It wasn't much longer before they pulled up to the brick townhouse Tiffany had directed them to hours before. The vehicle identified as Abby Reed's was there, and nothing seemed out of place as he, Davis, Kavanaugh, and Sloane all arrived at the black painted front door.
After ringing the doorbell, they all caught a flick of the curtain before a faint call of “Who is it?” came through.
“Abigail Reed,” Sloane said through the door, “FBI. Open up.”
The door opened slowly, revealing a waif of a woman with dark hair and big brown eyes, dressed in a man's blue pin-striped button down. “Why is the FBI looking for me? Is my mother okay?”
“May we come in?” Sloane asked, pouring on the charm.
She looked down at herself before opening the door wider. “Um, sure. I mean, it's not my house, but...”
“Babe, why'd you get out of bed?” a man's voice asked from upstairs. “I wasn't done with you.”
Chris had never seen a woman blush so much and decided to use his own considerable charm to his advantage. Giving her a small smile, he asked, “Miss Reed, you don't have any idea why we'd be looking for you?”
“Babe!” the voice yelled again.
“I'm a little busy,” she shouted back. “The FBI came for me.”
That made the man leave the bedroom, running down the stairs like a rocket. Dressed only in a pair of flannel pajama bottoms, the sandy haired man looked familiar. “Don't say anything, Abs.”
Her doe eyes went impossibly wider. If he could base things on looks alone, he'd tell them all the walk out the door and leave this woman alone. She was entirely too naive to have pulled off any of the things they suspected her of doing. “Um... no. Why are you here?”
The man stood to his full height now, his lightly muscled body on alert. “Don't say a word.”
She looked utterly confused by both the arrival of law enforcement and the advice of her boyfriend. “I don't have anything to hide, Rob.”
That's why he seemed familiar. Robert—Rob—McClaren, Jr., Priscilla McClaren's brother. The same McClarens who owned Aylesford Community Bank. “Robert McClaren, Jr? You've got to be fucking kidding me.”
Kavanaugh cut him an icy glare. “What's the matter with you, Delmonico?”
“The history between the Everett and the McClaren families hasn't been good in the last few years. This one's sister kidnapped and tried to rape Camryn Everett's older brother.” He paused. “Not to mention, his family owns the bank.”
Brandon waved at his one-time step-brother. “Please tell me you didn't have anything to do with this.”
“With what?” Rob McClaren was either genuinely perplexed or a great actor. Considering the gene pool, Chris wasn't ready to rule out either option.
Sloane stepped between everyone. “McClaren, huh? We have some illegal land deals that just happen to be closing at your family's bank later today.”
The thinner man's eyes widened, and he swallowed. “Illegal deals?”
“Yup. Run through an account that sure as shit looked like it belonged to little miss over here, but I'm beginning to think it doesn't.”
Abby had taken two steps away from her boyfriend while Sloane was explaining. She turned to face McClaren before biting out, “Tell me what's going on. Right now.”
“They've got it all wrong, babe.”
She looked between the law enforcement officers and her boyfriend and back again. “Enlighten me. Because it sounds an awful lot like I need to call my office, so I can become a client.” She poked him in the bare chest. “What did you do?”
“Nothing.” He took a step toward back. “Nothing.”
She looked directly at Chris, brown eyes wide and searching. “Tell me what he did.”
“How about you two just come back to Aylesford with us, and we'll figure it out. He'll ride with the Feds, and you can ride with us.”
“It is okay if I put clothes on first? I really don't want to wear anything of his right now.”
He nodded. “Have at it.” He turned to McClaren. “You, too, and don't try to get away. I will shoot you, paperwork be damned.”
McClaren held his hands up. “Calm down, man. I'm telling you, you've got it all wrong.”
“Prove it.”
Before either could move, Kavanaugh interrupted. “No. We're finishing this now. Get a move on, we're going to the Baltimore FBI office.”
Rob McClaren's complexion paled even more. “Whatever you say, ma'am.”
“Call me ma'am again, and I'll shoot you myself.”
Chapter Twenty
“You're sticking to your story?” Brandon wished he were the one questioning Abby Reed, but they'd crossed state lines and were currently sitting in an FBI building. That meant he wasn't asking the questions, he was observing Special Agent in Charge, Miranda “Randi” Kavanaugh instead.
“There's no story,” the smaller woman protested, the attorney who had arrived a quarter hour earlier nodding along. “I don't know why you think I did whatever you think I did, but I don't know how to hack a computer, and I certainly didn't kill anyone.”
“Do you believe Theodore Richardson was your father?”
She shook her head. “I honestly don't know. My mother didn't know who my father was, but I never felt slighted.” She narrowed her eyes. “Do you think he was my father? Do you think I thought he was my father but murdered him?” She was shaking, the thought clearly making her more than a little uncomfortable. “That's... that's...” She trailed off to search for a word. “Abhorrent. Why would someone kill their own father?”
Money makes people do a whole lot of crazy things, little girl.
Kavanaugh either wasn't buying the naive girl act or didn't care to tip her hand. “So, somehow, it's your computer and your workplace systems that are used to steal millions in land and coerce a minor into helping, but you had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all?”
Her brown eyes, already large in her face widened even further. “I don't know what you want from me, but I really don't know anything.” She glanced at her attorney again, the man offering nothing aside from a head shake. “I really had no idea anything was happening.” She put her face down on the table. “What did Rob do?”
“We don't know who did what,” Kavanaugh started. “What we do know is millions of dollars of land was sold using stolen funds by someone to whom it didn't belong. The last piece of the land puzzle was Club Bleu. We know that your computer shows history relating to this and it's been going on for almost a year now. We know the server at your office was used both to access funds and to contact Holden Graves who believes he is your half-brother.”
Abby gasped at that. “What?” If the girl was guilty, he'd turn in his badge.
Kavanaugh didn't bother to acknowledge the astonishment in the smaller woman's voice, instead moved on. “Holden Graves shot up his high school, and his mother opened fire on a car full of people today, including Carter Jamieson and Camryn Everett.” She glared at Abby. “And that was after Camryn Everett was kidnapped and recovered, and their rescue was hampered by Simon Richardson slamming into them with a truck in West Virginia. So, spare me the wide-eyed, innocent waif look, and tell me what you know.”
Tears streaming down her face, Abby met the agent's gaze. “I truly know nothing about any of this. I barely knew Carter was engaged. I'm supposed to keep his calendar, but he took a week off without clearing his schedule. That's what I was stressed about.” She let out a mirthless laugh. “This morning I was worried because my boss was involved with a woman I didn't know and had screwed with my careful, color-coded system. Now, I'm sitting here with you, and you're telling me you think I did unspeakable things, and I have nothing to tell you except I didn't do it.”
“Miss Reed, I advise you don't say any more,” her lawyer broke in.
She gave the older man a look. “It doesn't matter. I can't implicate myself, accidental or otherwise, since I didn't do anything.”
He'd been convinced of her inn
ocence since Abby Reed had answered the door, but it looked to him like Kavanaugh might be on the same page when she got up and left the room without asking any further questions. When the agent entered the room where he waited, her jacket was rumpled, her mouth set in a hard line. “We've been searching for her for a while, certain she was guilty, but now...”
“It's fucking McClaren,” he snapped. “He's the money guy, and the Richardsons were the ones orchestrating the land deals.” Their hypothesis in the car was becoming more and more clear and with someone tied to the bank involved—
“Leanne and Holden Graves?” Kavanaugh broke into his thoughts.
“I just came up with this theory,” he admitted. “I don't know the answer to that yet.”
She gave him a long look. “We need to talk to Sloane and Delmonico after they're done with McClaren, but I'm inclined to agree.”
~*~
“So, you're telling me little Abigail Reed is secretly a hacker?” Sloane asked Rob McClaren. Chris was behind the glass partition just like he knew his counterpart, Davis was doing with Kavanaugh and Abby.
McClaren's expression was somber. “I knew something was up with her. Always disappearing on me. Needing to stay late at work. What was she really doing?” He watched Sloane let Rob steer the questioning, the attorney McClaren had called sitting stoically beside him, whispering in his ear every so often.
“What do you think she was doing?”
“Who, you mean? She was having an affair with Jamieson. She always talked about him, how wonderful he was, how smart.”
“She couldn't have just liked her job?”
“She wanted more.” He sighed, playing up his story. “She wanted more money, more attention. She may look sweet, but she's not.” Sloane raised an eyebrow, but let McClaren keep talking. “She wanted more money than I had—and I have a lot—so she was stealing. With the computer, I mean.”
“Because she was a great hacker.”
“You can't steal otherwise, right?” McClaren looked hopeful. “Look, unless you're going to charge me with something, you can't hold me.”
“That's where you're wrong,” Sloane replied, a smirk on his face. “Here at the Bureau, we do things a little differently. You're gonna sit right here for a while. You want a sandwich or something?”
“Turkey and swiss on rye, no mayo, light on the tomato.”
Sloane snorted. “I'm not a waitress. I'll bring you whatever we have.” He left the interrogation room then, walking into observation to ask Chris his opinion.
“He's guilty of something. I don't know if it's just being a douche or something else, but he's definitely guilty.”
The agent nodded. “Let's talk to the others, see what they think. If I were a betting man, I'd put money on McClaren using Miss Reed as a scapegoat, although I don't know how involved he actually is with all the other players.”
Kavanaugh and Davis entered the room then. “McClaren is the money man,” Davis declared, confidence in his tone.
He'd guessed that might be the case. “Can you prove it?”
“Not yet. We surmised Theo was embezzling from himself, but he would have needed help to buy and sell land. Who better to push through the paperwork at the bank than young McClaren, here?”
His and Davis's phones rang at the same time then, the two of them scrambling to answer. “We caught the shooter at the Everett estate.” Tiffany's voice was shaky as she went on. “Aylesford is processing Holden Graves for attempted murder as we speak.”
“He was supposed to be under surveillance.” Chris didn't know if the pieces were falling into place or if everything was falling apart, but at least something was moving forward.
“Can't say I'm too impressed with the Feds, that's for sure,” she agreed.
“We need to regroup, and we need to figure all the players.” He looked over at Davis talking animatedly into his own phone. “Why'd you call me instead of Davis?”
“The Chief wanted to call him himself. Said something about ensuring he played nice with the Bureau.”
“Doesn't look like he's agreeing.”
She chuckled. “I wouldn't expect so. They surely haven't been much help.”
“True.”
After disconnecting the call, Chris turned to the room at large. “We know that both the Graves have been trying to kill Camryn Everett and or Carter Jamieson, we know someone succeeded in killing Theo Richardson, and we're fairly certain Rob McClaren at least moved the money for them, probably using Abby as a scapegoat and ruse. Now, how do we prove that?”
“Why are the Graves trying to kill people?” Kavanaugh wondered.
Dark emotion flitted through Davis's eyes. “Let's ask.”
Kavanaugh raised her chin in agreement. “We need to keep McClaren and Reed here for now. Todd, you stay here with our guests. I'll head back with Davis and Delmonico to find the rest of this puzzle. Work out whatever you can here. Extra points if you crack McClaren while we're gone.”
The stocky man smiled. “I'll do my best.”
“Let's roll.”
~*~
“I feel like there's a tornado coming or something,” Camryn told Carter. “We're together in a windowless room, sitting here waiting for a storm to pass over us.”
“A figurative storm.”
She blew out a frustrated breath. “I was thinking more a shitstorm, but that works, too.” She studied the bathroom where they were hiding. Large enough that it could be rented as a studio apartment in the city, it was done in all white with splashes of dark blue and silver. It was a beautiful room, but she didn't want to be hiding from the world. “There are people trying to kill us, and we're in the bathroom.”
He studied her, gray eyes warm behind his lenses. “What would you rather us do? Confront the shooters? Ask them to kill us? I'd rather live and deal with them in court. There are people who are trained for that kind of stuff, Lark, and it's not us.”
“I know, I just feel useless.” She sighed. “Sean and Alec are out there putting their lives on the line to keep us safe.”
“Sean and Alec are highly trained operators who know what they're doing.” He paused to kiss her softly. “This is almost over. I can feel it.”
“Or you're just saying that to calm me down.”
He lifted her chin to look her in the eye. “Is it working?”
She smiled and kissed him again. “Maybe a little.”
It wasn't long before the door opened, and Sean stuck his head in the room. “Word is the police caught the second shooter, and he's being booked for attempted murder. We're sticking close by, but you shouldn't have to stay in the bathroom.”
“Thank you.” She bit her lip. “Am I allowed to ask who was shooting at us?”
“I'd tell you if I knew. I just know it's a male.”
“Okay, then.” Who could it have been? “My parents?” she asked instead.
“Everyone is fine, ma'am.”
She shuddered at the word, even if she knew he didn't mean anything aside from respect. “Call me Camryn or Cam, please,” she insisted. “Ma'am just does not work for me.”
“Sure thing, ma—Camryn.”
Turning to Carter, she asked, “Ready to go do something super fun like, say, look at flowers on the internet? I want to do something mindless, something wedding and happy related.”
“Your wish is my command, Lark.”
“Good answer.”
~*~
“Holden, your mother will be in prison for a long, long time.” Chris didn't mince words and loved that he was the one able to do the questioning. “She tried to kill a lot of people.”
The kid's head was ducked, his hair covering his eyes. “She didn't.”
“I caught her. I was there.”
He shook his head, the shaggy hair flying. “No, if she'd wanted them dead, she'd've shot them dead. She was trying to help.”
The kid was delusional. “I suppose you were trying to help as well?”
“Yes, sir. They
needed to be safe, so I scared them.”
“By them, you mean Carter Jamieson and Camryn Everett. The people you shot at earlier today?”
“Yeah, and I didn't hit them.” He paused to look at his attorney who appeared flabbergasted. “On purpose.”
Play along, Delmonico. “Okay. Why did they need to be safe? Who were you and your mother protecting them from?”
“I don't know.”
He barely restrained himself from wrapping his hands around the kid's neck. “You don't know?”
“No, sir.” The kid took a deep breath. “Shooting at them makes them have protection, makes them stay away from the people trying to kill them.” His tone was so teenage, so full of “duh,” Chris would have laughed if this kid hadn't just been shooting at people.
“That's one way to go about it.” He paused. “You said last time I asked you about shooting at Camryn Everett and Carter Jamieson that it was because you were afraid your girlfriend would follow in Ms. Everett's footsteps and go to New York. Is that really what happened?”
“No, sir.”
“Why, then?”
The boy gave Chris a look. “The same reason as today. Ms. Everett is in danger.”
“But you don't know who's trying to hurt her?”
“My sister,” he answered his tone reluctant and his brows drawn. “I've never met her, but I'm sure she's what she says she is. My father was a filthy pig.”
“Who is dead.” He skewered the kid with a look.
He held up his hands. “I did not do that.”
“I'm not so sure.”
~*~
“Maybe these?” Camryn pointed at a beautiful bouquet of delphinium, white roses, and mini calla lilies. “The blue looks gorgeous with the white.”
“Like your ring.” He knew he'd chosen the right diamond for her, even if it took his sister promising the moon to half her contacts. He let out a laugh. “And the bathroom we were just camped out in.”
She shrugged. “True. Such a great color combination. For many things.” She brushed a kiss against his jaw. “I'm going to pin these to the board, and maybe a few more.”
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