Reese must have told him that she was definitely in on this investigation.
She took her seat at one end of the conference table, and Ryan pulled out the chair directly opposite hers. He sat and folded his arms, glaring at her. Okay, so he was pissed. Well, so was she. She started to doodle in her pad, like she always did. She found the activity tended to help her focus.
Maggie Fletcher collapsed in the seat next to her, and Vicky frowned at her friend’s wan complexion.
“Are you okay?” Vicky whispered.
Maggie smiled weakly. “I should be asking you that. I’m fine. I think I just ate something off,” she whispered back. “I heard what happened. How are you?”
Vicky shrugged. “I’ll be okay.”
She doubted she’d sleep tonight, the horrific images of Orla’s unconscious body kept playing over and over in her head, her beautiful face twisted and bathed in blood.
So much blood.
Blood, gore and even death weren’t strangers to her, though. At one time, her job had revolved around emergency response to catastrophes. Except this wasn’t a large-scale event. This was the death of a friend’s father, and now a violent attack on her friend, and she was still trying to get her head around it. Orla would be okay. She needed to be okay. For now, she was alive.
Vicky realized her hand was trembling, ever so slightly, and she gripped her pen tighter. She was angry, and determined to find her friend’s attacker, and Karl Kruger’s killer. The marks she was making on her notepad got thicker, darker, as she pressed her pen harder into her notepaper.
Reese McCormack entered the room, and the remaining staff took their seats.
“As you all know, there has been a further development in the Kruger case,” he began, his deep voice smooth and calm. “Our client, Orla Kruger, is now in the hospital. She was attacked earlier today, and left for dead.” Her boss glanced briefly at her, and Vicky nodded. She was good, she could endure the conversation. She wanted to get whoever was responsible for Kruger’s death, and for Orla’s attack.
“So let’s recap,” Reese continued. “Dr. Kruger was found dead four days ago, when his daughter arrived to open his surgery center. Orla previously gave a statement to police that his final appointment was a couple who had recently undergone complete facial reconstructions. Upon their arrival, her father urged Orla to leave early. All records of that couple have since been destroyed, and the patient identities that Orla was able to provide proved to be false.”
He turned to Vicky. “While you were out with Ryan, we received more information.” He nodded to Maggie.
Maggie hiccupped next to her, and clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Sorry,” she mumbled behind her hand. She fumbled with a clicker and pointed it at the data projector in the ceiling. The large screen mounted on the wall behind Reese flashed, and Vicky glanced with curiosity at Ryan, who shrugged his wide shoulders and turned in his seat to view the screen.
“Fingerprints were found at the Kruger murder scene,” Maggie began. She met Vicky’s gaze and swallowed before continuing. She clicked, and two mug shots appeared on the screen of a man and woman. Vicky estimated them both to be in their late twenties to early thirties.
“Simon and Jade Maxwell,” Maggie began. “Grew up in Lincoln, Nebraska, married in college. Both Jade and Simon started breaking into homes, again while in college. Initially it was just theft, but then they found they had a talent for blackmail. There’s even an assault charge against Simon. They found their reward grew bigger, depending on the wealth and status of the family home they broke into—and what they found there. Simon is a bit of a techie,” she said, turning briefly to Luke before continuing. “He was on a full scholarship to Caltech, before he lost it due to his activities.”
Vicky moved forward in her seat to lean on the table. “What about Jade Maxwell?”
Maggie grimaced. “Her young life is dotted with scrapes with the law. She dropped out of college while Simon was in prison for the assault charge. There is an unsubstantiated report that she was raped at college by a fellow student, but no investigation was ever filed.”
“Why the hell not?” Noah Samuels frowned from the end of the table.
Maggie checked her file. “The guy accused was from a wealthy family. Some witnesses came forward to state that it was a consensual act at a party. It came down to he said, she said. Nothing could be proven, so the case was dropped.”
“This guy’s family wouldn’t happen to be one of those early robberies, would they?” Vicky asked, then stared as Maggie seemed to dry retch, then clap a hand over her mouth.
“’Scuse me,” Maggie mumbled.
Vicky eyed her friend cautiously as she answered.
“Uh, yes, they would. Actually, they were the first,” Maggie finally responded. “Since then the Maxwells are prime suspects in a number of house robberies and con-artist schemes.”
“Why do we think they’re responsible for Kruger’s death? There is a big leap between robbery and scheming cons, to murder. Is there anything else in their records?” Mal Ryker asked. He was new to their group, but Vicky thought he showed a lot of promise with the strategic planning side of things.
“Well, that’s our problem,” Maggie replied. “The reason we have these two on file in the first place is because Simon was arrested once for that assault and Jade did some shady things, but they haven’t been charged for any of the recent suspected activity. With all the confidence schemes they’ve been running, there is a slightly different description of them each time. They’re suspects, but nothing has ever been proven. These guys are ghosts. They change their appearance like they change their underwear. They’re constantly on the move. Their spree originated in Nebraska, and they’ve hit pretty much every state, except Ohio.”
Noah snorted. “Nothin’ worth taking in Ohio.”
“Hey, I’m from Ohio,” Mal protested.
“Case in point,” Noah responded with a grin.
“Why do we think they’re involved with the murders?” Ryan asked.
Maggie clicked to the next image, and Vicky clenched her jaw at the sight of the smooth-faced, handsome man she knew was aged somewhere in his fifties, although he didn’t look it. She would not cry, damn it.
“This is Dr. Karl Kruger, before his death. Jade’s fingerprint was found on his glasses. We think she and Simon are the mysterious couple who had the facial reconstructions. The last patients to be admitted into his surgery before his murder.”
Maggie clicked through to crime scene photos of the doctor’s murder.
“Whoa.” This came from Mal as he looked at the screen. “That’s nasty.”
Maggie’s chair fell back as she turned and raced from the room, clapping her hands over her mouth. Luke grimaced and raised an apologetic wave to all for his wife’s speedy exit.
Vicky averted her eyes and grabbed the clicker that Maggie had dropped on the table. She pressed the button, removing the distressing images from the screen. Yes, part of their job was to analyze the crime scene, look for clues in the photographs, try and get an idea as to the motivation behind the crime. But she’d had dinner with that man a week before his death. He wasn’t just a victim. He’d been her friend, too.
Her gaze rose to meet Ryan’s. His gray eyes were fixed on her. The process they used for taking on cases wasn’t a democratic one, nor was the assignment to the agents. Each person had specialized skills, and they used them collaboratively. As Operations Manager, she didn’t need his permission to accept a case, just his cooperation. She wanted him to give that freely.
“They probably killed him so that he couldn’t tell anyone of their new identities,” Noah said.
Vicky nodded. “A minimal cash float was stolen, but I agree, Noah. I think they tried to make it look like a robbery gone wrong.”
“May
be it was a robbery gone wrong. Just because they were the last to be seen with the doctor, who’s to say someone else didn’t come in after they left, and tried to rob the surgery?” Ryan suggested. He shrugged. “We might need to consider that.”
Vicky told herself he wasn’t questioning her judgment, or arguing her position, he was just being his normal, argumentative, thorough self.
Jerk.
She drew devil’s horns on the rough likeness of Ryan she’d absently drawn.
“The surgery was wiped free of prints, with the exception of the inside door handle of the surgery, and Dr. Kruger’s spectacles. Some partials were found, enough for a match.” Reese took over the presentation. He indicated the folders they each held in their hands. “The reports are in your files. Jade Maxwell’s fingerprints were found on the frame, and Simon Maxwell’s fingerprints were found on the door handle. Neither is listed as patients, so we can safely assume they were the ones to destroy the patient records.”
Vicky swallowed. That damn woman had gotten close enough to her friend’s father to make him vulnerable to an attack. He must have trusted her, assumed she was safe. She wondered briefly how they’d managed to get close enough to Orla to do what they did, then purposely shut down that painful train of thought.
“Any idea where they might be hiding now?” Mike asked.
“No. These two are phantoms. They haven’t been caught for theft since Simon was released from prison. They never use the same name twice. We’re going to have to track down their associates. Someone gives them fake IDs, or knows where they hide.”
Maggie entered the room, looking pasty and wan. She gave a halfhearted smile as she made her way to her seat.
“So, we know the facts,” Reese said as he straightened in his seat at the head of the table. Vicky watched as Luke reached over to hold his wife’s hand. Maggie gave her a quick wink before turning her attention to Reese.
“While we have no evidence to tie the Maxwells to Orla Kruger’s attack, we believe they could be responsible, probably because Orla could identify them as the last patients of Dr. Kruger, and she’s seen their new faces. Unfortunately, any evidence of Orla’s attack was likely destroyed in the house explosion.” Reese turned to Ryan. “Can you tell us what exactly happened?”
Vicky stopped drawing to listen as Ryan relayed ‘the incident’, and Luke typed notes into his laptop. He stated things calmly, his tone impersonal and matter-of-fact. She steeled herself when he got to the part about finding Orla.
“Ultimate? Ultimate what?” Drew asked, when Ryan mentioned the bloodstained bath. “What do you think she meant? Ultimate peace in death? Ultimate evil, in reference to her attackers?”
“Ultima.” Vicky corrected, staring down at her notepad. “The word was Ultima. Not ultimate.”
“Maybe she...you know, passed out.” Drew shrugged apologetically.
“She was found alive. Let’s assume she finished what she was trying to write. Any ideas?” Reese asked.
“Ultima,” Maggie repeated quietly. “Italian for last. Any Italian connection?”
Vicky shook her head. “No. Her family was German.”
“Okay, so it’s probably not a personal connection. Which means she was referring to our killers in some way,” said Reese.
“Well, doing a quick search on Google,” Luke said, looking up from his laptop, “there are any number of references, from fantasy games, to bands, a couples’ resort—it could be anything.”
Reese leaned forward. “Let’s look at this practically. Two assumed felons, possibly recovering from facial plastic surgery. What do you do?”
“Travel could be an issue. If they’re still recovering then they probably can’t go too far. Airports have thorough screening, so they’d avoid flying,” Ryan said quietly.
“That kind of surgery wouldn’t come cheap. They could be broke. Maybe they need a new rich target,” Drew offered.
“So, they’d need rest and money,” Noah suggested.
“This couples’ resort looks like a good bet,” Luke said, staring at his screen. “Ultra posh. Listen to this. ‘Power up your career, your relationships, your life,’” Luke read aloud their slogan, then let out a low whistle. “And very, very expensive. They cater to ‘those who require the utmost discretion.’ Rich folks. Very rich, looking at their rates page. They have a fresh intake of couples each week for intensive group, couple and individual counseling and motivation—broken up with massages and spa treatments. There’s a new intake due tomorrow night.”
“Sounds like a good place to hide during the final stages of recovery for facial surgery,” Drew observed.
“Or to find your next mark,” Noah commented. “If I was in the habit of robbing from wealthy families, it could be a good place to get close enough to glean some information about their security measures, or get dirt for blackmail.”
Vicky nodded. That made sense. It could be the perfect hiding spot for the killing couple. Why not kill two birds with one stone? Recover, and set up your next target at the same time?
“This is an exclusive resort. I think our best approach is to send someone in undercover,” Reese said.
Vicky nodded in agreement, and she caught Ryan doing the same thing. Usually he was the undercover star, able to don a new persona as easily as donning a coat.
“What are you thinking? Housekeeping? Hospitality?” Drew cringed. “Janitor?”
Reese shook his head. “I don’t think so. The best way for them get some new blackmail material would be to cozy up to the guests, sit in on the therapy sessions. Housekeeping wouldn’t give them that access. The Maxwells can then approach on an equal level, pass themselves off as peers maybe. You won’t share personal information with a waiter, but you will with someone else in the same counseling group. So we’ll do the same. Ryan, you’re our resident chameleon. You’ll go in as a developer, wanting to ‘power up’ his business.”
“You’ll need a couple,” Vicky said absently as she drew a pirate’s patch on Ryan’s caricature head. The room was silent for a moment. Vicky looked up. They were all looking intently at her. Drew was trying to hide a smile behind his mouth, but she saw it.
“What?” Had she missed something? She closed her notebook with a snap.
Maggie heaved next to her.
Reese smiled at her. “Well, you’ve always said you wanted to do some fieldwork.”
Vicky gaped at him. Yeah, she’d told him at that, at every performance appraisal, and just before this meeting, but—with Ryan? She meant conducting interviews, investigative legwork...but posing as Ryan’s wife?
“Uh, well...” she paused. She would rather stick a hot poker in her eye than go undercover at a couples’ resort with Ryan.
“No.” Ryan’s flat negation had her frowning. “You can’t be serious, Reese. She has no experience in the field, let alone undercover.”
“Hey, I’ve had some training,” she protested.
“That’s right,” Drew commented. “I’ve taken her shooting. She actually hits the target now.”
“Well, normally I’d team you up with—” Reese stopped talking as Maggie again raced from the room.
“I think it’s last night’s salmon,” Luke said, before he followed her.
“Maggie,” Reese finished. He gestured to the door. “But, as you can see, that’s out of the question at the moment. Vicky will partner you for this case.”
Ryan frowned. “Wait, no! She could get herself killed. She’s got no experience.”
“What is it that you think I do around here, Ryan?”
Chapter Four
A brief silence fell after Vicky’s softly spoken question.
Noah closed his folder with a sharp snap. “I’m outta here. I’ll ask Jess if she can maybe organize a wardrobe for Vicky. If she’s going to mingle with
the wannabe rich and powerfuls, she’ll have to look the part.” Noah beat a hasty retreat.
“I don’t know whether to run or stay,” Mal whispered sotto voce.
Drew folded his arms and leaned back. “Stay. It’ll be worth it.”
Vicky ignored their comments as she waited for Ryan to respond.
He held his hands out, palms up. “Come on, Vic. Be serious.”
She leaned forward in her chair. “I am being serious. I want to go into the field.” She was surprised to find herself speaking the truth, and not just trying to annoy Ryan. She wanted to find Karl Kruger’s killer. She wanted to find whoever had hacked at her close friend and left her for dead. Everyone around here treated her like a glorified receptionist. She wanted respect. Most of all, she wanted Ryan’s respect.
Ryan laughed. “Aw, come on, you’re not an agent.” He stopped laughing when he realized she was serious. “But...”
Vicky narrowed her gaze. “So help me, if you say—”
“You’re our Moneypenny. You stay...here. Where it’s safe.”
Vicky gaped at him. Drew was making a choking sound in the background. She ignored it and shook her head in disbelief.
He’d said it.
“You said it.” She looked over to Reese, who was intently reading the file in his hands, as though it contained new and exciting information.
She turned back to glare at the infuriating, gorgeous man across the table.
“So I’m just some secretary for you to flirt with, whenever you’re in town?”
“No!” Ryan frowned. “Of course not. I don’t... We don’t... You—you make travel arrangements.”
Vicky recoiled, as though he’d slapped her in the face. Maybe it was the emotional drain of finding her friend in the bathtub, or narrowly escaping being blown into tiny pieces, or maybe it was exasperation at constantly trying to prove herself to Ryan. Either way, she didn’t have the patience for this rubbish. Her hands met the table with a loud smack, and she slowly rose to her feet. Heat bloomed in her cheeks, her knuckles turning white as she clutched the rim of the table, clinging to control. She wanted to smack the smirk off his face, clear into the next century. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t smirking, but she wanted to remove his stunned expression and have it replaced with...something else.
For Her Eyes Only (McCormack Security Agency) Page 4