Covert Evidence

by Rachel Grant

  “There’s a part of me,” Ian said to Cressida, “that wouldn’t be bothered if Hill lives and escapes, because the people he’s double-crossed in the Middle East will slit his throat without a fuss, whereas he might be rich and connected enough to escape prosecution here. Hejan made sure he was a dead man no matter what.”

  “Do you think Hejan realized he was the group leader? He was, after all, in the bar that night. And given that Hejan was working with Todd to find the tunnel, there were too many connections for Hill’s secret to stay hidden.”

  “It’s possible. He might have figured it all out and then plotted his revenge, knowing the dominos would fall after his death.” He held her gaze, knowing this would be hard for her to hear after what she’d witnessed on the boat. “Hill killed Hejan when he discovered Hejan had taken the money. Todd was hiding in your hotel room bathroom and witnessed the whole thing. Tonight, Hill shot Todd because he guessed that Todd tipped me off to what Hill is.”

  She gave him a sad smile. “You called him Todd.”

  “Because that’s who he is to you. He fucked up a lot. But in the end, it appears he was trying to save you. To right his mistakes.”

  She nodded. “I hope he recovers. He was in over his head the moment he contacted Hill. He had no idea what the man was—obviously, none of us did—and by the time he found out, it was too late for him.” She sighed. “Where’s Zack?”

  “I don’t know. He may have fled, or he may try to claim he was just following orders, but with Hill’s capture, I don’t think that’ll fly.”

  “And Suzanne? Is she okay?”

  Ian turned to Sean, “Did your team find Suzanne?”

  Sean nodded. “Good job getting her off the boat. She’s safe now. As soon as the FBI takes over on the yacht, we’ll get her to a hospital.”

  “So what happens next?” Cressida asked Ian.

  “I’ll be taken in for debriefing. You’ll get a room at The Hay-Adams and wait for me. We both hope the mess in Turkey is sorted out without me being charged with all sorts of awful things I didn’t do.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  He tightened his arms around her. “I think you said something when we were in the water that I’d like to hear again.”

  “I was reminding you of your promise to take me to The Hay-Adams.”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it was after that.”

  She smiled and stroked his cheek. “I love you, Ian Boyd.”

  He kissed her, amazed and grateful they were both alive. Together. And in the US. A circumstance he’d seriously doubted would come about. “That’s what I thought you said.”

  The boat surged across the water, and even though Ian knew an interrogation awaited him at the other side, he couldn’t wait to reach shore. He was eager to get the debriefing over with, because for the first time in his life, he had a reason to hurry home.

  Epilogue

  Washington, DC

  September

  Cressida waited outside CIA headquarters. A crisp wind brushed her cheeks, making her wonder how the season had turned so quickly. The leaves had yet to change colors, but still, fall was in the air. She glanced at her watch. Today was supposed to be a simple formality, but it was taking too long.

  Finally, Ian stepped out of the building, and she caught her breath as she took in the sight of him, always reminded of her first glimpse across the terminal in Antalya. The man was, quite simply, gorgeous, but that was a rather shallow method for judging a person, really. So instead, she chose to judge him on his actions and quickly ran out of fingers and toes to list the ways in which he’d protected her, defended her, and, in the end, loved her.

  “It’s official. John Baker is dead,” he said and dropped a kiss on her lips.

  “Long live Ian Boyd.” She linked her arm in his. “So, do we have a wake or a party?”

  “I’m Scottish. Aren’t they the same thing?”

  “I thought that was an Irish wake.”

  “Admittedly, I’m more familiar with Middle Eastern customs.”

  “Oh, so we get to teach Ian how to be a good Scottish American, do we?” she said in a really bad brogue.

  Ian laughed, a full, head-back, facing-the-sun, free laugh, something he did with more and more regularity as they settled into their life together. She loved making him laugh. But then, she pretty much loved everything about him.

  “The deputy director asked me to stay on as an analyst again.”

  “Are you considering it?”

  “No. Not even when the director resigns.” The director had been the one who’d recruited Patrick Hill—who, they’d learned in the last weeks, had been a CIA informant, which was how his dealings with foreign terrorists and arms dealers had been noted but not investigated over the years. To save face for harboring—and possibly even creating—the biggest US traitor in CIA history, the director had sought a public explanation that exonerated Hill while throwing Ian under a bus.

  They’d also learned that when Hill’s previous handler retired, Zack—who remained at large—had been tapped as his replacement. Zack was far more astute than his predecessor and caught on to Hill’s activities. Instead of turning him in, however, Zack had demanded a cut. So Hill put Zack to work, ensuring the CIA case officer was in too deep to betray him.

  Fortunately, the FBI was more interested in the truth than covering for the CIA director, and it was only a matter of time before the director would be forced to step down and Zack would be found and prosecuted.

  Hill had survived the helicopter crash and was in custody awaiting trial. Todd had undergone multiple surgeries to repair the damage from the gunshot wound. He was expected to recover and would likely receive a reduced sentence in exchange for testifying against Hill.

  “I’m going to tell Keith I’ll take the deputy director’s offer,” Ian continued, “unless Raptor offers me a signing bonus and lets me delay my start date until November.”

  “Negotiating is a game to you, isn’t it?”

  He pressed their clasped hands into the small of her back and swung her around to face him. His lips were an inch from hers as he murmured, “Yep.” Then he kissed her, holding nothing back even though they were in front of CIA headquarters in the middle of the day.

  “Rent a room, Boyd,” a man said as he walked past.

  Cressida and Ian broke apart in laughter. “Do you know him?” she asked.

  Ian glanced at the man’s back as he strode toward the entrance. “Nope.” Then he kissed her nose and said, “And it’s not just because I like yanking Keith’s chain. With your job at NHHC delayed until late October, I was thinking we should enjoy the time off together. Maybe go visit your mother.”

  “Or try to find yours?” she asked softly. It was a suggestion, not a push.

  “Not yet, Cress. But someday, yeah.”

  “Okay.” They resumed walking. “I got a call while you were inside. Erica is throwing a going away party for Undine, since she’s leaving for the underwater excavation in the Strait of Juan de Fuca next week.”

  “A dinner party?”

  “Yes. I said we’d be there. But if you aren’t comfortable, I can go alone. I know it’ll be weird, with Keith being your boss and all. And Erica will be mine when I start at NHHC.”

  “No. It’s not that. It’s just…I’ve never been to a dinner party before. I mean, as Ian. John went to many, but he always had an agenda, information he wanted, or a person he wanted to recruit.”

  “Well, if it’s more fun for you, we could pretend the party is a covert op…”

  He laughed again, and again she felt a warm buzz. “No. I like having friends and don’t want to mess that up.”

  They reached their car, and instead of unlocking the doors, Ian pressed her against the side of the vehicle and kissed her, slow, long, and deep, then he said against her lips, “But you know what I like even more than having friends?”

  “What?” she whispered, staring into his intent warm gray eyes.

/>   “That when I’m with you, I know I’ve found home.”

  Author’s Note

  In the late nineties, my husband worked for the underwater archaeology branch of Naval History and Heritage Command (then called the Naval Historical Center) at the Washington Navy Yard in Washington, DC. While he was there, he was asked by one of the historians to help move an old armored file cabinet, which had been classified as top secret sometime after World War II. The keys to the cabinet had long since been lost, and no one knew what was inside, nor did anyone really care beyond idle speculation, as the contents were likely to be so outdated as to be irrelevant to today’s US Navy. The cabinet was merely a nuisance as it got in the staff’s way and was moved from cubicle to cubicle over the years.

  To the best of my knowledge, the file cabinet remains locked and forgotten at NHHC; this story is simply my speculation at what treasures could be inside.

  Also, while it is true that T. E. Lawrence excavated at Carchemish on the Turkish/Syrian border in 1911 and again in 1914, and he also worked on an expedition on the Sinai Peninsula in 1914 as a cover for British Intelligence, to the best of my knowledge he never conducted archaeological survey or excavation along the border near the Turkish city of Cizre. His role in this story is completely fictional.

  Thank you for reading Covert Evidence. I hope you enjoyed it!

  If you’d like to know when my next book is available, you can sign up for my new release mailing list at www.Rachel-Grant.net. You can also follow me on Twitter or like my Facebook page. I’m also on Goodreads, where you can see what I’m currently reading.

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  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to my agent, Elizabeth Winick Rubinstein, for your untiring enthusiasm and support for this project, and for the insightful feedback that forced me to dig deep and find the emotional core of this story. Working with you makes me a better writer.

  Thank you to Elisabeth Naughton and Joan Swan, who originally plotted this story with me in a hotel room in Bellevue. Later I met in another hotel room with Darcy Burke and Elisabeth, for an intensive writing weekend, where I wrote the shower scene and other chapters in that section of the book. That weekend the three of us made a pact to include a certain line of dialogue in our sex scenes, and I can now say I’ve held up my end of the deal.

  Darcy Burke, aside from inspiring the dialogue pact, I have so much to thank you for, but the most important of which is to thank you for being a great and dear friend. I am so lucky to have you not just as a critique partner, but as a person whose friendship goes far beyond our writing world.

  Kris Kennedy thank you for your timely and wise critique of an early draft of this manuscript. I would have been lost without you!

  Thank you to Gary and Gayle for providing the venue for an amazing retreat where I edited this book in the company of three of the finest authors in the universe: Darcy Woods, Bria Quinlan (AKA Caitie Quinn), and Jenn Stark (AKA Jennifer Chance). Thank you, ladies for sharing that wonderful week with me, and talking me through the rewrites of the final action scene. I need more #MIMayhem and shenanigans!

  Jenn Stark, thank you for being available online so I could pester you for immediate feedback when a scene needs help. If you ever block me, I’m doomed.

  Thank you to Toni Anderson for the wonderful cover quote and the helpful feedback. And for writing fantastic romantic suspense – I am a total Toni Anderson fangirl! (Read on for a sneak peek at Toni’s fabulous new release!)

  Thank you to the Northwest Pixies, our annual retreat always refreshes and inspires me, not to mention that thanks to Rebecca Clark’s coaching, I always go home with less writing-related backaches than when I arrived. Becky, I need you to move in with me. I will make you chocolate martinis whenever you want.

  To my editor, Linda Ingmanson, thank you so much for not only copy editing this book, but for beta reading an earlier draft. I so appreciate the continuity you bring to this series and am thankful for your proofreader’s sharp attention to detail. I’ll try to work on my commas and dangling modifiers. I promise.

  Thank you to my children just for being you.

  Lastly, as I end the acknowledgments in every book, thank you to my husband, David Grant. Thank you for telling me about that old file cabinet at NHHC and for everything you do, but mostly thank you for being the love of my life.

  Read the first chapter of New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Toni Anderson’s Cold Justice Series, Cold Fear.

  (All books stand alone.)

  Cold Fear (Cold Justice Series #4)

  by Toni Anderson

  Copyright © 2015

  ISBN: 978-0-9939089-6-5

  A relentless FBI profiler hunts a vicious killer.

  When old evidence turns up on a fresh corpse, ASAC Lincoln Frazer is determined it won’t delay the execution of a convicted serial killer. But when more young women are brutally slain, it becomes clear—this new killer is intimately familiar with the old murders.

  A dedicated emergency physician hides a dark secret.

  Former Army Captain Dr. Isadora Campbell helped her mother conceal a terrible crime. After her mother’s death, Izzy resigned her commission and returned to the Outer Banks to raise her rebellious teenage sister. But it doesn’t take long for Izzy to suspect that someone knows exactly what she did, all those years ago.

  If they work together, maybe no one else will die.

  With pressure mounting to reopen the old case, Frazer will use any means possible to catch the killer. Thrust together during the investigation, he and Izzy find themselves reluctantly attracted to one another, and begin an affair. Meanwhile the killer is much closer than they think. Izzy’s confession of her secret drives Frazer away as he struggles with her deception. By the time he realizes he’s fallen in love with the stubborn woman, the killer has her. Now the race is on to save Izzy, and any chance of a future they might have together.

  Chapter One

  Helena Cromwell allowed herself to be dragged toward the top of the tallest dune that edged the northern tip of Crane Island.

  “Where are we going?” she demanded.

  “You’ll see. Come on, scaredy cat.” Jesse Tyson, high school quarterback and her crush of the last six months, had to shout to be heard over the noise of the storm.

  “It’s too dark to see anything.” That was a lie. It was pitch black, but her eyes had adjusted to the night and the full moon provided short blasts of silvery light that lit up the world whenever the clouds parted for more than a few seconds.

  A shadow moved in the periphery of her vision, and she whipped her head around, jerking to a stop.

  “Did you see something?” she yelled.

  Jesse tried to pull her forward, but she dug in her heels. Was someone out there? A shiver tip-tapped down her spine. She peered hard into the night, but when the moon reappeared there was only blowing sand and violently lashing grass.

  “There’s no one there. Come on, Helena,” Jesse insisted.

  Of course there was no one there. It must have been a trick of the light, or the storm making her nerves dance like Mexican jumping beans. She let Jesse drag her another few steps. No one else would be crazy enough to be out here in this weather, especially on New Year’s Eve—she rolled her eyes. This was a stupid idea, and if her dad found out she was here, or that she’d lied about being at Kit’s tonight, he’d kill her.

  “Where’s your sense of adventure?” Jesse taunted.

  “Same place yours is gonna be if our parents find out where we are and what we’re doing,” she grumbled.

  “We haven’t done anything, yet.” Jesse’s dark eyes glistened in the darkness.

  Her heart gave a little flutter, and she swallowed hard. Oh, my. And that was why she was out on the dunes even though she knew better.

  The fact th
ey’d both been drinking alcohol wouldn’t go over well, either. Not that her dad was ever going to find out. He’d ground her for a year, and it wasn’t just because she’d lied about where she was going, or was out with a boy. No one was supposed to be on the dunes at Parson’s Point. Her dad worked for Land Management at the Department of Natural Resources and took this kind of trespassing very seriously. The area was part of a stabilization experiment they were conducting to try and protect the Outer Banks from further erosion.

  She knew the spiel by heart. If he found out it wouldn’t matter that she was his daughter, in fact, that would make the punishment worse.

  The hand that pulled her along was confident and strong, not allowing her to balk or change her mind. She started to slip backward in the loose sand, but Jesse grasped her tighter and hauled her with him. She couldn’t help but be impressed by all those gorgeous muscles.

  Together they staggered over the top of the beach ridge and slid down the other side, sand flying in every direction. She squealed with fright when they stumbled to their knees in the valley between dunes. Then she started giggling hysterically.

  “Idiot.” She shoved his arm.

  Jesse took both her hands in his, and she could feel him staring at her in the darkness. For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her but instead he flashed her a grin—the one that had all the girls in high school swooning—and pulled her to her feet. They climbed up the next, shorter dune and landed near the top, lying side-by-side in the sand. Something dug into her thigh, and she shifted away from it, closer to Jesse.

  The wind howled, and she shivered.

  “You cold?”

  It was now officially January and blowing a frickin’ gale. “A little.”