Only Obsession (Rogue Security Book 3)

by Marissa Garner

  He proudly surveyed the room. Yeah, the new name fit. With a smile of satisfaction, he sat down at one of the tables and got to work.

  An hour later, Jake had a good handle on Elle Bradley and Luke Johnson. He’d checked their credit reports, criminal records, birth records, financial accounts, driving records, and job histories. Searching online had also uncovered a wealth of information beyond what Ms. Bradley’s page on the USA Report site revealed about her, but surprisingly, she didn’t have a personal website to promote herself and her work.

  But what he really wanted to know was the status of the investigation into her kidnapping. Burke had said the case was being handled by the Washington field office, so Jake used one of his many burner phones to call his FBI contact in DC.

  “You son of a bitch, Stone. I can’t believe you have the gall to call me,” Special Agent John Philips hissed.

  “Why? Are you giving me the silent treatment?”

  “No. I’m not a woman; I’m pissed.”

  “About the partial fingerprints?”

  “Damn right, it’s about the fingerprints. You never told me where you found them or whose you thought they were.”

  Jake put on his negotiating hat. “You never told me the names of the possible matches your system identified. I’d say we’re even. But listen. It’s a moot point anyway.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “I’ll wait while you look up ‘moot’ in a dictionary.”

  “Go screw yourself.”

  “Not physically possible.”

  The agent snorted and then chuckled. “All right, smart-ass, why is it a moot point?”

  Jake paused a moment to carefully compose his words. “It turned out that the guy whose prints we thought those might be…well, he’s…long gone.”

  “Long gone? The FBI would really like to get our hands on him. Any idea where he went?”

  Jake rolled his eyes and tried again. “Nope. If I had to guess, though, I’d say he went someplace notoriously hot. What I do know for sure is that he’s looong gone.”

  A thoughtful silence followed. Jake grinned as he imagined the gears spinning wildly in the other man’s head.

  “You trying to tell me something, Stone?”

  He sighed. “Maybe.” Another silence. “If I were you, Philips, I’d let it go. Forever,” Jake said to speed things along.

  “You dick.”

  “Damn straight.” He laughed. “We good?”

  “Yeah,” the agent said reluctantly. “But that’s not why you called, is it? You want something.”

  “Ouch. I just gave you some great news, and you’re accusing me of having an ulterior motive.”

  “You always have an ulterior motive.”

  “Okay. Guilty as charged.”

  Philips let out an exaggerated sigh. “What do you want this time?”

  “Access to the Elle Bradley investigation.”

  A choking sound filled Jake’s ear. “Not on your life…or mine. Do you have any idea how many eyeballs are looking at it?”

  “All the better. Who’ll notice two more?”

  “Some of those are really high-level eyeballs,” Philips said.

  “Is that because a bureaucrat is breathing down their necks?”

  “You didn’t hear it from me. Why are you interested anyway? She’s been found.”

  “Have you caught the kidnapper?” Jake asked.

  “No.”

  “Do you know his identity?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know his motive?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “There. Those are three of the many reasons why I’m interested.”

  “Seriously, Stone, this is a high-profile case. Everyone’s covering his ass. Especially since we didn’t find her,” Philips said, lowering his voice to just above a whisper.

  “Maybe the FBI should worry more about saving face by finding the kidnapper than about covering its ass for not finding the victim.”

  “Good point. Do you know who the asshole is?”

  Jake rolled his eyes again. “How the hell would I know, especially without access to any of the files?”

  “Thought maybe you’d talked to the victim, gotten your intel that way.”

  “Nope. I understand Ms. Bradley is in hiding.”

  Philips grunted. “From what I hear, she doesn’t want to see us any more than she wants to see the kidnapper. Don’t know how she expects us to help her if she doesn’t cooperate.”

  “I thought she’d given the San Diego Sheriff’s Department and the FBI full statements.”

  “That’s not public knowledge. See, you have talked to her.”

  “I swear I haven’t spoken to her. But I…hear things.”

  Philips sighed. “Yeah, I know. For a shadowy prick, you have a fucking incredible network of contacts.”

  “Hey, watch it. You’re part of that fucking network.”

  “Yeah, unfortunately.”

  Jake chuckled. “Are you close to solving the case?”

  Philips groaned. “No.”

  “Perhaps I can help.”

  “I should know better than to ask, but how?”

  “Well, for example, do you know that the kidnapper just tried to abduct Bradley again?”

  “What?” Philips shouted. “Are you messing with me?”

  “Nope. Got it on good authority. Which means the bastard is still here in San Diego County, but who knows for how long? We need to act quickly.”

  “We?”

  “Look, Philips, you know I can move faster than you guys. And I can stay under the radar. If the kidnapper learns the FBI is gearing up for an all-out blitz, he may take off—if he hasn’t already after his failure today. Good luck finding him once he’s in the wind.”

  The agent didn’t say anything for a full minute. Patience wasn’t one of Jake’s strong suits, but he forced himself to remain silent.

  “Okay,” Philips finally said. “But you have to keep me in the loop on everything.”

  “Didn’t I just tell you about the kidnapper’s latest move? Of course, I’m willing to share. Just don’t try to tie my hands.”

  “Fine. I’m leaving the office in a few minutes. I’ll text you from the burner phone in my car.”

  “Great. I appreciate it, buddy. Don’t forget to—”

  “I remember how this works, asshole.” Philips sighed again. “And Stone, we never had this conversation.”

  While he waited, Jake paced the Inner Sanctum and pondered the agent’s comment about his network of contacts. He not only heard things from those contacts, but they also provided remote access to restricted information, especially computer intel. He was a master at manipulating people into cooperating with him by playing on their individual motives: greed, power, guilt, revenge, or a desire to achieve a certain result, like justice in Philip’s case. When his usual, quasi-legal approach occasionally didn’t work, Jake had to use his expert hacking skills. Although with tighter and tighter cyber security, he worried his computer expertise might soon be insufficient.

  Fifteen minutes later, Jake’s burner phone beeped with a text containing the information he needed to access the Elle Bradley investigation files.

  * * *

  “Hold still, Deputy Johnson. It’s hard to stitch up a moving target,” the ER doctor complained.

  Damn, Luke hated hospitals. “Duct tape would be faster.”

  “But not nearly as sanitary. Now, sit still or I’ll tell your girlfriend you cried.”

  The G word caught him by surprise. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he said after a moment.

  “Well, she’s plenty upset about this. Keeps saying it’s her fault. I offered to give Ms. Bradley a sedative, but she refused.”

  “But Elle’s okay…physically? She didn’t get injured, right?”

  “Nasty bump on her head where she hit the pavement. We cleaned it up, and thankfully, the laceration didn’t require stitches. Despite the brief dizziness she exp
erienced immediately after her fall, we don’t think she suffered a concussion. But since she won’t let us do any additional testing, we can’t be sure,” the doctor explained.

  “But she’s gonna be okay?”

  “I certainly believe so. Otherwise, I would insist on testing, observation, and admittance.”

  “Good. Is Sean Burke still here?”

  “I think he’s in the waiting room with her.”

  “I need him to give me an update while you finish up.”

  The doctor scowled at him before asking a nurse to escort Sean to the exam room.

  A few minutes later, his friend appeared in the doorway. “What some guys won’t do to impress a woman. Jesus, Luke, I didn’t know you were so hard up.”

  Luke shot him the finger. “No time for joking around. What’s the latest?”

  “Your deputy buddies have been combing the area, searching for the white pickup,” Sean said.

  “Dammit. The kidnapper wasn’t in his pickup. He was driving the Palmers’ Hummer. I told them that first thing.”

  Sean grinned. “Down, boy, down. They already found the Hummer at a strip mall on Main Street. Apparently, Ski Mask Guy left his own truck in the same parking lot before stealing the Hummer from behind Mr. Palmer’s office building a couple blocks away. Palmer hadn’t even noticed it was missing.”

  “Did the asshole leave any DNA?”

  “Yeah. Some blood. Not a lot, so he’s not likely to bleed out…unfortunately. But you definitely hit him.”

  “I hope it hurts like hell.”

  Sean snorted. “Usually does. And before you ask, yes, the hospitals and urgent care clinics have been told to report any gunshot patients stat. No luck yet.”

  “Any witnesses?”

  “To the attempted abduction? No. To the Hummer snatching? No.”

  “Anyone get a plate on the pickup to compare to the one this morning?”

  “A white pickup parked in Ramona. Imagine that. People should’ve been gawking and lining up to take selfies with it,” Sean said sarcastically.

  “Shit. We can’t catch a break.”

  “May I remind you that neither you nor Ms. Bradley are dead or seriously injured?” the doctor said.

  “Yes, Luke, that is the most important thing.” All eyes darted to Elle, who stood in the doorway. “Thank God, you’re all right.”

  Damn, he was glad to see her. He hadn’t had a chance yet to analyze the panic he’d felt when the kidnapper ordered her into the Hummer. Save Elle had screamed through his brain. Then he’d completely lost the cool objectivity of a law enforcement officer. At least he hadn’t lost the skills that enabled him to grab his gun from the passenger-side floorboard and to shoot the bastard before he could take off with Elle.

  As she strolled across the room to the side of the exam table, Luke could see tears in her red-rimmed eyes. She kissed his cheek, and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

  “You good?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She leaned closer and whispered in his ear. “But I owe your sister a new bra.”

  His gaze jerked to her chest, to the nipples pressing against the thin T-shirt material. “Put my shirt on,” he growled back.

  “Too bloody.” She pulled away and gave him a teasing smile.

  When the doctor cleared his throat, Luke forced his attention away from Elle and back to him.

  “If you want, I can admit you so you can have stronger pain meds,” the doctor said.

  “No, thanks. I’ll take some ibuprofen.”

  The doctor shook his head. “That won’t cut it. I’ll give you a prescription for—”

  “No, thanks,” Luke repeated. “I can’t be drugged up while I’m trying to catch this asshole.”

  “Deputy Johnson, please take it easy, at least for a few days. I don’t want to see you back in here with those stitches ripped out or something worse.”

  “Fine, Doc. I’ll be careful. Are we done here?”

  The doctor frowned with frustration. “Yes. You can leave.” He shook Luke’s hand and left the exam room.

  “Your shirt is ruined. Here,” Sean said, handing his friend a heavy, black T-shirt, which had been hanging from his back pocket. “I always keep an extra one in my truck for emergencies, and this sure as hell qualifies.”

  Luke shot Elle a glare saying Why didn’t you put this one on? But to Sean, he said, “Thanks, man. Where’s my truck?”

  “When the crime-scene team finished with it, a couple of the deputies brought it here. You still planning to go to Stone’s place?” Sean asked, looking from Luke to Elle and back.

  “Yeah. No way are we going near my place after this,” Luke said.

  “How’d he know where we were?” Elle asked as she helped him get the T-shirt on over his injured arm.

  He sucked in a breath as her soft fingers brushed across his skin when she pulled the shirt down over his chest and abs to the waistband of his jeans. Once she finished, he cleared his throat and answered her question. “I bet Carmichael led him right to my place. He hasn’t exactly been discreet in his search for you.”

  “Maybe Richard didn’t obliviously lead the SOB to your house. Maybe he outright told the guy where he thinks I’m hiding.”

  Chapter 17

  By late Tuesday afternoon, Jake had been poring over the FBI files on Elle Bradley’s kidnapping for a couple hours. According to the detailed information, every lead the Bureau had developed eventually fizzled out. Several issues also struck him as highly unusual. Frowning, he leaned back in his chair and contemplated some of them.

  Elle Bradley was damn lucky to be alive. Most abductees were dead within a week—or less. Was her survival a clue in itself?

  The FBI’s failure to apply the widely accepted closest-male theory really bothered him. Usually, men with significant connections to a female victim were investigated first…and thoroughly. As far as he could tell, only two guys met the closest-male criteria in this case: her ex-fiancé and her father. But they had been almost ignored in the investigation except for some cursory vetting. Both men were members of DC’s elite society. Both had a relationship with Secretary of the Interior Arthur Carmichael: Richard as his son and Harlan Bradley as a former business partner. Had one or both of those factors persuaded the FBI not to consider them as potential suspects?

  The lack of a ransom demand was also very odd. The Bradleys and the Carmichaels were wealthy, and a kidnapper could’ve reasonably expected them to be willing to pay a sizeable sum for Elle’s safe return. But the guy had never asked for a dime.

  The FBI had considered sexual obsession as a possible motive for the abduction. They’d tracked down every registered sex offender in DC, southern Maryland, and northern Virginia, but had come up empty-handed with no viable suspects. However, Elle’s statements after her escape refuted the sex theory entirely. Or could she be lying about not being sexually assaulted? The records indicated she’d even refused to allow the ER doctor to do a rape exam. Jake knew women often found it difficult to report they’d been raped or sexually attacked. Was Elle struggling with denial or was something else going on?

  The stalker with the blue van had initially gotten a free pass from the DC police. When the FBI had reviewed the original work, the agents agreed with the cops’ conclusion, but they’d at least uncovered Mike Milton’s identity. Everything had changed when they discovered the college student was gone, vanishing about the same time as Elle. However, the subsequent, thorough investigation had failed to turn up any criminal history or incriminating evidence linking him to the kidnapping. Where was Mike Milton? Was his disappearance connected to Elle’s abduction? Was he the perpetrator or another victim?

  Bottom line: The FBI had done an adequate—although unsuccessful—investigation, except for ignoring the closest males. Special Agent Philips would be relieved to learn they hadn’t missed something obvious.

  Jake was ready to shut down his computer when he noticed a folder labeled as Elle’s hard drive. He checked
his watch. Burke had called five minutes ago to say they were leaving the hospital. He had time, and he would enjoy snooping around the reporter’s computer files for a while.

  Before he opened the folder, he noticed it hadn’t been touched in a few days, unlike the other FBI folders he’d accessed, all of which had been used only minutes or hours earlier. To decrease the likelihood his activity would attract attention, he copied the entire folder onto a flash drive, so he could play with it without anyone noticing. And since he wasn’t sure he’d be entering the Inner Sanctum while he had guests, the flash drive would also give him access on his computers outside the safe room.

  Jake shut down everything else on the screen before giving in to his eagerness to see what was on Elle’s hard drive. Feeling like a kid on Christmas morning, he clicked the icon and smiled at the treasure trove of information. Elle had categorized her numerous folders as personal or professional. Since the FBI investigation seemed to have dismissed the closest-male theory and hadn’t found any evidence of personal enemies, he decided to focus first on the business side of her life.

  Based on Elle’s type of reporting, enemies would be an expected consequence. He recalled an old expression: If you found a 60 Minutes film crew on your doorstep, you were going to have a bad day. Perhaps an updated version would be: If you were being investigated by Elle Bradley, you could expect your life to go to shit.

  He clicked the icon labeled “Completed Reports.” Inside were several dozen folders named for the subject of the investigation: a company, person, product, or issue. Picking one at random, he found the folder filled with Word files, videos, audio recordings, pictures, and third-party documents. Elle had accumulated multiple interviews, notes from confidential informants, opinions from experts, financial data, legal documentation, and all sorts of other information. She’d also saved half a dozen drafts and her final report as published by the newspaper in three segments printed Friday through Sunday. In the “Results” folder, he found copies of other media articles about her investigation, phone call notes, awards she’d won, and legal actions. This investigation had resulted in two individuals being indicted for mail fraud. They were out on bail awaiting trial. At least the document for threats received was blank. Of course, just because the two alleged criminals hadn’t made a known threat didn’t mean they weren’t her enemies. Jake made a mental note to confirm their names were on the FBI’s list of kidnapping suspects.