by Dee Davis
“Hannah called first thing this morning. It wasn’t us.”
“And we didn’t see anyone either,” Annie said. “And I was home most of the afternoon, at least until Adam and I headed out to soccer practice.”
“So someone must have doctored the tapes,” Jason said. “Did you check to see if there were signs of tampering?” It was clear he was still annoyed at being left out of the loop.
“I ran the diagnostics programs and couldn’t find anything.” She shot him an apologetic look and then turned back to Avery. “But I’ve asked Harrison to go over it again. Maybe he’ll find something I missed.”
“Or maybe I should take a look?” Jason suggested.
“Too many chiefs,” Avery said, shaking his head. “Besides, I need you monitoring day-to-day activities. This operation is important, but it isn’t the only thing we’re working on.”
“Got it.” Jason raised a hand and sat back in his chair, clearly accepting the inevitable.
“Anyway,” Hannah continued, “for the moment at least, we’ve got nada on the surveillance.”
“Except that someone managed to spirit my suitcase into the house.” Tyler frowned, the news doing nothing to ease the worry that had been gnawing at her since last night. “What about fingerprints?”
“Nothing solid. Yours, of course. And Nash’s and Annie’s. Jason’s turned up in a couple of places.”
“We’re over at Tyler’s a lot,” Lara said, tilting her head to one side as she watched everyone, her expression hard to read. Lara tended to keep to herself, so much so that it was impossible sometimes to guess what she was thinking. An asset in the field, but a definite liability in a friend.
“We all are,” Nash said, opening his hands as he shrugged.
“What about the suitcase?” Avery asked.
“There was one interesting result, actually,” Hannah said, turning to look at Owen, her eyes blinking owlishly behind her glasses. “Your print was found on the suitcase. On the side. We had a hell of a time pulling a match. It’s not in any of our systems. But you had a glass of water when we met in Avery’s office.”
“And you pulled the print from there,” Owen said, clearly unperturbed by the looks of accusation coming from Emmett and Jason.
“So how did your print get on Tyler’s suitcase?” Emmett asked, his tone protective.
“He helped at the hotel,” she said, shooting him a look for verification. “I know I mentioned we ran into each other.”
“You did,” Avery said, his dark eyes meeting hers. “Which obviously explains the fingerprint. Anything else?”
“There are a couple of partials we haven’t been able to identify—either because there isn’t enough to make a match or because they’re not in the system. We’re checking against airline security to clear anyone who moved the bag in the airport. And we’re also working to enhance the others so that we can confirm identity. Unfortunately, it just takes time.”
Avery nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “What about the doorknob? The one in the kitchen?”
“Just Owen’s prints. Anything else was either wiped clean or his fingers obscured anything else that was there.”
“I’m sorry,” Owen said, raising a hand. “I should have thought to be more careful. I’m afraid my first thought was to get to Tyler.”
“Definitely the right reaction.” Nash nodded approvingly.
“Yes, but now we don’t have any clue who was trying to get in,” Jason said, as he studied Owen.
“I said, sorry,” he repeated.
“For all we know, the door’s been open since before I left,” Tyler said, surprised at her need to protect Owen. “Or maybe the wind blew it open. It slammed a door last night. Scared the hell out of us, actually.”
“Us?” Emmett queried.
“Owen was kind enough to stay with Tyler last night. On my orders.” Avery’s tone brooked no argument.
Emmett shrugged. “Just trying to keep an eye out for Tyler.”
“Thanks.” She smiled over at her friend. “It’s nice to know you’ve got my back.”
“We all do,” he said, his answering smile including the entire company. “Sorry if I came on a bit strong, Owen.”
“No worries.” Owen shrugged. “If you were invading my team I’d be just as suspicious. It only speaks well of all of you. You’re a close-knit unit, and that makes outsiders all the more difficult to suss out. Anyway, Harrison and I are only here to help. For whatever that’s worth.”
“Sounds like we’ve covered all the bases,” Avery said. “But I’d definitely like you to continue with your assessment of the tapes, Harrison. The way I see it someone’s got to have tampered with them to cover up bringing in the suitcase, and quite possibly earlier when they broke in to steal Tyler’s scarf.”
“Unless it was taken at the same time?” Lara suggested.
“A definite possibility,” Avery agreed. “This whole thing has the ring of someone who wants to play with Tyler’s head.”
“Or fuck with us all,” Nash said.
“Also a possibility. Emmett, why don’t you coordinate another search of Tyler’s house. Property included. I want to make sure there isn’t another way in, some way that would avoid being caught on camera.”
“Ever since we had trouble with Annie,” Jason said, “we’ve made certain that the perimeter behind the houses is secure.”
“But the fact remains that I got around it,” she added sheepishly. “And if I could do it—”
“Exactly,” Avery said. “Which is why we need to check every possibility.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it,” Emmett said.
“So what about Petrov?” Avery asked. “Did you find anything new?”
The group listened as Emmett related what he’d already told Tyler.
“So we can’t conclusively say that the attack was predicated by the heist.” Nash frowned.
“Not with the connection to di Silva. His operations have been crippled of late, but that only gives him motive for revenge.”
“But why me?” Tyler asked.
“It was you who blew the stash,” Emmett said. “Hell, maybe he was after all of you.”
“Well let’s keep digging. Jason, you can help Emmett with that.”
Jason nodded, popping up another computer screen.
“All right, then,” Avery said, his gaze encompassing them all, “where are we with forensics at the scene in Colorado?”
“As expected, there weren’t any fingerprints,” Hannah said. “And the Army techs went over everything twice, including the motorcycle.”
“Was it registered?”
“Yes, to a Walker Mason.” Hannah nodded, consulting her notes. “He reported it stolen five days ago. According to the police report, it was taken from his garage. It’s separated from the house and at night basically open to anyone who wants access.”
“What do we know about Mason?” Nash asked.
“He’s local to the area. No warrants or arrests. No record. Nothing to indicate that he’s telling anything but the truth. He’s had the bike for about five years. Kept the license up to date. It’s just too easy to track him down for him to be involved.”
“Unless it’s a smoke screen,” Jason offered.
“We certainly can’t eliminate that possibility,” Hannah began, “but—”
“Actually, we can,” Harrison interrupted. “I just checked and Mason’s alibi is good. Unbreakable actually. His wife was delivering a baby. He was at a hospital in Colorado Springs all night.”
Tyler’s thoughts flew to Roger Mather and his unborn child, her heart constricting. Across the table, Owen’s eyes met hers, his gaze full of sympathy as he followed the train of her thoughts. “There wasn’t anything you could do,” he mouthed.
She nodded, not sure that the words helped, but soothed somehow nevertheless.
“How about the transport truck?” Nash asked. “Has there been any sign of it?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Hannah said. “They found it early this morning. Abandoned on a logging road about twenty-five miles from the scene. Nothing to indicate whether the detonators were transported inside. General Fisher’s men are going over it with a fine-tooth comb. But so far, it’s totally clean.”
“So we’re obviously dealing with professionals,” Avery said to no one in particular.
“What about the scarf?” Owen asked. “Did it turn up?”
“No.” Hannah shook her head apologetically in Tyler’s direction. “And I asked them to search again. There was no sign of it.”
“So we’re saying it wasn’t there?” Lara questioned, her guileless blue eyes trained on Tyler.
“We’re saying nothing of the sort.” Avery shook his head. “Anyone could have taken it. Either before they discovered the heist, or even afterward. Tyler, you said you had it at one point, right?”
“Yeah. I did. But the wind blew it away. So maybe that’s what happened. It just got caught on the breeze.”
“Or maybe it’s just another way to play with your head,” Emmett suggested.
“I’d say it’s a definite possibility.” Avery turned to Harrison. “Any chance you can find out if anyone has been asking questions about Tyler’s mother’s death? Maybe the police? Or the newspapers that covered it at the time?”
“Not a problem,” Harrison said. “I should be able to have some answers within the hour.”
“One other thing,” Hannah reported, her face scrunched up as she considered her words. “The damage to the railing was definitely fresh. But it couldn’t have come from the motorcycle. The indentations were too high. More consistent with a larger vehicle.”
“Like a car?” Annie queried.
“Or small truck,” Hannah agreed with a nod. “And the skid marks were all wrong, too. Not the same size as the motorcycle tires. And from the photographs, while it matches the railing damage, it doesn’t work with the way the motorcycle was positioned. And the tire tread doesn’t match either.”
“I should have seen that.” Tyler clenched her fists, angry at herself for missing so obvious a clue.
“Blinding glimpse of the obvious,” Emmett offered. “We see what we want to see.”
His words echoed Owen’s, and without volition she turned to him, seeking some kind of absolution.
“Emmett’s right.” Owen nodded, his dark eyes gentle. “In the heat of the moment, it’s hard to see everything.”
She could tell that he’d meant what he said, but somehow it still wasn’t enough to make the knot in her gut go away.
“There’s no point in rehashing the past,” Avery admonished. “Those detonators are on the move, and our only hope of finding them is to dig deep and move quickly. What about the chatter? Anything new there?”
“The boards are lighting up,” Jason said. “But nothing definitive. Just talk about the heist. No hint at all as to who might be behind it.”
Hannah nodded her agreement. “And the investigation into General Fisher and the men with Tyler are no-gos as well. They’ve all got clean records, with no skeletons to hide.”
“Everyone has skeletons,” Lara put in.
“Well, if they do, they’re got them buried pretty deeply. I checked phone records, bank accounts, police files. All the usual sources. There was nothing to sound an alarm.”
“Somewhere out there, there’s got to be a clue,” Tyler said, her frustration crescendoing. “We’ve just got to find it.”
“And we will. It just takes time,” Hannah assured her.
“Time, we don’t have,” Annie said, her words echoing all of their thoughts as a cell phone on the table next to Hannah began to ring.
“Excuse me,” Hannah mouthed, as she headed to the corner.
“One good thing,” Avery interjected, pulling their attention away from the phone call. “The protocols for the detonators weren’t on the truck, which will make it damn difficult for anyone to use them.”
“Yes, but from what I can tell,” Jason added, looking up from his computer, “there weren’t any fail-safes to protect them either. Someone with the right clearance could easily have lifted them off a computer—secure or otherwise.”
“So you’re saying anyone could have access. With the right connections, I mean.” Harrison sighed, typing something into his computer.
“Obviously, the defense lab’s security has been tightened since the theft, but there was definitely a window of opportunity,” Jason said. “Both before and immediately after the detonators were taken.”
“I’ve got news,” Hannah said with a frown, as she rejoined the group, “That was Langley. They’ve managed to track down the source of the original order for A-Tac’s involvement.”
“And…” Avery prompted.
“It isn’t good.” Hannah’s gaze moved to Tyler’s. “It seems that the original request came from your father.”
CHAPTER 9
McLean, Virginia
Still nothing?” Owen asked as they drove down a street in her father’s neighborhood. “No.” Tyler shook her head, disconnecting her cell phone. “And it’s odd. I told her I’d call when the plane landed.”
Tyler had contacted her stepmother as soon as Hannah’s pronouncement had sunk in. She’d explained that she needed to talk to her father and that she’d be on the next plane. Della tried to dissuade her, arguing that her father was having a particularly bad spell, rambling on about debts of honor and how this wasn’t a good time. But Tyler had insisted. And Della had acquiesced, saying that her father had been asking for her anyway.
In short order, Hannah and Jason had everything ar-ranged. At Avery’s insistence, Owen was accompanying her. And although she’d protested Owen’s coming at first—partly because she hadn’t wanted company and partly because it was Owen—now that they were almost there, she had to admit she was glad to have him along for moral support.
“Maybe they’ve gone out and just aren’t getting reception,” Owen said, pulling her from her tumbling thoughts. “Or maybe they’re out in the garden.”
The idea of her father doing yard work was laughable, but it was just easier to agree. “I suppose it’s possible,” she replied, looking out the window, unable to shake her worry. “It’s just that this is all sort of overwhelming. You know? And I told her to stay put. She knows this is important—even if she doesn’t know why.”
“But she’d also have known it would be hours before we could get here. Maybe there was a doctor’s appointment or something.”
“I suppose you’re right. And I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation for my father’s involvement. But at the moment, I’ve haven’t got a clue what it could be. Turn left here,” she said, nodding toward the upcoming intersection.
Twenty minutes outside of D.C., McLean was a gentrified area for Washington insiders. The homes were both large and elegant with immaculate lawns, and all the other accoutrements of wealth. Tyler’d been surprised when her father had decided to retire here. But she figured it had been Della who’d pressed him into it. She’d always had a penchant for living high off the hog.
Her father’s house was one of the smallest on the block, but it was as lovely as any of its neighbors—Federal style with green shutters and double doors. Stately trees studded the front yard, their leaves shimmying in the wind. They pulled up at the curb, and Tyler frowned. “That’s my father’s car in the driveway.”
“Maybe I was right about the garden. Or maybe they took the other car. I assume Della has one?”
“Of course.” She smiled, despite her unease. “This is America. We’re crazy about our cars.”
“And conspicuous consumption.” He nodded toward the house as he turned off the engine.
“Well, that’s more Della than my father. She has certain ideas when it comes to their public persona. But like I said,” Tyler shrugged, “she makes him happy.”
“Are you an only child?” he asked as they stepped out of the rental ca
r.
“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “Quite the opposite actually. I have an assortment of stepsiblings, most of whom I’ve never even met. My father didn’t exactly inspire familial loyalty. And then there’s my half-brother, Mark. Della’s his mom. He’s in grad school at Johns Hopkins and he’s a good guy. I’m probably as close to him as anyone in the family. I guess we bonded over our dysfunction.”
“Do you see him often?”
“Unfortunately, no. Between my work with the unit and his studies, it’s hard to get together—but we talk when we can. And being apart doesn’t change the way I feel about him.”
“Does he know what you do?”
“Not specifically, no. Neither does Della. They know I work for the government, but that’s all. It’s just easier that way. But my dad knows.” She could just imagine Della telling everyone at her bridge parties about her stepdaughter the spy.
“I’m surprised you got permission to tell your dad. My father hasn’t a clue.”
“Well, it was kind of hard to keep it from him. At one point, his clearance was higher than mine.”
“I can see where that would make it a necessity.”
“Actually, it didn’t go down well. My father is old school. Little woman in the home and all that. Makes me a bit of a black sheep. But somewhere in that hard head of his, I know he’s proud of me. Still, it makes it all that much more odd that he’d request my involvement in the transport.”
“We don’t know that he requested you. Just that he requested A-Tac.”
“Except that the logical person to be involved is the munitions expert. Which would be me. And my father knew that. I told you he’s a very smart man. At least when his mind is all there.”
As they approached the front steps, Owen stopped and pointed, nodding toward the front doors. “Do they usually leave them open?”
“No.” She shook her head, keeping her voice low, as she reached for her gun. “Della’s something of a security freak. She has locks for her locks.”
Owen produced his weapon and the two of them moved cautiously up onto the porch. Two large pots of chrysanthemums flanked the open doors, their gaiety a stark contrast to the splintered casing of the door.