“Yes,” she says, drawing out the word slowly.
“Well, I think I found something. It’s a disk of some sort that I found in a piece of luggage of Alexis’s that had been released to Drew when he identified her body. Anyway, when I stuck the card into the computer, I found a list of names and then a folder that seems to contain coding of some kind.”
Silence.
“You’re the only person I can talk to about this. I’m hoping you can put me in touch with someone who can figure out what’s on the card before giving it over to the FBI.”
“So the FBI doesn’t know?”
“No one does. Not even Drew. He wasn’t here when I found it, but based on what I’ve overheard the FBI talking about, I’m guessing it has really important information stored on it.”
“I do know someone,” she informs me. “They’re very discreet. I can’t take you to them with an FBI escort.”
“Don’t worry. I can lose her. How soon can you pick me up?”
“I’ll meet you on the corner near the entrance to your neighborhood in ten minutes.
“See you then.”
My heartbeat is racing and I’m feeling a little sick. That was almost too easy. I check my pockets to be sure I have my cell phone. Ok, this is it. Pushing a box under the nearest window, I quietly make my escape through the narrow opening, and when I’m confident that Corinne hasn’t heard me, I set out jogging to my meeting point with Vivian. I get there with a few minutes to spare and text Drew.
Breanne: I left something in your pocket. Plug it in as soon as possible. Plans have changed. Don’t be mad...I’m doing this for us. I love you.
I hit send and then turn my phone off.
TWENTY
Change of Plans
“Long time no see,” Al smirks as I slide onto the only vacant barstool. It’s not even ten o’clock at night and The Corner is completely packed with a mix of locals and hipsters.
“Good to see you, Al.” We clasp hands over the bar and slap each other on the shoulder. “How’ve you been?”
“Not too bad. My life’s not as interesting as yours has been, that’s for sure.” He looks me over, slightly frowning. “You holding up alright?”
It’s crazy how drastically different your world can change over the course of a few months. Even with the bullshit that’s been consuming Breanne and I, I’m a much happier man now than I was the last time I was sitting here with Al.
“I’m good. Getting ready for spring training…keeping busy.”
“And that woman who wouldn’t admit she loved you?” he asks.
I narrow my gaze at Al and tilt my head to the side, smiling. “What?”
My question comes out as a laugh as I riffle through the very vague memories of the last time I was sitting at this bar. If there hadn’t been pictures to the contrary, I’d swear on all that was holy that I didn’t almost do the unthinkable with some random broad in the bathroom. Of the memories I do have, being very hungover the next day and O’Conner chewing me a new one for basically crying like a baby, is front and center. Man, I seriously hope that didn’t happen here, because if it did, I’ll never hear the end of it from Al…translated, I’ll never come back.
“Last time I saw you, you were piss drunk and heartbroken. Them guys you were with carried you outta here.”
His eyes trail behind me toward some point at the back of the bar. “Ain’t that one of ‘em?”
Without looking back I know he’s picked out Everett from the crowd, and for a moment my chest tightens at the acknowledgement of O’Conner not being here. He’d have hated this plan more than Breanne.
“The ‘woman’ and I are engaged,” I tell him proudly. “So I won’t be making a scene tonight. Just meeting some of the guys here for a few rounds.”
Al shoots me a crooked grin, clearly doubting my claim. “You’re pulling my leg.”
The corners of my mouth pull up. “Honest to God,” I pledge, placing my hand over my heart.
“Well, I’ll be…”
Al shakes his head, watching me like I’ve just shown him the eighth wonder of the world, and then abruptly claps his hands, gaining everyone’s attention.
“Next rounds on me!” he bellows, earning him whistles and cheers from the crowd. I attempt to pass him my card, only to have it denied.
Hordes of people pack in like sardines at the bar, trying to get as close as possible in order to claim their free drink. Al must have divulged his reasons for buying drinks because out of nowhere a group of Red Sox fans stagger over to me. Two of them drape their arms over my shoulders and start singing ‘Sweet Caroline’. They’re not even through the first verse when the tune catches like a stadium wave, consuming the entire bar. For a moment, I get caught up in the celebrating. The only thing that gives me pause is that Breanne isn’t here with me.
When the song’s over and the crowd settles down, I take my phone out to check the time. I wonder how long I’ll have to wait for Vivian. I hit the thumb pad to illuminate my phone, but it’s a text from Breanne, not the time, that catches my attention. In the mayhem, I didn’t feel my phone vibrating in my pocket.
Breanne: I left something in your coat pocket. Plug it in as soon as possible. Plans have changed. Don’t be mad...I’m doing this for us. I love you.
Something in my pocket?
I stuff my hand in each pocket, fishing around until I feel something smooth and small. Curious I pull it out and immediately recognize it. Why the hell did she put that in here? I read her text again. Oh, hell no.
I run my shaking hand through my hair. No wonder Vivian hasn’t shown up. Breanne’s the bait and she wants us to trail her.
Fuck.
“Goddamn it,” I mutter, slamming my fist on the bar.
Why the hell would she do something so stupid?
I jump off the stool and make my way to Everett, who’s already noticed me moving and meets me halfway. I’m too livid to speak, so I toss my phone into his hands. He reads the text and groans. His shoulders sag as he takes out his own phone and hands me back mine.
Immediately, I dial Breanne’s number only to have it go straight to voicemail. I try again and get the same response. All of my anger morphs into panic. Let’s face it, I’m mad as hell that she’d put herself in a situation like this. The thought of losing her for good when we just started our forever guts me. I can’t do this without her.
“I got ahold of Mark,” Everett says in my ear. “Let’s go.”
We sprint to the car, bracing ourselves against the frigid wind. We don’t have far to go and yet it feels like an eternity. Replaying the night, I should have known something was off. She was anxious as hell before I left and I wrongly assumed it was because she was worried about me. I should have known…she thought this was the wrong approach from the beginning. Now she’s inserted herself into a situation she has no business being in. Worst of all, I know she’s doing this for me.
“I’ll never do anything to make you doubt my love for you again.”
At the time she said those words, they were reassuring…the most meaningful declaration I could imagine someone making. Now, it’s as if she’s redefined her true intentions. It’s no longer that she won’t make me doubt her love; it’s that she’ll do anything to prove it.
Anything.
“We’re almost to Mark’s location,” Everett assures me.
Tapping my feet at a ridiculous pace isn’t helping to get there fast. Rocking back and forth in my seat isn’t either. Fuck, I could literally crawl out of my skin. I’d rather run to her than sit here in this car, which is ridiculous. I just want to get there already, and I don’t want to rely on him.
Wait a minute…
I take the gadget Breanne placed in my pocket and plug it into my phone. A small, colorful wheel spins on my screen. How long does this freaking take? I’m about to take the thing out when a map pops up onto my screen. It takes another minute to fully load but fragmented audio has already started to come through.<
br />
Thank God.
Everett pulls the car to a stop as Breanne’s coordinates upload. I’m about to curse him out for wasting time, when his car door is yanked open.
“I’m driving,” Mark shouts.
Wasting no time, Everett swiftly let’s Mark slip into the driver seat and then gets in the back. Mark grabs my phone, hits a button on the touch-screen that turns the coordinates into driving direction from our location to the target, even as it moves. As much as I hate what he did to Breanne and his intentions, at this moment I’m glad he’s here.
“Did you put her up to this?” Mark snaps, peeling out onto the road.
“You can’t be serious,” I reply. Everett pats my shoulder, wordlessly telling me to chill out. I have no choice but to stand down because something more important has my attention: Breanne’s voice.
Turning the volume up as high as it’ll go, I hold the phone out so Mark can follow the directions. Like a hawk, my eyes bore into the phone as if Breanne will telepathically sense that I’m telling her to get the hell away from Vivian.
“Where are we meeting your contact?” Breanne asks.
“That warehouse near the bridge,” Vivian replies.
Glancing at the map on my phone, I try to figure out what bridge they’re near. They must be close to the Zakim.
“Does he know why we’re coming?” Breanne asks.
“I didn’t tell him we were coming. He’s not a big fan of visitors. He might not have agreed to help if I gave him advanced notice. If you’re standing in front of him, he won’t really have a choice.”
Mark, Everett and I listen intently while following the directions. We’re only ten miles from the location when the slamming of car doors echo from the other end of the line.
Gravel crunches beneath her feet, causing the tempo of my heart rate to accelerate dramatically. Screeching pierces my ears, followed by a slam and I attribute both to them entering a warehouse through a heavy, metal door.
“Does he live here?” Breanne asks, her breathing picking up in speed.
“For now,” Vivian replies.
Their out of sync footsteps reverberate in the absence of conversation, and then abruptly stop. Relying solely on sound is seriously screwing with me, sending my audible sensation into overdrive.
Jingling keys.
More metallic screeching.
Slamming.
“Arnold? Arnold? There you―w-what? No…no. Arnold!”
The intensity of her pleading sends a chill down my spine, but nothing prepares me for what happens next.
Bang.
Screaming.
“Nooooo!” I bellow. “Fuck. No. No. No!”
It takes Everett pinning me to the seat by wrapping his arms around me from behind, to get me to stop thrashing. My inconsistent breathing makes me so dizzy, I have to fight against my body’s reaction to what I’ve heard so that I don’t black out.
“Hurry up!” I spit at Mark, who’s lost all coloring.
“Wh-why’d you do that?” Breanne shrieks, the trembling of her body apparent in her voice.
She’s talking…she’s alive. Thank God.
“Don’t be frightened, Breanne. I’m with the CIA. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Is…is she dead?” Breanne cries.
Several seconds of silence elapse before a man’s voice finally answers, “Yes.”
I can hear the muffled sound of Breanne sobbing.
“Who is that?” I ask Mark. He looks downright sick which only fucks with my head worse. “Who?” I demand.
“You’re shaking,” the man says.
Why do I know that voice?
There’s shuffling followed by the unmistakable sound of gagging.
“This way,” the man says.
Based on the shooing and dragging sound I envision he’s ushering Breanne away from Vivian’s body.
“I wish you didn’t have to see that. Vivian was a dangerous woman. Here, have a seat and I’ll explain.”
“N-n-no. I want to go home,” Breanne stammers.
“Fuck,” Mark growls.
“What’s going on?” I ask Mark.
He doesn’t respond.
“Sh-sh-she called you Arnold,” Breanne states shakily. “Who are you really?”
She knows him. Whoever Arnold is, it’s someone that we know.
“Be quiet, Breanne,” Mark warns as if she can hear him.
“You know who I really am,” the man replies.
Thump. Thump.
Mark slamming his fist on the steering wheel jolts me. Perspiration accumulates on his forehead, trickling down his face. Clenching his jaw, he looks like he’s on the verge of a heart attack and I’m right there with him. The car accelerates while his white knuckled grip increases.
“FUCK!” Mark roars.
“What the hell’s going on?” I demand of him yet again. “Damn it, Mark. Tell me who the fuck that is or so help me G—”
“Dosdell.”
TWENTY-ONE
Last Chance
My entire body is shaking. There’s nothing left in my stomach and yet, I can’t stop heaving. I don’t want to be here. I want to go home and crawl into bed with Drew and the kids. Unfortunately, I have this sinking feeling that this night is far from over. What the hell was I thinking? And where are Mark and Drew?
I glance back at Vivian’s lifeless body, watching the pool of blood grow. I’ve seen my share of violence recently but this is unbearable.
“You didn’t have to shoot her,” I snap.
It doesn’t matter that Vivian wanted to kill me for reasons that are beyond my understanding. Witnessing a murder is a horrific experience and no amount of hatred for the victim can prepare you for how unsettling the reality is.
Since when was homicide part of any plan?
“This may come as a shock to you, but Vivian was involved in some shady organizations. She’s not the person you thought she was.”
No shit, I want to scream but my inner sass is nowhere to be found.
“Please take me home. I’m not feeling well.”
“Soon enough,” Dosdell says, guiding me toward a ragged couch and taking a seat next to me. “First we need to talk.”
Pressing my hands repeatedly down the length of my jeans, I attempt to rub the sweat from my palms. I do my best to ground myself enough to have a conversation, except I can’t. This warehouse is spacious, yet I’m suffocating in his proximity.
He’s on your side.
Doing my best to recall Mark’s explanation of Dosdell’s involvement, I remind myself that he was Mark’s mentor and friend. Mark trusted him to protect me before everything went wrong. He must have had justified reasons for killing Vivian.
“Where are your FBI escorts?” he asks.
“Home…maybe looking for me. I don’t know,” I reply.
“Nobody knows where you are?” he asks.
I shake my head. If they did, wouldn’t they have been here by now?
“Vivian bringing you here wasn’t on her agenda tonight.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“I can fix this, but first you need to tell me what she was bringing you here for,” he explains calmly.
“Please…just…I need a minute.”
“You’re in shock. Come here.”
He wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer. Involuntarily, I stiffen. His touch is anything but comforting.
“Mark never wanted you to be exposed to these things. You see, Mark was also in the CIA. As hard as it might be for you to accept this, his death came at the hands of the woman behind you.”
Why is he talking about Mark as if he’s really dead?
“After Mark passed, I took over a case involving Vivian. Based on the last conversation I had with her, I’m aware of an attack that took place at Drew’s sister’s house a few months ago. Unfortunately, confidentiality requirements prevent me from going into more detail about my involvement without you sharing what yo
u know. Are you feeling well enough to discuss this?”
Instead answering his question, I ask one of my own. “Why did she call you Arnold?”
“As I mentioned, I’ve been working undercover. That often entails concealing my true identity.”
“Then who’s the real Arnold?”
Dosdell’s eyes flint back and forth between mine, evaluating my question. Pursing his lips together, his expression falls.
“I know you’ve been through a lot. Losing Mark, what happened to your flight and now Vivian. It’s hard even for me to process. If you want to see justice served, you need to tell me what you know. Why did Vivian bring you here tonight?”
“The evidence,” is all I can manage to get out.
“Evidence?” he asks.
You know I don’t have any, is what I want to say, but words fail me. I’m confused and scared. Maybe I am in shock. The events of tonight and those of the previous months are catching up to me and I can no longer contain how extremely overwhelmed I am.
“This is important, Breanne. What evidence?” Dosdell presses, his clipped tone catching me off guard.
“Breanne.” The way he says my name it’s nearly a warning.
I want to scream. He knows there isn’t…oh no.
“I…I, uh...”
My eyes dart from Dosdell to Vivian’s lifeless body and I slowly piece together my situation. This is all wrong. Dropping my head into my hands, I conceal my face and my eyes brim with tears. I’m no longer upset about witnessing Vivian being shot inches from where I stood. I’m scared for my own life.
Dosdell doesn’t know the plan…he doesn’t know there isn’t any evidence. Not because I changed the plan. Dosdell’s no longer on this operation.
Mark told me that Dosdell’s role in this operation stopped the minute his plan to rescue Drew and I at the safe house failed. My tears fall harder and my mind swirls out of control. Only Vivian and Henry knew Major Arnold’s true identity. Mark was never given access to Major Arnold and now it all makes sense why.
Dosdell is Arnold.
Rundown (Curveball Book 2) Page 23