Cold Light of Day

by Anderson, Toni

  Frazer nodded. “I’ll have to stay here.” He looked pissed.

  Matt hauled Scarlett into his arms and just held her for a few more moments protected by solid concrete as she shook from the aftereffects of the assassination.

  “Could they have been shooting at me?” she asked.

  “They might have been.”

  “A vest wouldn’t have been much good against that…” She nodded toward Dorokhov’s corpse and started to cry. Brain matter oozed onto the sidewalk.

  He hugged her closer as a chill ran through him. “Time to move.”

  Frazer was on his cell again. “Shot came from the National Art Gallery. Police have been dispatched. We need to get Scarlett back to the surveillance van and to safety.”

  Matt nodded. There was a lot of exposed ground between here and there, but chances were the shooter was long gone, assuming this wasn’t a suicide mission. He kept his body between Scarlett and the direction from where the shot had come. Frazer on her other side.

  “You could have filled me in on your plan,” said Matt angrily to his boss.

  “I didn’t have time.”

  “Nice dreads,” he muttered.

  His boss’s mouth curved. “The best I could come up with when every costume shop in North America was closed.” He scratched his head. “I think it has fleas.”

  They reached the white van. Regan and his team were huddled inside looking at monitors for a potential sniper. Matt caught a blanket that Regan tossed him, then wrapped it around Scarlett as he sat her on the step of the van.

  “It’s not over, is it?” Her eyes were red-rimmed from fatigue, but her brain was turning again. “You lied to me about Angel.”

  He stared at her. Held that bottomless brown gaze. Nodded. Her gaze drifted away from his, and he felt a little twist in his gut. “I needed you to stop trying to go to the guy. To let the professionals handle it.”

  “You treated me like a suspect.”

  “I treated you like a civilian.”

  “You treated me like a criminal,” she spat the words in his face.

  “Not true.” His voice got loud and suddenly he was yelling. “I don’t make love to suspects, and I don’t fall in love with criminals.” Shit. He looked around and realized everyone had stopped what they were doing and were watching the show. He dragged his hand through his hair, surprised he wasn’t bald from the stress of having this woman in his life. Thirty-six hours they’d known each other, and he was willing to sacrifice everything for her.

  She didn’t respond to his untimely declaration. Maybe she didn’t believe him, or maybe she just didn’t care. She was definitely in shock and considering what had just happened, he wasn’t surprised. He was being an ass.

  “How are we going to find Angel? What if she’s dead?”

  Guilt was a terrible thing. He put his hands on either side of her head and stared into her eyes, willing her to believe in him. “We’ll find her. I promise.”

  Regan stuck his head out the door. “We’re looking for her. We have people working on the metadata of both the image that was sent to Agent Lazlo of his mother, and the one of Angel LeMay that was sent to you. Both came from the same phone.”

  Police cruisers and cars were starting to fill up the Mall. It was still shadowy and dark. Just the glimmer of Christmas morning creeping into the sky. Frazer pulled off his wig and flung it on the ground before going to talk to the first responders.

  A car pulled up on Maryland. A silver Mercedes. Angel LeMay’s mother got out, eyes frantically searching the crowd until they found Scarlett.

  The woman started running toward them. Matt braced himself for anger, but the woman just opened her arms, and Scarlett went into them willingly. More willingly than she’d accepted his recent comfort.

  Because you lied to her, idiot, and then yelled your declaration of love like an insult.

  Mrs. LeMay stroked Scarlett’s hair, but looked at him. “Have you found her yet?” Her voice cracked.

  “No, ma’am. Not yet.”

  She blinked away tears. “I can’t find my husband. He went out an hour ago, said he was going to look for Angel as no one else seemed to be doing anything.” She swallowed noisily. “I have two FBI agents sitting uselessly in my house when they could be out scouring the streets.” She seemed to bite back her anger. “I’m taking Scarlett home with me.”

  Frazer shouted over to him. “Cops found the sniper over at NAG. Shot dead by the security guard. Let’s go.”

  Matt didn’t want to leave Scarlett, but he had a job to do. From the events of today alone there promised to be hours of debriefing and reports and God Almighty fallout to manage.

  Scarlett looked at him, eyes wide and beseeching. There would be plenty of questioning for her too, but she was dead on her feet. She should be safe enough at the LeMay’s with the FBI agents there.

  Matt nodded. He wanted to touch her. Kiss her. “Get a few hours’ sleep. You’ll need to talk to investigators.” He wanted to tell her he was sorry and that he loved her, but he’d already shouted it to the world. Shit. Maybe she wasn’t interested. Maybe she’d never forgive him.

  Mrs. LeMay kept her arm around Scarlett as she helped her back to the car. She tucked the blanket around Scarlett’s knees and then hurried around to the driver’s side. She slipped inside and drove quickly away.

  The sight of Scarlett leaving dug a crater in his chest. He turned away and went back to the van to grab Parker’s laptop and followed Frazer at a run across the Mall. It was time to find the real spy and shut the bastard down. Proving Richard Stone’s innocence might be his only way into Scarlett’s heart. It was certainly the only way he could get the man justice. He just hoped it was enough.

  * * *

  Scarlett had never felt so cold in her entire life. It was like her bones had been dipped in liquid Nitrogen.

  “I am s-s-sorry about Angel, Mrs. LeMay.” Her teeth chattered. “The FBI told me she’d been released. I never meant to get her inv-v-volved.”

  Angel’s mother’s lips tightened, but she nodded. “I know you didn’t. You were just trying to help your father.” She turned the heat up. They did a big loop around the Library of Congress, back onto Pennsylvania Avenue, headed north on 6th Street.

  Scarlett huddled deeper into the blanket. Last she’d heard, her dad had been stable. She hoped he was still okay. Maybe they were lying about that too? No. She understood why Matt had told her Angel was free. She’d have gone to Dorokhov and probably wound up dead. He’d saved her life too many times to doubt him. He’d been right to stop her. Right to lie.

  His lies had ironically helped start the process of redeeming her father, and rebuilding her faith in the system.

  She wasn’t all the way there yet, but at least some people in the FBI believed in her father and wanted the truth. She stopped shivering, the heater finally doing its job.

  The look on Matt’s face… She blinked as she realized he’d told her he loved her. Her throat got tight as emotion swelled. Matt Lazlo loved her. Her. The daughter of Richard Stone. It seemed too much to believe and yet, despite everything, she did believe him. She loved him back. It didn’t make any sense, was founded on instinct rather than logic, but instinct had been around for a lot longer than either of them, so who was she to argue?

  She sat up a little. She hadn’t told him. In fact she had been too traumatized to even acknowledge his words. What if he thought she wasn’t interested? What if he thought she’d just used him to get her father’s case reopened?

  She pulled out her cell phone.

  “What are you doing?” Mrs. LeMay asked.

  “Calling Matt. Agent Lazlo.”

  Mrs. LeMay pulled out her own cell and texted a message while driving. She left the cell in her lap.

  “Lazlo.” Matt answered straight away.

  “It’s Scarlett.”

  “You okay?” His voice was wary.

  “Yes, I mean, not completely.” She swallowed hard. “It isn’t ev
ery day you see a man’s head blown off.” The words brought the image sharply back to life and she pressed her hand across her mouth. “But I’m okay.”

  “Good. We found the shooter. Remember the other guy from the party?”

  Raminski? “Really?” What did that mean?

  “I can’t say any more right now.”

  “No, no of course not.” The fact he’d told her anything at all showed he trusted her. She’d been a fool. “I wanted to say sorry for what happened. I should have listened to you. Trusted you.” But some anger at his betrayal remained. “You should have trusted me. You shouldn’t have lied about something so important.” She swallowed. “Especially not after we…”

  There was a long pause. “Look, Scarlett, when this is over, you and I need to talk. Please don’t leave the LeMay residence.” He sounded clipped and tense. Was he regretting his earlier declaration of love?

  She opened her mouth to tell him how she felt, but lost her nerve. Maybe now wasn’t the time. “Find the real spy, Matt. For my father.”

  “I intend to.” He disconnected.

  Had she screwed that up too? Had she ruined the best thing to happen to her in years by acting impulsively and not trusting Matt to do his job?

  Mrs. LeMay turned right on New York Avenue.

  “Aren’t you going the wrong way?” Scarlett pointed out gently.

  Mrs. LeMay blinked at her. “I want to check the cemetery. Adam’s mother is buried there and we go every Christmas Eve normally. I thought he might have gone there…” Her voice trailed off.

  “Where’s Sarah?” Scarlett asked.

  “We haven’t told her yet. The FBI seemed so sure they’d get Angel back, and it’s not like she can do anything to help.” She bit her lip, clearly torn with the decision. “She’d insist on coming back, and she’s probably safer in Utah.”

  Scarlett clenched her fists. Keeping her in the dark to protect her—just as Matt had done with her. This was all her fault. “I’m very sorry, Mrs. LeMay.”

  Valerie’s brown eyes held hers for a moment before she looked away. “You should never have tried to bug him.”

  Scarlett winced. She wasn’t going to argue about that with this woman. Not while her daughter was missing.

  There was no traffic on the road. The whole city seemed deserted. It was only ten minutes from when they left the Mall until they were driving through the stone pillars that marked the Mt. Olivet Cemetery. Although dawn had begun to break along the horizon, it was still dark and creepy. “You really think he came out here? In the dark?”

  “He’s heartbroken, Scarlett.” Mrs. LeMay headed north toward the mausoleum. “I’m worried he’s going to do something stupid.”

  Oh, God. The idea that Angel’s dad might harm himself made Scarlett shake off any remaining self-pity. She threw off the blanket and scanned the massive cemetery, frantically looking for Congressman LeMay. Finally she spotted the bulky shape of a car up ahead on the right. “Is that him there?”

  Mrs. LeMay squinted ahead. “I think it is.”

  Scarlett’ eyes bulged when the woman pulled out a pistol and pointed it right at her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Matt stared down at the body of Sergio Raminski. The guy had made a bloody mess of the art gallery. The poor old guard probably hadn’t stood a chance. Something about the scene was niggling at him.

  At the back of his mind something else was niggling at him too. Too many facts to chase down and clarify. Too many loose ends.

  Matt stared at the single shot, bolt-action ArmaLite AR-50 sniper rifle. Functional, utilitarian, nothing too fancy, but in the right hands would get the job done. There was a pistol, a Glock on the floor. What was bothering him about the scene? “The rifle has a left-hand grip.”

  Frazer’s eyes flashed to the rifle then the pistol. The pistol was a right-handed grip.

  “It’s possible he was ambidextrous.”

  Matt nodded. Good law enforcement officers always practiced with both hands, but they tended to have a preference and stick to it. He stared back at the guard.

  There was a knock on the entry doors. A uniformed officer looked over at them. Frazer nodded and Rooney and Parker came in, careful of the blood spatter.

  Distaste showed on both their faces. “Branson hasn’t moved and doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere. Parker even managed to get inside Branson’s private computer and there was no record of any of the banking transactions we discovered earlier.”

  “He could have gone to an internet café,” suggested Matt.

  “Except a guy in his position barely gets to piss on his own, let alone wander off to an internet café. We called the WFO.” Parker looked like he had something to share. “An FBI agent name of Rosemary Fatima picked up. Said she was the only one in the office. I asked her to check Clarkson’s office, and she said it was empty. His cell phone was there though, sitting right on his desk.”

  They’d been tracking his cell assuming it was with the man. Mistake.

  “Clarkson is looking more and more like the culprit. I need to bring Branson in on this,” said Frazer.

  “Why not go straight to the head of Counterintelligence Division?” Rooney asked.

  “Because Branson might be able to tell us something we can use to find Clarkson, especially if he discovers the guy has been setting him up for the fall all these years,” said Frazer.

  “Just like he set up Stone,” said Matt.

  Parker nodded. “The back-up, back-up plan.” Then he pointed to the dead Russian. “Staged.”

  “How can you tell?” asked Frazer.

  So fast?

  “Shell casings.” Parker pointed at the floor. “They’re all congregated on the other side of the room. None behind this guy. You obviously spotted our man here was a southpaw.” He pointed at Raminski.

  Matt nodded, relieved he’d at least noticed that. “Good eyes. How’d you know so fast?”

  Parker’s expression closed down, and Matt didn’t want to know why.

  “Where’s Scarlett?” Rooney asked.

  “Angel’s mother came to the Mall and took her home with…her.” He stumbled to a stop as something odd hit him. “How the hell did she know we were gonna be there? With Scarlett?” He looked at Frazer, but suddenly knew they’d made a massive mistake. He called Scarlett’s cell while Frazer dialed the FBI agents at the LeMay household.

  Scarlett didn’t answer. Fuck. Crap.

  “Adam LeMay is there? You’re certain?” Frazer asked, catching Matt’s eye. She’d told them her husband was out searching for Angel. “Ask him where he thinks his wife went. He doesn’t know? Fine. Give me her plates and vehicle type. Thanks.” He called the local cops. “I need an APB out on one Valerie LeMay, driving a silver Mercedes.” He reeled off the registration.

  “Her phone is off.” Parker was typing into his laptop one-handed. “Shit. I missed it. One Valerie Jones once worked as a secretary at FBI HQ—she kept her maiden name for work. She left about a year before Stone was arrested. I bet that’s how the LeMays and Stones became friends. Families with kids of similar ages hanging out?”

  “She could have taken the photograph from the home on the day of Stone’s arrest.” Frazer looked pissed. “She could have planted the ciphers and damning information the other agents found there.”

  “She can’t have carried out the hit on Maidstone or taken that photograph of Lazlo’s mother because the FBI were with her for most of the day. So she has an accomplice—probably Clarkson,” said Rooney.

  “Doesn’t matter how she’s involved, she’s involved.” Matt spoke with sudden clarity. “We need to find her.” Because she’d just driven off with the woman he loved. “Scarlett’s cell isn’t working.”

  Parker nodded. “No signal visible. Either disabled or jammed.”

  “Scarlett had a second bug in her jacket pocket. Can you trace it?”

  Parker grimaced. “I can try, but we don’t know the transmission frequency—she says it jum
ps on a cell signal? And if they are using a signal jammer we won’t find anything anyway. Not until they turn it off.”

  Matt thought frantically. “Can you see the areas in the city where signals are being jammed?”

  Parker’s eyes lit up. “Yeah. Should be easy to see depending on the radius of the jammer, but it might take a little while.” He began typing again.

  They didn’t have time.

  Rooney was on her cell. “Cops got traffic-cam hits on the plates, heading north on New York Avenue. Let’s go.”

  “No sirens. Let Parker drive,” Frazer ordered.

  Matt started to argue that Parker was working his magic on the computer, but his boss was adamant. “Trust me. It’ll be faster.”

  * * *

  “Mrs. LeMay?” All the moisture in Scarlett’s mouth dried up. “Why do you have a gun?”

  The woman pulled the car to a stop, turned off the lights, and pointed the gun straight at her chest. “Give me your cell phone.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You don’t have to understand, dear. You just have to do it,” she hissed.

  Scarlett reached into her pocket, touching the transmitter. Her heart thumped crazily as she saw a figure near the car. A man. Dark clothing. Wooly hat. She dug out her cell.

  “Take out the battery.” Mrs. LeMay waved the gun at her, and Scarlett’s pulse skipped a few beats. There were some buildings ahead. A mausoleum and some storage sheds, hard to make out in the gray light. The sound of the occasional car suggested they weren’t far from the highway.

  She still wore the Kevlar vest beneath her jacket and sweater. Her biggest chance might be keeping that information a secret. She took out the battery and laid it on the dash.

  “And the other one.”

  Scarlett turned toward Valerie, and her mouth dropped open.

  “I know you have a burner. Just bring it out carefully and take the battery out of that too. I’m not going to hurt you. That man has Angel.” Scarlett’s eyes whipped around as the figure opened the trunk. “He wants to swap you for Angel because he’s worried what you might know.”

  Dread squeezed her from the inside. She’d told Dorokhov that Maidstone had told her something before he died. Had someone passed that information on to this man? Had Raminski betrayed his Russian boss before shooting him dead?