She rolled to her feet and rocketed down the alley, toward the noise and cars and people that meant safety. Faster, faster, faster! Every cell in her body throbbed with the knowledge that he was behind her. Her heart hammered. Her muscles strained. Faster! For the first time, she thought of a gun and imagined a bullet tearing through skin and bone. She surged forward, shrieking hoarsely and racing for the mouth of the alley.
Behind her a car door slammed. Tires squealed over the asphalt. She glanced back as the gray car shot down the alley, moving away from her. Taillights glowed. Another screech of tires as the car whipped around the corner.
Maddie stopped and slumped against the side of the building. Her breath came in ragged gasps. Her lungs burned, and it felt as though her heart was being squeezed like a lemon. Something warm trickled down her face. She touched a hand to her cheek and her fingers came away red.
Tears stung her eyes as she looked down at herself. Her purse was gone. Her camera was gone. Her phone was gone. She wasn’t gone, at least. She was here—in one shaking, terrified, Jell-O-y piece. But her knees felt so weak she didn’t know if they would hold her up. She closed her eyes and tried to think.
She couldn’t stay in the alley. But she couldn’t go back in that garage—maybe never again. She looked out at the street, at the steady flow of cars and people. Her gaze landed on the neon sign in the window of the sandwich shop. It glowed red in the gray of dusk, beckoning her to safety with its simple message: OPEN.
Maddie pushed away from the wall. On quivering legs, she stumbled toward the sign.
***
The two men were cops, she could tell at a glance. Maddie watched them from her place beside the patrol car, where she’d been sequestered for the past half hour answering questions from a rookie detective who’d probably been in diapers when she got her first speeding ticket. Maddie knew almost everyone in the San Marcos police department, but didn’t it figure the first responder to her 911 call would be someone she’d never laid eyes on before—someone who didn’t have the slightest interest in doing her a favor by moving things along. Added to the scraped chin, the swelling jaw, the lost purse, and the stolen Nikon, it was just another addition to the crapfest that had become her day.
And if her instincts proved right, the party wasn’t over yet.
Maggie watched as the two mystery men walked up to the patrol cars parked in front of the sandwich shop. Definitely cops. But they were more than that, clearly. She pegged them for feds based on their dark suits, and that guess was confirmed when one of them flashed a badge and exchange words with the patrol officers milling on the sidewalk. Jeff Grimlich—a cop she did know—had just emerged from the shop with a steaming cup of coffee. He said something brief and gave a nod in Maddie’s direction, sending them her way.
Maddie checked her watch. Whatever these two wanted, it wouldn’t likely be quick. She looked them over. The one leading the charge appeared to be mid-thirties, like she was. His shaved head coupled with his solid, stocky build would have made him look like a bouncer—had it not been for his suit and the determined scowl that said cop.
Maddie shifted her gaze to his friend. Taller, probably six-one. Broad-shouldered, muscular, lean at the waist. He had sandy-brown hair that was cropped short on the sides and longer on top. The word military popped into her head. It wasn’t just the haircut and the build, but the supremely confident way he carried himself. He was watching her, too, but in contrast to his partner’s expression, this guy looked utterly relaxed.
“Are you sure you don’t want to get this looked at?”
She turned her attention to the EMT handing her an icepack. Maddie pressed the pack to the side of her face, where a bruise was forming.
“I’m good.”
“Because it’s entirely possible you could have a concussion.”
“Thanks, but I’m fine.” And a trip to the emergency room was the last thing she needed tonight. She had an aversion to hospitals.
“Well.” The woman shrugged and flipped shut the lid to her first aid kit. “Suit yourself. I can’t make you take common-sense precautions.”
“Madeline Callahan?”
She turned, startled. She’d known he was coming, but she hadn’t expected such a deep voice from someone so young. He stared down at her, hands resting at his hips, suit jacket pushed back to reveal a semi-automatic pistol and—as she’d suspected—an FBI shield. She lifted her gaze to his smooth, clean-shaven face. If she was right about the military thing, he must have graduated from the Academy about a week ago.
“I’m Special Agent Brian Beckman with the FBI. This is Special Agent Sam Dulles.” He nodded at the bald guy. “We’d like to ask you a few questions, ma’am.”
Dulles leaned back against the patrol car parked perpendicular to the one where Maddie stood. Clearly, he intended to hang back and observe. Maybe this was a training exercise.
“Ma’am?”
She looked back at the young one. Beckman. He was watching her intently with those hazel eyes.
“Could you take us through what transpired here, please?”
Transpired. Typical cop-speak. Maddie folded her arms over her chest and leaned against the side of the car. “It was a mugging.”
His eyebrows tipped up. “Could you be more specific?”
“Someone attacked me in the parking garage. Stole my purse, along with my brand-new camera.”
“Your camera?”
“I’m a photographer. I was doing a photo shoot down at the park—a couple getting married.”
Both men were regarding her with frank interest now, and she had the feeling she was missing something.
Beckman eased closer. “We’d like you to walk us through the entire incident, ma’am. Step by step.”
Irritated by the ma’amming, she shot a look at Dulles. “Since when does the FBI have jurisdiction over a mugging?”
No answer.
“Maddie?”
She turned to see Jeff walking toward her, hand outstretched. Her brown leather purse dangled from his fingers.
“Oh, my God! Where was it?” She beamed a smile at him and snatched up the bag.
“Scanlon found it under a truck near your car. Phone’s in there, too. You just had a call come in.”
“Thank you! You have no idea how much trouble this saves me.” Maddie already had the phone out, and her heart lurched when she saw the text from her boss. It was just as she’d feared. She was needed at a crime scene, ASAP. He’d sent her a message coded 911 and a street address.
Maddie stashed the icepack in her purse and shoved the phone in the pocket of her jeans. Now she really needed to leave.
“Ms. Callahan?”
She glanced up. The young agent was watching her expectantly. So was his partner.
“Listen, you see Officer Scanlon over there? The one with the notepad? I guarantee he’ll be turning in a full report before he clocks out tonight. You can get the details from him.”
“We need them from you,” Dulles said, speaking up for the first time. He was still leaning against the side of the car, looking disapproving.
“Is there a specific reason the FBI is involved here? I told you, it was a mugging.”
“Looks to me like an assault, too,” Beckman said evenly.
“Okay, fine. But I really need to be somewhere, like, an hour ago, so unless you can explain how this is relevant—”
“We’re investigating a federal case.”
“A federal case involving…?” She waited as they exchanged looks.
“There was a theft across the street from here about five-thirty.” Dulles nodded at the park. “Given the timing, we think it could be connected to your incident.”
Maddie glanced across the street, where a bank faced out onto the park. A bank robbery certainly would explain the feds, but why weren’t there any police cars?
“Take us through what happened,” Beckman said, all trace of politeness gone.
And so Maddie did.
>
***
Brian watched as Madeline Callahan gave a concise but thorough account of the events following her photo shoot. The woman had an eye for detail—that much was clear. She also had an attitude. He wasn’t sure where it came from. Most people tended to perk up and take notice when FBI agents arrived on the scene, but this woman seemed mostly annoyed.
Brian watched her, intrigued. She wore faded jeans that hugged her hips, brown leather boots, and a black T-shirt that stretched tight over her breasts. Her arms were folded as if she were cold—and she probably was, given that the temperature had dropped into the forties since dusk. Her curly brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but strands had escaped and she kept tucking them back behind her ears. A nervous habit, maybe? But she didn’t seem nervous, and Brian had interviewed more than enough witnesses to know. His attention drifted to those full lips that seemed to taunt him as she talked. He watched her mouth and knew he was going to be fantasizing about it for a good long time.
In an effort to stay focused, he shifted his gaze to the side of her jaw, which was swollen and rapidly turning purple. Her assailant had gotten in a solid punch, and Brian’s gut tightened as he imagined some fat, hairy fist connecting with her face.
She was staring at him now and he realized she’d finished her story.
“So, your camera was directed north,” Sam stated, saving him from making an ass of himself.
“That’s right.”
Brian cleared his throat. “Ma’am, what are the odds you might have inadvertently photographed someone standing in front of that bank at five-thirty?”
She paused for a moment. “I’d say good. But I’d also say the odds of us ever knowing for sure are nil. So, as much as I’d love to help you guys, I think we’re all pretty much out of luck today.” She checked her watch, and a look of anxiety flashed across her face. “And now I really have to go.”
“Do you need a ride home?” Brian asked her.
She looked surprised by the offer. Then wary. “Thanks, but I’ve got my car.” She cast a glance over her shoulder at the parking garage and the anxiety seemed to double.
“Would you like an escort?” he asked.
“An escort?”
“To your vehicle.”
“Oh. No. Really, I’m fine.” She hitched her purse onto her shoulder. “So, if there’s nothing else you need…?”
“If there is, we’ll call you,” Brian said.
Her gaze narrowed. “I didn’t give you my number.”
He smiled slightly. “We can get it.”
They watched her walk across the street, and Brian marveled at her confidence as she returned, alone, to the scene of her attack. After dark, no less. Granted, there were cops milling around here, but still.
“What do you think?” Sam asked.
Brian glanced at his partner. “Seems pretty street smart for a wedding photographer.”
“In a hurry to leave, too.”
“Maybe she’s got a date.”
Sam shot him a look.
“What?”
“Damn, Beckman. Don’t you ever stop?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking it.”
“You believe she saw them?” he asked, changing the subject.
“I think the timing’s too perfect to be a coincidence,” Sam said grimly. “A photographer gets mugged right after a kidnapping goes down? By a two-man team, and they don’t even get her purse?” Sam rubbed his hand over his bald head and blew out a sigh, reminding Brian what a truly crappy day they’d had. And it wasn’t nearly over yet. They still had to get back to the office in San Antonio and help the task force piece together what happened to Jolene Murphy, the star witness in their upcoming case.
The star witness who had gone missing only minutes after leaving her office, which just happened to be across the street from Maddie Callahan’s photo shoot.
Sam was right. The timing, the location, the ruthlessness with which they’d gone after that camera, but overlooked other valuables—all together, it was too much of a stretch. Maddie Callahan had been targeted.
Brian watched the garage now as a Prius pulled out. He recognized Maddie behind the wheel. She turned onto Main Street and sped away.
He pictured the bruise on her face, and his gut tightened again. This case involved some extremely dangerous people, and he didn’t like the idea of them knowing Maddie Callahan existed, much less targeting her.
He looked at Sam. “Maybe she didn’t see anything,” he said hopefully.
“Maybe not. But a woman doesn’t just disappear in broad daylight. Someone sure as hell saw something.”
“You know, Jolene Murphy could have taken off,” Brian said. “Maybe we’re not dealing with a kidnapping at all, but a spooked witness.”
Sam sneered. “Trust me, they grabbed her. They want to know what she revealed and then they want her out of the way. And if we don’t find her soon, you can be damn sure we’ll be dealing with a murder.”
EXPOSED from Pocket Books
Copyright 2013 by Laura Griffin
Other Books by Laura Griffin
EXPOSED
SCORCHED
TWISTED
SNAPPED
UNFORGIVABLE
UNSPEAKABLE
UNTRACEABLE
UNSTOPPABLE
WHISPER OF WARNING
THREAD OF FEAR
ONE WRONG STEP
ONE LAST BREATH
About the Author
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Laura Griffin started her career in journalism before venturing into the world of romantic suspense. Her books have won numerous awards, including a 2010 RITA for Whisper of Warning and a 2010 Daphne du Maurier Award for Untraceable. Laura lives in Austin, Texas, where she is working on her next book. Visit Laura’s web site at www.lauragriffin.com or chat with Laura on Facebook or on Twitter @Laura_Griff
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Nightfall Page 5