Cold Blooded

by Toni Anderson

  “I would never betray you like that…” She swallowed, trying to get moisture into her dry throat. She would never do that. A personal relationship would always trump a story, and she would never betray a source. If he didn’t see that how could they ever hope to have a real relationship?

  He knelt beside her and swept her hair behind her ear. “Like I said, I don’t think you leaked anything. My boss hates reporters.”

  “So do you.”

  “Not anymore.” He smiled and put his hands over hers. “I have to head in. Go back to sleep. I’ll call you in a couple of hours to check you’re okay. Things are a mess right now, but I do trust you.”

  His cell phones rang, one after the other, but he ignored them both as they silently stared at one another. She wanted to believe in him. She wanted to believe in them.

  His landline rang shrilly. His voice filled the air, and she jolted even as she realized it was his answering machine. She could hear him clearly from another room.

  “Agent Kincaid. I tried your work and cell numbers but you didn’t answer so I’m trying the other number you wrote on your business card.”

  Hunt climbed to his feet and strode out of the room. Pip followed him into the kitchen.

  “This is Karen Spalding from Blake.” The woman sounded stressed. “I really must object to FBI agents and the CDC coming onto the campus and removing anthrax and other biological samples in armed raids. It crosses a line. I don’t care if there’s a threat. The CDC can’t simply walk in here and take whatever they want and make us look like villains.”

  Hunt stood next to the machine and bowed his head. Pip had already heard enough. Spalding left her number and rang off.

  Biological samples. Threat.

  Pip put a hand on the counter to steady herself.

  Biological threat.

  Anthrax.

  Her mouth went bone dry. All evidence had pointed to this from the start. Hunt’s job. The way scenes had been processed—she’d been too traumatized to figure it out.

  “So, you created a cover story about new procedures when dealing with dead scientists because you were concerned, what, Cindy was developing a biological weapon?” She laughed as she said it but Hunt’s expression told her she was right.

  “Oh, my God.” Pip swallowed. It seemed fantastical and unreal.

  You don’t know everything.

  “No way would Cindy hurt anyone,” she told him firmly. “I assume you now believe it was the professor? He killed Cindy to hide the fact he was, what, making anthrax?” The notion horrified her. “Why didn’t you warn me? I would have backed off—”

  He sank his hands into his hair. “It’s classified—”

  “I could have died!” she yelled so hard a pain shot through her head. She closed her eyes and turned away from him, resting both hands on the counter.

  “You can’t tell anyone about this. If the general population find out there could be a mass panic…”

  She shut out whatever he was saying. Despite what he’d said just minutes ago, he didn’t trust her. Even if he did, his colleagues didn’t. Hence him being in trouble at work and Will giving her shit on the phone.

  “I need to go,” Hunt said. “Fuller is missing. Can we talk about this in the morning?”

  Emotions welled up in her throat again and she blinked back tears. She nodded and held still when he kissed her on the temple. Then he was gone, and she forced herself to push aside the fatigue and lethargy and move. No way could she stay here alone in his space.

  She wasn’t strong enough to protect her heart the way she needed to and it would hurt too much when it all went horribly wrong. And it always went horribly wrong. So much for “Never Give Up. Never Surrender” being tattooed to her skin.

  The front door banged shut and she strode to the bedroom and picked up her purse. She was barefoot and dressed in scrubs but didn’t care. She couldn’t stay here.

  She picked up the keys to Cindy’s SUV and let herself out. Hunt was gone. She climbed into the vehicle, gingerly putting her bare foot on the pedal as she started the engine, grateful for the blast of warm air from the heater.

  She called him. She wasn’t going to be a coward about this. She wasn’t going to lie to him. But he didn’t pick up and a gutless part of her gave a sigh of relief.

  “Hunt. I’m heading back to the hotel. I’m not comfortable staying at your house alone and I think we should back off for a little while. I…” God, this was so hard. Just a few minutes ago she’d been snuggling in his bed. “I appreciate all your kindness but this thing between us isn’t going to work. You deserve someone better than me. Someone braver. Goodbye.” She hung up and immediately felt as if she was going to be sick, and it wasn’t from the head injury. It was the self-imposed madness of walking—no, running—away from a man who might just be the love of her life.

  But they could never be compatible. She wasn’t sure she could cope with him having a job that meant he couldn’t confide in her about what he did. And even if she could accept it, he’d spend his entire career defending and apologizing for her. She couldn’t bear the idea of putting him through that ordeal. Of undermining the only job he’d ever wanted. Better she break it off now before they both had their hearts crushed.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Cindy’s house key was on the fob and she remembered she’d left a few clothes in the bedroom at the Resnick’s house.

  It wasn’t that far away and beat the heck out of entering the hotel barefoot and looking like an extra for The Walking Dead.

  Ten minutes later she was letting herself into Cindy’s house, moving quietly around the place out of habit. Why hadn’t the alarm been set? She’d have to have a long talk to the cleaner about security.

  She padded silently up the carpeted staircase. Walked past Cindy’s closed bedroom door to her old room and turned on the light. Everything was dear and familiar. It crystalized something else. Tomorrow she was moving out of the hotel and into this house until she figured everything out. She opened a drawer and pulled out an old FSU tee and a pair of ragged jeans. She also found a gray hoodie, socks and a pair of old running shoes in the closet. Her phone rang and she checked the number. It was Hunt. He must have gotten her message.

  She drew in a deep breath, but before she could answer the call she heard the creak of a floorboard and whirled around. In the doorway stood Adrian Lightfoot. His eyes were red-rimmed and his suit was creased as if he’d slept in it.

  “Adrian,” she exclaimed.

  “What are you doing here?” they said in unison.

  “I needed some clothing,” Pip said, feeling awkward.

  His eyes were a little wild and she started to feel uncomfortable. “Why are you here, Adrian?”

  Her phone went silent. Hunt had given up on her.

  Adrian opened his mouth and closed it again, then ran his hand through his blond hair, making it stand on end.

  “I came over earlier. Fell asleep. I’m so sorry. I heard a noise and thought a burglar had gotten in.”

  Pip stared at him. And suddenly some of the things Cindy and Dane had said clicked into place. “You were in love with her. With Cindy.”

  He sniffed loudly and blinked as he looked away. “I was. I thought she loved me back. We’d been seeing each other for a few months and she texted me to tell me she’d finished and planned to submit the next day. I decided to go to the cottage, surprise her with some flowers.”

  Another thing became clear. “It was your DNA on the bedsheets.”

  Why hadn’t Cindy mentioned she was seeing him?

  His lips twisted. “Probably. I’m not a hundred percent sure now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Cindy was stringing me along. Seeing other men.”

  Pip frowned. “She wouldn’t do that.”

  He tilted his head. “She started seeing me when she was still dating that clown Dane.”

  Pip shook her head. “She wouldn’t have been sleeping with you both
at the same time. Why didn’t she tell me about you two?”

  “I asked her not to. She’s a client for God’s sake, not to mention way too young for me.”

  “She was twenty-eight, old enough to make up her own mind about who she dated. You’re not exactly ancient or hard on the eyes. And she could have gotten a new lawyer.”

  He looked stricken. “I wanted to take it slow. I told her to get someone else but she wanted me to handle the patent issues that were coming to a head.”

  Pip ignored the slight sting of hurt that Cindy had kept this from her.

  Memories of their fight became clearer now. Sharper. More painful. Pip had accused Cindy of sleeping around when she was already in a relationship with this man. Cindy must have resented Pip’s pious lecturing, especially if she’d promised Adrian she’d keep their relationship private.

  His lip curled. “Stop pretending she was such an angel.”

  “She was—”

  “Liar!” His voice cracked.

  A tremor of fear raced through her. Had Hunt been wrong about who killed Cindy?

  “That’s what I thought too, until I saw her.” He choked on a sob. “The night she died…”

  A wave of ice crashed over Pip. Her fingers hovered over the redial button to Hunt’s cell.

  “She was fucking that asshole in the living room of the cottage.”

  “Wait. What?”

  “Pete Dexter. That slimy bastard.”

  Pip’s legs went from underneath her and she sat on the bed. “You saw her having sex with Pete Dexter the night she died?”

  “She was naked. He had his clothes on.” His voice was bitter. Pip could smell whiskey on his breath. “Trust me. She was having the time of her life—”

  “No.” Her stomach turned. Hunt thought the professor had killed Cindy. “Are you sure it was Pete? Not her advisor?”

  “She was fucking her professor, too?” Adrian looked up at the ceiling. He was clutching a book. Gone With the Wind, she realized. It was in bad shape now, as if he’d been sleeping with it. Obviously, he’d been the one to give it to Cindy. It made sense now. He’d been in love with her. Had he also taken Cindy’s journal so the authorities wouldn’t question him?

  “Why didn’t you tell the cops about Pete?” Pip asked, incredulous.

  “Because the autopsy said she died from drowning and drugs! I didn’t want to destroy my career by admitting the affair. I didn’t want the world to know I’d been a damned fool.”

  “But you’re wrong about what happened.” She wasn’t sure she should tell him something Hunt had told her in confidence, but this man’s pain cut through her and she needed him to understand Cindy hadn’t betrayed him. “Someone roofied her water bottle when she went for a run. Then they force fed her champagne laced with cocaine.”

  Adrian frowned and swayed a little. “But I saw her…”

  “You saw her being raped!” Fury erupted inside Pip.

  Adrian’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “Someone drugged her and if what you’re saying is correct”—because if he was lying she just realized she was alone in the house with a deranged lunatic who only had one reason to lie—“the same person raped her then fed her more cocaine.”

  Pete Dexter. Hatred filled her. She was going to kill the sonofabitch herself. “It’s possible he either purposely led her to the lake, or just left her alone and in her altered state she decided to go for a swim.”

  Anguish followed by rage twisted Adrian’s features. “I’m going to kill him.”

  She grabbed his arm but he shook her off and she fell to the floor. By the time she got over the immobilizing shock of the confrontation, Adrian was gone. She dragged herself upright, breathing heavily. Headed downstairs cautiously, following the lights that had been turned on throughout the house. She reached Cindy’s dad’s study and saw the safe was wide open. She checked inside. The gun was gone.

  * * *

  Pip had called Hunt’s cell repeatedly and left messages that she urgently needed to talk to him about Cindy’s death, but he wasn’t returning her call. She’d called 911, but they hadn’t taken her seriously, especially when she didn’t know where Adrian or Pete were currently located. No way was she sitting and waiting all night for some busy detective to come and take a statement.

  She drove to the apartment where Pete had lived when he was dating Cindy. It was in an exclusive neighborhood on the northeast side of the city. As far as she could tell from the databases she could access on her cell phone, he still lived here. She stared up at the window to the apartment but it was in darkness.

  From what she remembered, Pete had been an early riser and went to bed early. It was now two in the morning and had already been a long day. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel.

  She couldn’t see Adrian’s car anywhere. If she called Pete to warn him about Adrian then she’d tip him off that they knew he’d raped Cindy and had probably been responsible for her friend’s murder. And maybe he was involved in this anthrax thing the FBI was investigating.

  Hatred welled up inside. No way would she let him wriggle out of receiving his full punishment. But she wanted it public. She wanted it legal. She wanted it just.

  She decided to call his old landline and hoped the number hadn’t switched to someone else. She masked caller information so he wouldn’t see who was on the line. She just wanted to know where he was.

  It rang four times before the answering machine kicked in.

  She called again.

  Same lack of response. She sat in the car alone in the dark and suddenly realized what a fool she’d been. What a coward.

  Hunt was investigating biological threats and murder. The fact he’d told her anything at all was a miracle of trust. That alone could cost him his job if his boss found out.

  And she’d gotten scared because life had thrown some hard lessons at her. But shielding her heart by pushing people away didn’t protect her, it just kept everyone on the other side. It kept her alone in the dark in the middle of the night trying to solve her friend’s death when if she hadn’t panicked and run she might be part of a team.

  Loneliness crowded around her.

  She dialed Hunt’s number again and he didn’t pick up. Had he already listened to her first message? The one she’d sent when in her fear she made herself unlovable so it would be easy to push her away?

  She was such a mess.

  She called again and left another message. She tried Pete’s landline one more time but he didn’t answer either. What if he was, at this very moment, trying to escape?

  Her head had started to hurt again and a shiver ran over her shoulders and down her spine. She started the engine and blasted the air to wake herself up.

  She’d take a drive past Pete’s shiny company building and then onto the FBI Field Office and report what she’d learned.

  She doubted she’d get another chance with Hunt but she couldn’t let that get in the way of stopping Adrian from doing anything rash and bringing Pete Dexter to justice.

  * * *

  Hunt tossed down the phone.

  “Anything?” asked Will.

  Hunt shook his head. This was not looking good.

  Will leaned over his desk, mouth tense. Eyes worried.

  Hunt had been furious with his buddy for trying to drive a wedge between him and Pip before they’d even had a chance at a relationship, but Fuller’s disappearance was too serious to hold a grudge. Hunt had gone through Mandy’s desk. She was gonna kill him when she saw the mess he’d made. But there was nothing to indicate where she’d been going that afternoon.

  There was a BOLO out on her car. Local cops had been informed she was missing. Still nothing.

  “She wouldn’t disappear like this,” said Will.

  “You two didn’t have a fight?”

  Will shook his head. “Even if she was pissed with me she wouldn’t avoid me. More the other way around.”

  Hunt’s phone rang. Pip. He gritted his
teeth. He’d listened to her brush off earlier and he was still pissed and fucking hurt and had tried to call her back but she hadn’t picked up. Kindness? She thought he was being fucking ‘kind’? He didn’t have time to deal with her insecurities right now. He’d put his ass on the line for her and she bailed at the first sign of trouble?

  He let the call go to voicemail. He needed to take a step back right now. And maybe she was right. Maybe this thing wasn’t going to work out between them and space would be a smart idea.

  Sure. Whatever.

  “What was the last phone call Fuller received?”

  Will scrubbed his hand over his head. “I asked the switchboard but they don’t know.”

  Hunt had an idea. He called SIOC. Libby Hernandez was still working. This anthrax threat meant everyone was pulling overtime. “We’ve lost an agent.”

  “Lost?” the analyst asked.

  “Mandy Fuller. She’s disappeared. Her boyfriend”—Will pulled a face at the description—“another agent at the Atlanta FO, hasn’t heard from her since this morning. She isn’t home, Bucar’s not there either and we can’t locate it. Her phone is turned off or dead. She wouldn’t go dark like this. She was working the shooting from yesterday.”

  “You mean when someone tried to Swiss cheese your ass and you were saved by a bunch of romance novels?”

  He sighed. “There were some thrillers in there, too.” But this was going to become his FBI legend. He’d get romance novels every time he transferred offices. He’d get romance novels when he retired.

  The craziest thing was he wanted to share the joke with Pip, but she’d run away because she was even more relationship-shy than he was.

  None of it mattered. He was worried. About Mandy. About his career. About this thing with Pip. He knew she was scared. He was fucking scared. Like he didn’t have everything that had ever mattered to him on the line. But Mandy was missing.

  His phone beeped with a text.

  “Last thing Mandy Fuller accessed on her work cell was an address.” Hernandez reeled it off and he wrote it down and handed it to Will. “A truck matching the description of the one that was involved in yesterday’s shooting was reported stolen from this address.”