Yeah, I hear you, but there’s nothing I can do about it.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said, still holding his surfboard. “I’m gonna catch a few.”
She jerked her head. “Tide chart says six forty-five. I checked it last night.”
Something about her checking the tide charts for him forced him to grin. “You okay?”
“I’m going to do it,” she said. “The FBI thing.”
No.
Peter dropped his board in the sand, stepped onto the deck and sat on the edge of her chair. “You sure?”
“I was up half the night. I can’t get the kids out of my head. I keep thinking about Creepy Izzy and the havoc she’s causing between us. I might be able to save one of those girls.” She brought her gaze back to him, misery mapping her face. “Don’t I owe them that? A chance for them to be—as you said last night—whole?”
“I was talking about you. You and me. Don’t let that influence this decision. Two totally different things.”
She drew in a breath. “Maybe so, but those children could become adults and turn into me. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”
Peter scrubbed his hands over his face wishing he’d kept his big mouth shut. He couldn’t help admire her willingness to jump in, but she could get hurt. Or worse. And then what? “It’s not your responsibility.”
“Says the man who has taken on my problems.”
“That’s different.”
“Actually, it’s not.”
“The FBI can find someone else,” he said.
“But I have a chance to get in there faster.” She sat up, grabbed his hand and the blanket slid off her shoulder, revealing a white tank top adorned with pink flip-flops. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to call Sampson and tell him I’ll do it.”
A nagging itch trailed the back of Peter’s neck and he tugged on his wet suit’s zipper leash. Yeah, that’s the problem. The zipper was causing the itch. “You realize you’ll have to take time off of work, right?”
Yes, he wanted to talk her out of it. He wanted her safe, and sending her into that compound where all kinds of depravity could exist jeopardized that.
“You don’t want me to do this.”
He jerked a shoulder and searched her eyes for self-doubt, but he didn’t see much of it. No, he saw determination. “I understand why you want to, but for selfish reasons, I’d rather you not.”
She brushed her hand down his arm. “It’ll be fine, Peter. I’ll tell my uncle I’m taking a leave of absence. The Parker trial will start soon, but someone will to take my spot.”
A seagull landed on the sand at the foot of the deck in search of food, but Peter’s gaze went to the shoreline where high tide rolled in. The pounding waves offered an invitation to lament this on his board. Probably a good move before he said something stupid. He turned back to Izzy. “Sounds like you thought it out last night.”
“I did. It’s the children. I can’t get past that.”
He stood. “Okay then. I’m going to catch some waves and think about how I can help you.”
“Peter—”
He held up a hand. “I’m done talking about this right now.”
He scooped up his board while fast moving thoughts nearly fried his mind. How the hell was he going to avoid her entering that compound alone? On top of that, in his fucked-up mind-set, could he keep her from getting hurt?
The way his luck was running he’d create more problems for her.
His involvement would also send Vic into freakville, which wouldn’t get him back to work any time soon. Another happy day in paradise.
The bigger issue would be Izzy staying in one piece, and if she didn’t, Peter would have to live with it.
At quarter after twelve Isabelle saw Agent Sampson stroll around the path in Fireside Park, a quiet, heavily wooded area a few miles off Route 35 in Woodbridge. He had chosen the place and given her directions when she’d called him that morning. Of course, a woman alone shouldn’t walk in this park. Too many places for bad guys to hide. Maybe that was just her own paranoia, but she couldn’t deny her relief when Sampson came into view.
He spotted her and smiled just enough that the dimple in his cheek winked at her. His suit, a gray one this time, fit in all the right places and his hair was combed back with perfect precision. One handsome man.
And he knew it.
“Ms. DeRosa,” he said, giving her a little bow before he sat next to her on the bench.
She snorted at the gesture. Yep. He’s a slick one. “Agent Sampson.”
Their eyes connected for a few seconds. Weren’t they a pair? Two people unashamed to barter their looks for what they wanted. She liked this guy. Even if he was about to throw her life into a pit of anthrax.
Isabelle circled her sweaty hands over her black slacks, the sleepless night dragging on her like cement. “How can I help you?”
He pulled a photograph from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it to her. Isabelle took the photo, analyzed it. A young woman with silky auburn hair smiling into the camera.
“Nicole Pratt,” Sampson said. “An Xavier University student and the daughter of Congresswoman Monica Hollis.”
Yes. The daughter had disappeared a few weeks back. “She’s missing, right? Something happened to her while she was traveling?”
“That’s the story the press has. We believe Nicole went into Kendrick Edmonds’s compound and something happened to her there. She told her mother she’d be traveling all summer with her friend Kaitlin. When her mother couldn’t reach her by cell phone, she tracked down Kaitlin’s parents and found Kaitlin at home in Ohio. Nicole wasn’t with her. Nicole told Kaitlin she was staying in Cincinnati for the summer to take classes.”
Isabelle handed the photo back. “She lied?”
“Yes. We don’t know why. Kaitlin said Nicole had been volunteering for a group called The Organization for the Underprivileged. Kendrick was the founding member. The compound is outside of Cincinnati.”
“I’m assuming you questioned Kendrick.”
Sampson nodded. “Yes. We questioned anyone who had contact with her. Kendrick said Nicole had helped with some fundraising, but they hadn’t seen her since May.”
“And you think he lied.”
Sampson leaned back, just a regular Joe enjoying his lunch hour. “We know he lied. Her phone is GPS enabled. I checked her records and the GPS puts her on the compound three days before her mother reported her missing. That was the last time the phone was used. Kendrick didn’t think about the cell phone giving us her location.”
A flickering snapped at Isabelle’s skin. “Kendrick was a pervert for sure, but murder? What could they be up to that he’d kill someone for it?”
“We know they lure people on welfare by telling them they can get off public aid. The residents go through an approval process before they are allowed to live on the property.”
“Does this organization really exist?”
“We think it’s a front,” Sampson said. “They recruit volunteers, let them do the bucket drives and the phoning. The residents are also required to do the fundraising.”
She held up her hands. “Hang on. I’m confused. What’s the point of this group if they aren’t helping the needy?”
“That’s what we need to know.”
Isabelle knew she was staring, but this was just too much. None of it made any sense. Or maybe she was naive, but that had never been an issue before. “I find it hard to believe bucket drives help them raise enough money to support this compound.”
Sampson touched his nose with his index finger. Score. “Seth Donner—the number two guy—has money of his own. He’s in his forties and has been steadily working as a software engineer. Plus, he inherited some money from his deceased parents. The other fundraising seems to be a bonus. Still though, why would this guy be the sole supporter of this group if there wasn’t something in it for him?”
“Right,” she agreed.
“We need to g
et an agent in there, but that will take time. You were invited to the compound and might be able to get in faster.”
Isabelle, still facing front, needed a second to absorb this.
He turned toward her, eyes sparkling, and she got a large dose of his dangerous charm. This guy was good. Anyone walking by would think they were an ordinary couple stealing a few minutes alone.
“Look,” he said, “we don’t know if it’s some sort of domestic terrorism or sex slavery, but something is going on in that compound.”
She breathed in and let the insanity work into her brain. “Bizarre.”
“Yes, it is.”
With Kendrick’s sexual history she could connect him to some sort of sex slavery ring. And the FBI wanted her, with her hang-ups, to get into the middle of it.
Heaven help her.
Risking the career she’d been building was one thing, but her emotional stability—or lack thereof—was something else. In the end, could she walk away from this a better person?
Or would she crumble from the pressure and forever turn into Creepy Izzy?
She just didn’t know.
Leaving her life in Jersey and temporarily relocating to Ohio wouldn’t be easy. Isabelle turned to Sampson and crossed one leg over the other, trying to appear casual to anyone who might be watching. “Xavier U is in Cincinnati. I thought you were based out of Newark. Why isn’t the Cincinnati field office handling this?”
He mirrored her position. “The congresswoman requested me.”
Ah-ha! Sampson had a thing with the congresswoman. Isabelle clucked her tongue. “Friends in high places, Agent Sampson?”
It didn’t seem possible, but his eyes darkened. “Meaning, am I screwing the congresswoman?”
Isabelle held her palm up.
“No,” he said. “My brother is her senior aide. She trusts me to find her daughter.”
Shame rose inside Isabelle. Obviously, all men didn’t use sex as a tool. “Sorry, if I insulted you.”
“Under the circumstances, I suppose it’s a legitimate question. And for your information, I don’t mix business with pleasure. It gets too complicated in my line of work.”
She snorted a laugh. “Good to know I don’t have to worry about you hitting on me.”
His eyes met hers. “At least not until this case is over.”
Her mind immediately went to Peter in his beat up clothes and do-rag. Putting him next to Wade Sampson’s tailored suits and model perfect looks would be quite a comparison.
Peter though, had more understanding and patience than any man she’d known. Were they a couple? She didn’t know, but she didn’t want to jeopardize the tenuous early stages of what might be something special.
A relationship.
Her chest felt as if someone had parked a bus on it. Special relationships were few and far apart for her. She generally couldn’t give enough of herself to make it work and the men eventually walked away. She never blamed them. Sometimes she wanted to walk away from herself.
“You should know I’m involved with someone,” she said.
He nodded. “Peter Jessup. The guy at the cemetery the other day. We checked him out.”
She rested her elbow on the back of the bench and fiddled with her nails. “He’s a good man. He saved my butt with Kendrick a couple of times.”
Sampson nodded. “He’s also an ex-Navy SEAL with two Silver Stars who does contract work for the government.”
Silver Stars? The man had a gift for shocking her. A tickle of pride blossomed inside her.
“With his background,” Sampson said, “this guy is my worst nightmare. As long as he stays out of my case, I don’t have a problem with him.”
Good luck with that.
Isabelle shook off a laugh. Peter didn’t have it in him to mind his own business. “How is this going to work? Do I just walk up to the compound and knock?”
“That’s exactly what you do. Seth Donner probably knows Edmonds invited you. If not, you simply tell him that’s why you’re there. That you wanted to see the place. He may turn you away. My hope is that he’ll take one look at you and invite you in. Once there, help out, get friendly with the residents. Find someone you connect with and work the relationship.”
“And if I get in? What then? Do I have to stay if I’m not comfortable?”
“No. This is completely voluntary. You can walk away whenever you choose. It could be dangerous.”
What he didn’t bother to add, and they both understood, was her place on the murder suspect list still existed. Even if her alibi checked out, she could be in line for a conspiracy charge.
A bird landed on an overhead branch causing Isabelle to jump. She glared at it. Dumb bird. She turned back to Sampson. “I won’t wear a wire. Not at first.”
“That’s a problem,” he said.
Peter had warned her Sampson would push back. Heck, she wouldn’t have thought of it had Peter not brought it up. He’d convinced her it would be better for her to gain the trust of the members before wearing any kind of recording devices. What if they searched her and found the wire?
“It’s my only condition. If you want me, it’s without a wire.”
Sampson did a yes-no thing with his head. “Let me float it.”
“Knock yourself out.”
For some reason, he laughed. “What else?”
“How should I contact you?”
“Call me from a secure phone outside the compound. I’ll be working out of the Cincinnati office. Generally, I don’t give my sources a lot of information. If you appear to know too much, the group members will get suspicious.”
That sounded reasonable. She’d rather be in the dark anyway. She didn’t want to have to filter information. All she wanted to be was the messenger.
The alarm on her phone beeped and she reached to silence it. “I need to get back. I’ll call you in a day or two.”
She rose from the bench and Sampson followed, holding out his hand for her to shake.
“We’re going to be working together, so you might as well call me Wade. And thank you.”
Staring down at his hand, she took it, and the soft skin reminded her of Peter and his calloused fingers. “Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t done anything.”
“Yeah, but something tells me you will.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Are you shitting me?” Vic asked.
Peter stood in the middle of his mother’s picture-perfect lawn talking to Vic on his cell. He didn’t have time for this crap. All he wanted were his guns and some information. Bad enough he was too paranoid to make this phone call from inside his car or the house. What if the cops bugged it?
“Yeah. I’m shitting you. I have nothing better to do than call and mess with your head. Why would I make this up?”
“I talked to you two days ago and suddenly Isabelle is going undercover for the feds? What the fuck?”
Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Once again. I’ll try to speak slowly so you can understand.”
“Oh, fuck you,” Vic hollered.
Peter laughed because, although it wasn’t funny, it was still funny. “The feds showed up yesterday. She talked it over with me last night. I did my best to stay neutral, but I did try to sway her not to do it.”
Rustling leaves drew his attention and he swung his head right, his eyes shifting to locate the disturbance. A squirrel darted around the base of the hundred-year-old oak tree. A squirrel. Peter unclenched his ass and rolled his eyes. Yes, his nerves were so fried that if he’d had a gun, the terrorist squirrel would be toast.
Get a grip.
“They got to her on the abused kids, right?” Vic asked.
“Yes. When I showed up to surf this morning she told me she wanted to do it. She met with the agent in charge this afternoon and we’re off.”
“Un-fucking-believable. Who’s the agent? I’ll call Lynx and check him out.”
Pay dirt. Lynx, a former army buddy of Vic’s, worked for the
State Department.
“Wade Sampson is his name. He’s based out of the Newark office. He seems like a straight up guy, but who knows.”
“Got it. What else?”
Peter shook off the drumming in his head. He would not go there. Even if every instinct pushed him that way.
“You still there?” Vic asked.
“Yeah. Ask Lynx if this guy has a history of getting personally involved with his sources.”
So much for not going there. He had to though. For Izzy’s sake.
Right. For his own damn sake because he wanted to be sure Mr. Slick wouldn’t steal his girl.
“He moved on her already?” Vic sounded incredulous. “Even I never worked that fast.”
Peter pulled the phone down, banged his knuckle on it, and brought it back to his ear. “Hey! Can we focus here?”
“Sorry,” Vic said. Peter heard a tapping noise. Probably Vic smacking his pen against the desk. He did that when his brain got active. “What’s the plan? She’s going to Ohio?”
Peter tilted his head back, closed his eyes and let the late afternoon sun warm his skin. A perfect beach day. “Yep. I’m going with her.”
“No.”
His muscles spasmed. “Excuse me?”
“You’re on vacation. A mandatory one. She has to go in there alone anyway. The feds will lock you up before they let you anywhere near this case.”
Peter ground his teeth together at the reminder of his mandatory R&R. “Are you stoned? She can’t go there alone. Even if I won’t be able to go in with her, I can be around. The feds can’t keep me from being in the area. I’ll get a hotel room and lay low. At least she’ll have someone close if she gets into trouble.”
More tapping from the other end.
“I’ll send someone else,” Vic said. “You stay put.”
Someone else? Negatory.
Peter shook his head so hard he got woozy. “She trusts me. She doesn’t need someone else. Someone she doesn’t know. It’ll just add to her stress. I’m fine. Unless you count wanting to kill my mother last night, but I get a pass on that because it wasn’t my fault.”
“You’re mother is a sweetheart. Leave her alone.”
A Just Deception Page 13