s helping, because his case is an absolute iceberg.”
An iceberg. Good old Mags. “Who do you think killed him?”
“No idea. I do have a theory.”
As he knew she would. “Which is?”
“Jeff was undercover, working a case that included a cigarette manufacturer and a distributor making millions from illegal sales. Jeff found a warehouse—”
Roni’s hands shot up. “Full disclosure. I told him about the warehouse and the cigarettes being stored there.”
Maggie gave her a look.
“Hey, I know,” Roni said. “But we agreed to work together, so I told him what I knew.” She grinned. “In the spirit of partnership.”
“You two are killing me. I can’t believe you kept all this from me.”
Whoa, now. He’d been to this party enough times to know he should redirect the conversation before big sister went into full lecture mode. “We’ll talk about that later. What’s your theory on Ambrose’s murder?”
She faced him again. “Easy. Someone figured out he was ATF. How his cover got blown, I don’t know, but I think that’s what happened. He knew where all those illegal cigarettes—ones that made the manufacturer and distributor millions—were stored. He also knew how the operation worked.”
“You think someone from the manufacturer or distributor killed him?”
“They’d be the obvious suspects.”
“Makes sense,” Way said. “Did the feds clear them?”
“Don’t know. The FBI doesn’t exactly keep me in the loop.”
The resentment in his sister’s tone wasn’t lost on him. She hated being excluded. And this? The murder of her friend? The lack of information had to be destroying her.
For the first time, the weight of Maggie’s job hit him. She didn’t only have to deal with ornery residents, she had federal agencies to contend with. The politics alone would be a total pain in the ass.
“The owners of the manufacturing plant and the distributor are still persons of interest,” Roni said.
Both Way and Maggie looked at her. “Your FBI buds?” Maggie asked.
Roni nodded. “They don’t tell me a lot, but I check in on the case.”
“Good to know. But we’re getting off track here. If the journal doesn’t have anything to do with Jeff’s murder, what are we talking about?”
Roni pointed at the folder. “We found a list of people Jeff made notes on. The pages are in order in there. Take a look at page four or five.”
Doing as she was told, Maggie set the folder on the table and flipped pages until she reached the list. “This one?”
Leaning in, Roni checked the page. “That’s it. ”
Maggie read the names, her eyes narrowing as she moved down the list. “Wait. Am I seeing this right?”
“You are,” Way said. “I think we found a kill list.”
* * *
Roni watched as Maggie rested both hands on the table and leaned in, her head dipping low for a second.
“This,” she said, “has been in those files the whole time?”
Way moved to her side—God help him if he tried that consoling thing. Maggie would skin him.
Women like Maggie—like Roni, too—didn’t want to be coddled when they thought they’d screwed up.
Look at that, he tucked his hands in his pockets.
Smart man.
“Mags,” he said, “we just hashed this thing out. Before this week, there’d be no reason for you to think that was a kill list. Hell, when we saw it, it took us a second to realize what we had.”
“He’s right, Maggie. What we have to do now is figure out who else has copies of this list.”
Maggie lifted her head. “They might be our killer. Stands to reason that it’s someone in law enforcement.”
“Could be. If all of Jeff’s files were turned over, it’s either someone who was on the task force or whoever has access at the ATF and FBI.”
Lord, the idea of a federal agent being a serial killer sat like cement in her stomach.
“The bullets,” Way said. “Whoever has this list also has access to the bullets.”
Roni jabbed a finger at him and rushed over to the poster-sized tear-away sticky notepad mounted on the far wall.
“Let’s break it down.”
She grabbed a marker from the bowl on top of the credenza, uncapped it, and went to work.
“We have the ATF.” She wrote the initials on the page, tore it off, and pasted it to the wall. “Next is FBI.” She wrote it down and placed the page beside the ATF one.
“The task force,” Maggie added.
“And the CIA.” Her own damned agency.
It didn’t stop there either. As a former FBI agent and a task force member, her name could go on three of the four pages.
All around, this sucked.
“Put Harding and Quigley on the CIA list,” Way said. “And, shit, if we’re being brutal, add Clay Bartles.”
“Interesting,” Maggie said.
“I don’t want to go there, but he’s in the middle of this thing.”
Roni added Clay’s name. “And how do you plan on ruling him out?”
“No clue. I’ll deal with that next.” He gestured to the list. “We’ll finish this and see what we have.”
“Well, if we’re adding him, we need to add all of the science and development department.”
“And all the task force members,” Maggie added. “Along with anyone at the ATF and FBI who had access to Jeff’s notes. That’s a lot of people.”
Way walked to where Roni stood and leaned against the table, arms folded. “We’re getting too wide here, ladies. Focus on the tangibles.” He held up one finger. “Who saw or knew about Jeff’s notes and had access to my bullets.”
Maggie joined them at the end of the table. “He’s right.”
Roni tapped the page with the CIA names. “It’s got to be here, then. Karl, Don, and Clay all knew Jeff. They were at the barbecue when Don and Clay talked about Way the first time.”
“Stands to reason someone could have overheard the conversation,” Way said.
“Really? You think the two of them are going to sit amongst a group and have an open conversation about acid-filled bullets?”
“No. What I’m saying, smartass, is from what you’ve told me about that party, there were big shots there. Who’s to say Clay or Don didn’t tell someone else?”
“I’ll buy that,” Maggie said. “I was there, too. Between Roni and I, we can make a list of the people we knew.”
“Good.”
Roni made a humming noise. “It won’t be enough. This is high-level stuff. Some of the people there were above our pay grade.”
“Okay,” Way said. “We need the invite list.”
Ha. As if it were that easy. “His mother already gave us two boxes of files. Are we supposed to ask her for the invitation list now?”
“No. Not if we can help it anyway. How were you invited to this shindig?”
“What do you mean, how? He told us about it.”
Maggie snapped her fingers. “Yes. But he e-mailed an invitation so we’d have the particulars. Address, date, et cetera. It came from one of those online invitation sites. Oh, Waylon, I know where you’re going with this.”
He pulled his phone from his front pocket and tapped the screen.
Maggie stepped closer, peeking at the screen. “Who’re you calling?”
“Micki.”
“Oh, my God.”
“Sorry, Mags. You can leave if you want, but I’m about to break any number of federal laws.”
Maggie met Roni’s eye with a what-are-we-doing look.
Roni lifted a shoulder. “In for a penny…”
/> “You two. Killing me.”
“Good morning.” A woman’s voice filled the room by way of speakerphone.
“Hey, Mick.”
“Second time this week. Jonah’s going to have a fit when he sees how far ahead I’m getting.”
He grinned. “How do you know it’s not a social call?”
“I see you all the time at family events. How often do you call me for social reasons?”
“She’s got a point there.” Maggie said.
Not bothering with an argument, Way launched into his spiel. “Remember Jeff Ambrose?”
“Ambrose? Dead ATF guy, right?”
“That’s him. I think he’s involved with something.”
She responded with a resigned sigh. “Should I even ask?”
“For your purposes, it doesn’t matter. Maggie says he used one of those online invitation sites for a party he threw in July. I need the invite list.”
“Well, this just gets curiouser and curiouser. Got some bad men at this party or what?”
“We’re not sure. Maybe. Do you think you can get into his e-mail and figure out which online site he used for the invitations?”
“Waylon,” Micki drawled as if Way had leveled the most heinous insult.
“Sorry,” he said. “Dumb question.”
“Give me to the end of the day. My brother wants a draft of my new cyber warfare course by noon. And, since he’s my employer, I should probably oblige.”
“No problem. I have other calls to make.”
He disconnected and set the phone on the table. “While she’s doing that, I’ll see what I can dig up from Clay. Feel him out a little.”
“And,” Roni said, “we need to check the lot numbers on the capsules. We never did that last night.”
They’d been…busy.
Way waved her to the door. “Let’s go to my workshop. We’ll do that now.”
Maggie wandered back to where she’d left the folder on the table, flipped the cover closed, and held it up. “I’m calling the agent in charge of Jeff’s murder investigation. If they’re not aware of this list already, they need to be briefed.” She met Way’s eye. “Sorry, little brother. Your bullet fiasco is about to get leaked.”
* * *
Outside the sheriff’s office, morning sunshine sprayed quaint Main Street buildings with glimmering light. Steele Ridge’s epicenter held classic charm that lent itself to window-shopping and grabbing a coffee or a doughnut at the Mad Batter bakery.
Passing the bakery earlier, Roni had spied the sidewalk chalkboard with the anonymous quote warning her that trust didn’t come with a refill. Once it was gone, it would never come back.
Words to live by, for sure.
In many ways, Steele Ridge was totally foreign to Roni.
Her life had been spent in suburban sprawl with strip malls and big box stores less than a mile away.
This place?
It gave her…space. Room to breathe and think and slow down. Even while working.
Way headed to the driver’s side of his vehicle, so she paused on the sidewalk and glanced up at a bright blue sky.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’m good. Thinking about small-town living.”
“It’s different.”
“But nice.”
He shrugged. “If you want privacy, this isn’t the place. Everyone knows everyone’s business. But you also can’t go three feet without running into a friend.”
Considering she didn’t have many of those, there’d be an odd sort of comfort with such familiarity. “I think I’d like that. Not the nosiness, but the friendships.”
“Maybe you should visit more often.” He gifted her with a smile that sent a ribbon of heat fluttering from her core.
“Careful what you wish for, Waylon.”
A large black SUV made the turn from Main Street, heading straight for them and…shoot.
Quickly, she looked away. “This might be a problem,” she told Way. “I think this is Karl again.”
She checked her phone. The one she’d silenced to avoid distractions while rummaging through files. Three missed calls. All Karl.
“He’s looking for me,” she said.
“Why?”
“Probably because I haven’t been checking in regularly. Why don’t you head over to your place? I’ll get rid of him and walk back to Mrs. Tasky’s for my car. Meet you at your house in a few.”
“No.”
Um, pardon? Since when did anyone who wasn’t her boss tell her what to do?
“No?”
Way closed the car door and met her on the sidewalk. “I’m done avoiding these guys.”
Yeah, well, welcome to my world. But, considering Way was tops on the CIA’s suspect list, confronting Karl wouldn’t be wise. “No,” she said. “No. No. No.”
“Sorry, babe. This is my life they’re fucking with. I’m not about to lie down and let them set me up for murder.”
The SUV rolled to a stop and the rear passenger window slid down. As expected, Karl, all well-groomed and pocket square in place, eyed her.
“Get in.”
He kept his gaze on hers, avoiding Way.
“Quigley,” Way said.
Finally, the man faced him. What choice did he have?
“I’m not talking to you,” Karl said.
“Way,” Roni said, “please, let me handle this.”
Except Way headed straight for the vehicle, his strides long, determined, while Roni hustled beside him.
Whatever foolishness he was about to get into, she’d have to derail it.
But Way had a look about him. That locked jaw aggressiveness that gave her a blood rush. How she loved a man with an iron spine.
Bad, bad, bad. All of it. Getting fired for canoodling with her target would look great on her résumé.
Way pointed at Karl as he walked. “What are you doing to fix this mess?”
“Stop right there,” Karl said.
Roni set her hand on Way’s arm, which only drew her boss’s gaze. Yep, getting fired here.
Karl let out a snort and waved a dismissive hand. “Are you fucking kidding me? I send you out here to do a job and you’re getting cozy?”
“Watch it, Quigley,” Way said. “You talk to her with respect. She’s busting her ass for you people when you’ve fucked this whole thing up.”
“Sir?” Karl’s driver said, clearly wondering if he should intervene.
And, oh, Lord, this could get seriously, epically ugly. “Stand down,” Karl said to the driver. “I’m getting out. Pull over to the side and wait for me.”
Getting out?
Now the three of them would linger in the street having a chat?
The car door opened and Karl exited, leaving his suit jacket behind. He closed the door and the driver pulled forward to an open spot near the curb.
Karl pointed to the side of the building where they’d have at least a smattering of shelter from curious residents.
After this, half the town would be jawing about the suit in the black government vehicle.
If they only knew.
Roni and Way followed as Karl found shade on the side of the building. He crossed his arms, peering down at the much shorter Roni. “I gave you orders to check in.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but…”
“What?” He jerked his chin to Way. “How can you justify this…alliance? And, before you lie to me, you left your phone on last night.”
Oh, God. He knew.
When she didn’t respond, Karl snorted. “A tip for you? If you’re going to stay all night at the home of someone you’re investigating, shut your goddamn phone off. At least give us a challenge when it comes to tracking you.”
“Sir, it’s not…”
What? Not what he thought? The man hadn’t survived the rigors of Langley by being stupid.
Or foolish.
She cut a sideways glance at Way, then back to her boss. “The bullets. Way—Mr. Kingston—hasn
’t sold them. I’m convinced.”
“You’re convinced? How nice.”
Way mirrored Karl’s stance, folding his arms across his chest and taking one step closer, which only magnified the fact that he had an additional inch on the man. “Knock it off with the sarcasm, Quigley. You know as well as anyone I didn’t double-dip on this thing. Why would I do that?”
“Money.”
“Please. You’re the goddamn CIA. You know I don’t need money. Think about it. I have zero to gain by double-crossing the agency. You assholes would take me out in a second.”
A definite point there.
Unfazed by Way, Karl focused on Roni. “What do you have for me?”
“Sir?”
“Information. I sent you here to do a job. What do you have for me?”
“Someone tried to kill us last night.”
He cocked his head. “And?”
And? As if an attempted murder were a common occurrence.
“Someone tried to run us off the mountain.”
“You were together?”
“Yes, sir. I managed to get a copy of Roy Jackson’s autopsy report. The capsules inside the frangible bullets have lot numbers on them. We were headed to Mr. Kingston’s workshop to see if the numbers were close to the stash of capsules he has. The ones he used to make the samples for the agency.”
Before he could ask more questions, she continued. “A car ran us off the road. We managed to get to safety before the car crashed into Way’s motorcycle and pushed it off the side of the mountain.”
“Did you get the tag number on the car?”
“Yes. The plates were stolen from another vehicle.”
Karl swung his head to Way. “Did you recognize the driver, the car, anything?”
“No. Too dark.”
“Of course.” Karl huffed out a laugh, then pinned Roni with hard eyes. “I expected better from you.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Damned fool.”
Way stepped closer, getting way too close to Karl for Roni’s comfort. “Last warning, Quigley. Watch your tone.”
Ignoring Way, Karl shook his head. “This is a disaster. You came here with one job and now what? Your hormones are in a goddamned twist to the point that you can’t see what’s going on? He wants you to think someone tried to kill you last night. You think he didn’t set that up? That he’s not using you? Please.”
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