Tender Is The Night (Callaways Book 10)

by Barbara Freethy

  He frowned. "For about thirty seconds."

  She smiled. "You hate to be wrong, don't you?"

  "I'm guessing you share the same attitude."

  "Well, so far tonight you're the only one who has been wrong, so I don't actually know what being wrong feels like."

  "You're wrong if you think chasing Sam's killer is a pointless exercise."

  She met his gaze. "I haven't made that assumption yet. I'm still gathering the facts."

  As he reached for the door handle, she frowned and said, "Wait. Where are you going? I thought we were watching the door."

  "We'll wait for him inside. It's more comfortable, and I could use a drink."

  "You drink on the job?"

  "One of the perks of working for myself now. Come on, I'll buy you a beer." He paused. "You're not going to tell me you don't drink, are you?"

  "Since I met you twenty minutes ago, I've actually been thinking a lot about having a drink—or two," she said dryly.

  For the first time, a glimmer of a smile crossed his lips. "I'd like to tell you that feeling will go away once you get to know me."

  "But it won't?"

  "Looks like we're going to find out."

  Two

  Okay, so Kate Callaway was not only attractive, she was also quick-witted and a bit of a smart ass. Maybe the Bureau had finally decided to hire some people who didn't have to do everything by the book.

  On the other hand, she could be playing him. Hal had obviously sent her to assess the situation as an impartial, objective party. Kate needed to make friends with him so she could determine if he was as crazy as everyone thought he was. While it might be amusing to crank up the crazy for her, he had more important priorities, like finding Sam's killer.

  The darkness of that thought squeezed his heart. It had been a year and a half since she'd died, since he'd let her down, but the pain felt as raw and as real as if it were yesterday. Breathing through the sudden tightness in his chest, he opened the door for Kate and waved her inside the club.

  She gave him a surprised look, as if that gesture of chivalry was completely out of character. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who'd made a quick judgment.

  He led her over to a table at the back of the room. A dozen or so people were in the bar, and mostly seated near the center stage, where a busty redhead was performing.

  A quick scan of the room told him that the man he was waiting for had not yet arrived. Usually Russell Walton hit the club between six and seven, so he should be walking in sometime in the next hour.

  "What does he look like?" Kate asked. "The man we're waiting for."

  He pulled up a photo on his phone and showed it to her.

  "Good-looking guy," she said. "I wouldn't think he'd need to come to a seedy strip club to find a woman."

  "Maybe this feels more private to him. His friends probably don't come here."

  "What's his name?"

  "Russell Walton."

  "What does his wife look like?"

  He flipped through a few more photos and showed her one of the couple taken at a party. "This is Brenda Walton."

  "She's attractive, too. Does he really think he's going to do better here?"

  He shrugged. "Can't say."

  "I don't get why Brenda came to you instead of just confronting her husband or following him herself."

  "She thought she'd make him suspicious and then she'd never know the truth, but I think the real reason is that she didn't want to find him with another woman."

  "That wouldn't be easy, but at least she'd know for sure what was going on," Kate said.

  He slipped his phone back in his pocket as a waitress came over to take their drink order. He ordered a beer, with Kate doing the same.

  When they were alone again, Kate said, "So, while we're waiting…let's talk. How did you and Sam get on the arson case in the first place?"

  "There had been a series of fires involving historically significant and federally owned buildings here in the city. Sam and I were called in to help with the investigation. Sam was a more experienced arson investigator than I was. She'd been working with that unit for several years."

  "I was wondering how you got involved since before that you were working on domestic terrorism."

  "You're right. I'd spent almost a year tracking a couple of terrorist cells around the country. We were finally able to put them away. It had been a long assignment, and I was looking for something different, a change of pace. Sam suggested I come out and work with her. At that point, there was some concern the fires were also related to terrorism, so she thought having me on the case would be helpful."

  "Did you ever find a terrorist link?"

  "No, I don't believe terrorism is the objective of this particular arsonist. And neither did Sam." He paused, needing Kate to understand just good Sam was. "Sam was one of the most intuitive people I've ever met. She had a sense for what made people tick. She understood motivation better than anyone. It made her a good profiler."

  Kate sat back as the waitress set down two beer bottles and a small bowl of peanuts.

  "Food, yay, I'm starving," Kate muttered, reaching for a handful.

  "You want something else to eat?"

  "This will do for now. We're not going to be here that long, are we?"

  "We'll see how long it takes for Russell to show up."

  "I'm surprised you take any time away from the fire case. Agent Roman told me you are very…determined."

  He smiled at her careful choice of words. "Is that how he described it?"

  She smiled. "He might have used a different word or two."

  "I'm sure he did. I lived and breathed the case the first few months after I left the Bureau, but I had to wait for the arsonist to strike again, to come back out of whatever hole that they had crawled into. In the meantime, I had to pay my bills. So I became a private investigator."

  "Why did you ask Agent Roman for help now?"

  "Because the arsonist has resurfaced. Two days ago, there was a fire at a school. That's how the trio of fires always starts. They begin small; a fire in a Dumpster or a shed, not particularly dangerous but still destructive. The second fire has always taken place at a community center of some sort, usually within a three-mile radius of the school. It's bigger, bolder, hotter. The third fire is the grand finale and has always involved a structure listed on the historic register. There have been varying degrees of damage and some injuries, but the last fire took two lives."

  "What does the local arson investigative unit have to say?" she asked.

  "Nothing. They closed the case along with the FBI eighteen months ago. I've tried to get their attention since then. I've been down there several times. I've contacted everyone at every level in the department, and no one was willing to help. These days I can't get past the receptionist. They're not interested in what I have to say. Even after this latest fire, they wouldn't return my call. That's why I asked for Hal's help."

  "Did you ever speak with my cousin—Emma Callaway Harrison? She's an arson investigator here in the city."

  "No. While Sam and I were on the case, our contact was Karl Benzinger. After Sam died, I also worked with Benzinger's boss, Mick Young."

  "We should talk to Emma."

  "If you can get me in the door, I'd be happy to do that," he returned.

  "So now you can see how helpful I might be," she said, a small smile playing across her lips.

  "I'm not in the door yet."

  "I want to look through every file you have before we talk to Emma."

  "I'll show you everything."

  "I wish we didn't have to hang out here. I'm eager to get started."

  He had to admit her words were a refreshing change. "Why are you so eager?" he asked curiously. "This can't be the kind of case you want to work on. If you work for Hal Roman, then you're not involved with arson."

  "No, I'm not usually, but I'm game for anything, and when I get an assignment, I dive in. It doesn't matter what it is
."

  "You are new," he said with a sigh. It felt like a lifetime since he'd been that enthusiastic.

  "I can't change my age or how long I've been on the job. So if you want my help, you need to get over that."

  "I don't believe Hal really sent you here to help me. He just wants you to confirm that there is nothing to help with. And I'm sure he sent you, Kate, because he didn't want to waste the time of a more seasoned and valuable agent."

  She winced at his direct words. "Thanks for that."

  "Just telling it like it is. And you already knew that."

  "You're very cynical."

  "You will be, too, if you stay with the Bureau. If I could give you one piece of advice, it would be to get out now before you change into someone you don't even recognize, before you lose your heart and your soul in a job that in the end is nothing more than work. You're not going to save the world. You might not even be able to save one person. You think you're living the dream, but for most people it turns into a nightmare."

  His words came out with a reckless passion that he wished he'd been able to repress, but there was something about her wide-eyed optimism that pushed all the wrong buttons.

  She gave him a thoughtful look, then said, "I think we have something else in common besides our desire to always be right, Devin."

  "What's that?"

  "We're both bad at taking advice."

  He had to give her credit for taking his curveball and hitting it out of the park. He tipped his bottle to her. "Nice."

  She gave him a half smile. "Did I mention I have three older brothers, two sisters, and a humongous family who like to give me advice every time I turn around? You're not going to scare me away, not from this assignment or from the job I've wanted to do since I was eleven years old."

  "Eleven, huh? What happened at eleven?"

  "Nothing." She averted her gaze as she sipped her beer. "Two men just came in. Is one of them Russell Walton?"

  He glanced toward the new customers. "No." He gazed back at her. "What happened when you were eleven, Kate?"

  "I already told you—"

  "No, you didn't," he interrupted. "You can't keep it from me. It's in your file. Everyone who goes through Quantico is interviewed extensively about their background and motivation for becoming a special agent. And even if it's not in your file, it still wouldn't take me more than fifteen minutes to figure it out. A little Internet research, and I'd come up with an answer. Something happened to you or to someone you knew when you were eleven."

  She let out a little sigh. "Fine. I was walking home from school with my best friend, Melissa, when her father kidnapped her. He'd been beating up on Melissa and her mother for years, and her mom had finally kicked him out and gotten a restraining order, but there he was. Usually, there were plenty of people around, but not that day. I was right there when he jumped out of a van, grabbed her and threw her inside. I heard her screams in my head and saw her terrified face pressed against the window for a very long time."

  His stomach turned over. He'd worked a lot of child kidnappings over the years, and the story never got easier to hear. "Was she rescued?"

  Kate nodded. "Two days later. The FBI tracked them to a dive motel in Idaho. I remember when they brought her home. A female agent held Melissa's hand as they got out of the car. I was so happy to see her safe. The whole neighborhood was there. When that agent handed Melissa to her mother, I thought I'd like to be her. I'd like to bring a missing kid home, make someone's family whole again."

  "So you've got a hero complex."

  "I don't have a complex anything," she said with a frown. "That incident was the seed of my motivation, but over the years I took time to figure out what I wanted to do with my life."

  "It doesn't sound like you considered other options."

  "I did, but law enforcement called to me. It wasn't just Melissa's kidnapping that influenced me. The Callaways are big on public service. All the kids are raised with the idea that it's important to give back, to serve the community, and I thought the FBI would be a great fit for me. I wasn't wrong. I'm good at what I do, and I like it."

  "So now you're living the dream," he said dryly, waving his hand at the striptease going on at the other end of the room.

  "At the moment, I'm living your dream, not mine," she retorted. "Why did you want to be an agent, Devin? And before you say you had no reason, let me remind you that I could also probably figure it out in about fifteen minutes, too, so why not save me the time?"

  "My dad was FBI," he said. "I went into the family business."

  "Really?" Surprise filled her gaze. "I didn't know that."

  "Hal didn't give you my file?"

  "He only gave me the case file, not yours, and no one mentioned to me that you were a legacy agent."

  "My father died when I was fourteen. That was twenty years ago. Only a few people at the Bureau would remember him now."

  "And one of those few is Hal Roman?"

  He nodded. "My father was Hal's mentor. They were good friends. Hal encouraged me to follow in my dad's footsteps."

  "Now I understand why Hal wanted me to help you."

  "If he really wanted to help me, he would have sent someone more experienced." He lifted the bottle of beer to his lips, wondering how the conversation had gotten so personal. It was his fault. He'd pressed Kate for information, and she'd come right back at him. He'd learned one thing about her. Despite what she'd told him, she did want to be a hero and while that wasn't necessarily bad, sometimes it was dangerous, and sometimes he was guilty of the same desire.

  Like maybe now…

  He shoved that thought out of his head. He didn't want to be a hero. He wanted to get justice, which was completely different.

  He straightened in his seat as his subject walked through the door. Russell Walton wore a navy blue suit, a maroon-striped silk tie knotted around his neck. He fit right in with the other businessmen looking for after-work entertainment.

  "Is that him?" Kate asked.

  He nodded, taking out his phone and placing it on the table, so he was ready to take the shots he would need.

  Russell walked down toward the stage and took a seat at an empty table right in front. He ordered a drink, then took out a bill and placed it in the dancer's thong as she shook her ass in his face.

  "Looks like he's here to play," Devin murmured. "Hopefully with someone besides the talent."

  "What if no one else comes? Maybe he just comes here to watch the show and then goes home."

  "If that's the case, I'll tell his wife that." He discreetly snapped a few shots of Russell at his empty table. "But I don't think he's going to be alone for long. His credit card receipts appeared to be for more than one person." He'd no sooner finished speaking when a woman walked into the bar. She hesitated in the dark entry as if she were looking for someone, and then she made her way down to Russell's table.

  Russell got up, took her hand and kissed her on the cheek. Then they sat down at the table.

  "Wow, that was hot," Kate said dryly. "I think I'm going to need another drink to cool me off."

  He frowned at her mocking smile. "It's early yet." But as he watched the two talk, it struck him that there was something off about the way they were sitting, talking, smiling at each other.

  "She's not having an affair with him," Kate said. "She's not acting intimate."

  "Maybe she needs a drink to warm up."

  "No, she's not looking at him like a lover—more like a conspirator."

  "Which would back up an affair."

  "Or something else."

  As much as he hated to admit Kate might be right, he couldn't deny that his own instincts were telling him exactly the same thing.

  "Women lean toward the men they're sleeping with," Kate continued. "They put their hand on their lover's arm or their leg. They give their man a little smile as if they're remembering what went on the night before or the last time they were together."

  "Did they teach you
that at Quantico?"

  "They didn't have to. I'm a woman. I know when a woman is interested in a man in a sexual way and that is not the case with those two."

  He wanted to disagree, but he couldn't. Instead, he snapped the woman's photo, and then ran it through an app on his phone for facial recognition. It wasn't as in-depth as what the police department or the FBI could do, but if the woman's face had been on the Internet in the past few months, the app would pick her out.

  A moment later, he had more than one result. "Lily Holbright, owner of Lily Bright Beauty Products—whatever that is."

  "It's a hot new makeup company. Lily Holbright is a former makeup artist to the stars. My sister, Annie, is a big fan of the products. She gives me something every year to encourage me to wear more makeup."

  Looking at Kate's clear skin, bright blue eyes, and naturally pink lips, he didn't think she needed anything to enhance her beauty, but what did he know? Maybe it was all a makeup illusion.

  Kate glanced toward the couple by the stage. "I wonder if Lily knows Russell's wife. You said Brenda Walton sells beauty products. They're in the same industry. But I still don't think Russell and Lily are having an affair. So what else could they be doing together? And why would they be doing it here?"

  Kate's questions echoed his own. He had to admit she was a quick thinker.

  As Lily got up and headed toward the restrooms, Kate said, "I think I'll use the restroom, too."

  "Don't talk to her. I don't want you to scare her off."

  "Don't worry. I know what I'm doing."

  Kate was already out of her chair and walking across the room before he could think of a good reason to call her back.

  He turned his attention to Russell. The man pulled out his phone and appeared to text someone with a smile of satisfaction. Then he set the phone down and smiled up at the woman seductively dancing on the stage in front of him. Whatever Russell was up to, the man was clearly enjoying the show. He didn't seem to be aware of anything but the half-naked woman in front of him.

  Acting on instinct, Devin got up and walked toward Russell's table. Russell didn't even glance in his direction. It was child's play to pocket Russell's phone on his way to the bar. As he waited for the bartender, he glanced back at Russell. The man was so caught up in the woman in front of him, he hadn't a clue his phone was gone.