Deep Extraction

by DiAnn Mills

  Revenge involved those who had power and money concerns—everyone from work to personal life.

  Love as reason to kill meant a crime of passion, and he’d filed for divorce. Although maybe Cole Jeffers was right, and Nathan’s insistence stemmed from wanting to ensure his family was safe. Tori could hope.

  She glanced at the time. Nearly two hours had passed since she and Max parted this morning. No communication either. She stared at her cell phone, debating whether to text him. Max had made it clear his whereabouts were none of her business. She hadn’t dealt with his actions this morning either. Sighing, she moved on to what could be investigated without him.

  Tori phoned Moore Oil & Gas to speak to Nathan’s executive assistant, Anita Krantz. Those who worked closely with high-ranking executives were usually a better resource than a wife. Unfortunate but true.

  “Ms. Krantz, this is FBI Special Agent Tori Templeton. Are you free to talk?”

  “By all means.” She gasped lightly. “Is it true Nathan was murdered?”

  “Yes. I’m sure all of you are grieving his loss.”

  “We are. It’s unspeakable.” Ms. Krantz’s voice rang soft, sweet, and Tori remembered the gorgeous platinum blonde with a knockout figure who’d delivered papers to Nathan one night while she visited the Moores. “I called Sally to express my personal condolences. The office will send flowers and arrange for food during the funeral, but I wish we could do more.”

  “We all want to reach out to the family. Do you have any idea who could have orchestrated his death?”

  “He told me EPA radicals had threatened him. And then there’s the bombing.”

  “We’d like to view his files and image the computers.”

  “We’ll need a court order.”

  Cooperation would have been a perk, but what aspects of a murder investigation were ever easy? “I’ll handle the legal paperwork. I thought you might have information aside from business, a person for us to interview.”

  Obviously the woman was debating offering particulars.

  “Ms. Krantz, your words will be held in strict confidence.”

  The woman sighed. “Please, this did not come from me. . . . Nathan had concluded that Sally no longer loved him, but he loved her. He regretted the situation and what it might mean for his sons. He told me when he was incredibly upset.”

  Could this possibly be true?

  “Does it make sense to you why he’d arrange for additional protection for his wife and sons if he had plans to leave the family?”

  “You’d have to know Nathan to comprehend that’s the kind of man he was. He’d have her and the boys’ best interests at heart.”

  BY ONE THIRTY, Max hadn’t returned, and Tori fretted that whatever kept him was medical, like the spot on his lung. Facing an afternoon without her partner meant dreaded paperwork and no face-to-face interviews. His absence was creating a delay in working the case. Not like him to leave her out of the loop. Unless he was working remotely and had made inquiries. Had he completed his own background check and become aware of Cole’s business expertise? A more thorough history on “the yardman” seemed in order, but she’d wait until Max contacted her. The fact Sally called Cole instead of Tori when Nathan died bothered her. Was the issue about leaning too much on Tori like Sally had said, or did Tori fear Cole and Sally might be more than friends? After rescheduling the appointment with Nathan’s cardiologist, she asked for information on the wireless connection of his pacemaker.

  She completed a subpoena request and search warrant affidavit for Nathan’s business and personal cell phone and computer devices, then added the entire Moore household. A bit of her felt like a traitor to her friends, but sentiments never solved a crime. Just made her feel like scum. She added Cole Jeffers to the list of cell phone records. Rubbing her temples, she fought a nagging headache that told her the regret for her friends was pounding at her brain.

  A freckle on her left wrist seized her attention. Was it darker? It looked bigger too. It could be melanoma. She snatched her cell phone. Less than five minutes later, she had a doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning at 7:30. Being overly concerned about her health stalked like a predator. She was so afraid she’d end up with cancer like Mom and Kevin. Maybe Max.

  She refused to go there and turned her attention to the cardiologist’s report about Nathan’s type of pacemaker and its vulnerabilities. Sally had told her Nathan’s cardiologist could make changes to the device without surgery.

  Tori phoned the tech department and explained the initial findings. “For a hacker to gain access, would this most likely be the fault of the pacemaker’s manufacturer or the hospital’s equipment?”

  “Hospital’s equipment. The manufacturer would take every precaution.”

  “Would you look into it and get back to me?”

  She texted Max and coaxed her thoughts into bursting through the walls of her brain. Didn’t really matter how the hacker accessed Nathan’s pacemaker, except it might lead to the who and why. Although the wireless features could be remotely accessed by those capable of reprogramming the device, Nathan obviously hadn’t been concerned about anyone using his lifesaving pacemaker to inflict harm. In this case, death. The man must not have researched the potential downside before making a decision about his health and how that would affect his family. Perhaps he viewed himself as indestructible.

  At two fifteen, Max texted her.

  Stay on source of hacker. Won’t b in 2day. I called ASAC.

  The worst-case scenario blasted her mind. R u @ home?

  No.

  I care, Max. What’s wrong?

  At MD Anderson. Stage 3A.

  Her stomach threatened to rise to the top of her throat. I can come.

  No. This is my war. U work the case. I know about Jeffers’ job.

  K. I requested court orders & all devices business and personal w/ Moore family & Cole Jeffers.

  Good. I’ll call later.

  Thoughts about Kevin’s suffering with chemo and radiation sped through her mind. U shouldn’t b alone.

  Back off.

  What about a medical leave?

  This is all I have left. Done. Get 2 work.

  She rubbed her temples again. Max’s diagnosis wasn’t a surprise. She’d seen his steady weight loss followed by the unhealthy gain from steroids and whatever meds the doctors prescribed. But a lung could be replaced. That could save his life. He could continue his days with quality. When she saw him, she’d probe more. If he didn’t shut her down.

  Her cell buzzed, and she startled. The ASAC. “Yes, sir.”

  “Max texted me. Said he told you about the medical diagnosis.”

  “Yes. Not really a shock when he admitted to having a spot on his lung.”

  “His options aren’t optimistic. Only one in five people survive stage 3A cancer.”

  Her stomach roiled. “I suggested a medical leave.”

  “He’s retiring after this case.”

  Had Max given up? It didn’t sound like the man she knew. “What can I do?”

  “Act normal. Understand he’s been short-tempered.”

  “Without a doubt.”

  “Don’t let him get away with it. I told him he must maintain professionalism—his attitude, dress, and methods. He’s chosen to finish the investigation, and he’s aware that he’s walking a thin line.”

  “I’m assuming complaints have been made.”

  “Sally Moore filed a report, and Max admitted to his tactics. Are you sure about working this case with your personal interests?”

  “Absolutely. My first priority is to find Nathan’s killer. I want to believe Mrs. Moore is innocent of any crimes, but my beliefs need proof.”

  “I’d like to think your outstanding work ethic won’t fail you now.”

  “Yes, sir. I promise you my relationship with Sally Moore will not stand in the way of justice.”

  “But if it does, I expect you to resign from the case.”

  “I agree.
Max’s last words were ‘get to work.’”

  “I believe it. I’d like to see you in my office about four. Should have your court orders by then, and I have someone for you to meet.”

  “A new partner?”

  “We’re not replacing Max unless his treatments leave him incapacitated. We’ll talk later.”

  Cole parked in the visitor area of Houston’s FBI offices. His stint earlier today at the US Marshals human resources department made it clear he’d been set up for an expedited return to his former career. Manny must have been busy laying the groundwork, and Nathan’s death had fueled Cole to bring in the killer and connect the dots in the recent bombing.

  The reinstatement and Cole’s desire to return, along with his experience, quickly set things in motion. Earlier in the day, Ralph Hughes, the FBI’s ASAC, had contacted the US Marshals office and requested Cole be fast-tracked to join the FBI task force investigating the crimes associated with Moore Oil & Gas. Odd Ralph hadn’t contacted Cole first since he knew his status with the Marshals.

  A call was made, and here he was meeting with Ralph and about to be introduced to the agents assigned to the case. Again.

  How would Special Agents Tori Templeton and Max Dublin react to their prime suspect, a Deputy US Marshal, working with them? Might be entertaining. Might be a nightmare. Not so sure the environment would be conducive to solving a crime. But bringing to justice Nathan’s killer and learning who bombed his drill site superseded any ruffled feelings.

  Cole cleared the security gate and waited in the lobby for Assistant Special Agent in Charge Ralph Hughes to escort him into the secure area. A bit of déjà vu. He paced. This was where he belonged. Adrenaline no longer dripped but flowed like a waterfall.

  “Cole.” The man still reminded him of a high school football coach on game day.

  “Yes.”

  “Good to see you again.” He reached to shake Cole’s hand. “Feels like old times.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  “Makes me wish we were in the field together.” Clear eyes behind dark-rimmed glasses met Cole. “Ready to work?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Cole followed him around the corner to the office area and onto an elevator. Once in the ASAC’s office, the man settled into his chair. Yep, game day coach—with much higher stakes.

  “One of our special agents will not be present this afternoon—Max Dublin. But Tori Templeton will arrive at four.”

  “Is she aware of the task force?”

  “No. There could be a problem with her partner.”

  Cole maintained an unemotional stance. “In what way?” He knew all too well Dublin’s rough mannerisms.

  “Medical issues that have the potential of impacting the investigation. He probably won’t admit it to you, but he’s dealing with lung cancer.”

  No excuse for Dublin’s rudeness, but definitely an explanation. “Got it. Is Agent Templeton aware of his medical problems?”

  “Yes, as of today. He’s currently at MD Anderson receiving treatment.”

  A knock on the door and a recognizable woman’s voice indicated Tori Templeton had arrived. Hughes welcomed her to take a seat beside Cole.

  He stood. No smile until he read her reaction.

  She blinked, then quickly regained her composure. Any chances to make a good impression vanished.

  “I don’t understand,” she said.

  “Agent Templeton, I’d like for you to meet Deputy Marshal Cole Jeffers. He served on a task force with the FBI about eight years ago when I was in the field. In fact, we worked together. Cole will be working with you and Agent Dublin on the Moore case. This includes the bombing and the murder.”

  No flash of surprise. He had to admit she was quick on her feet. A pro.

  “I apologize for any misleading this morning,” Cole said. “In truth, I was reinstated in the US Marshals this afternoon after a leave of absence.”

  “And I requested him for the task force,” the ASAC said. “Cole won’t disappoint you.”

  “A man of many hats.” She smiled through an icy glare. “From yardman to business owner to Deputy US Marshal all in one day.”

  “Again I apologize. I’d like to think we could work together.”

  The ASAC lifted his chin. “Is there animosity I should be aware of?”

  “No, sir,” she said. “Deputy Marshal Jeffers and I both have an investment in this case. We’re friends of Nathan Moore and his family.”

  “That relationship is a big reason why I’m here.” Cole ushered sincerity into his words. “I’m committed to finding Nathan’s killer and whoever bombed his drill site.”

  “All right. If you’re ready, we can discuss the current findings.” Hughes lifted a brow over his glasses. “Agent Templeton, I’ll send you Cole’s background. I’m sure it will dissipate any misgivings in your mind.”

  She sat on the edge of her chair. “I would appreciate the information.”

  Cole cringed at the thought of how she’d interpret his law enforcement career . . . and how he’d resigned after . . . Maybe that part had been omitted.

  ASAC Hughes continued. “Agent Templeton, there are three reasons why I requested Cole be added to the case. He has experience working on an oil rig, what can go wrong and the temperature of the workers. Secondly, he and I worked on a case together several years ago—an oil rig bombing and a murder. The third reason is his friendship with Nathan Moore. He’ll have valuable insight into the habits and personality of the victim. Your role as a friend to Sally Moore can be just as important as long as you and Cole remain objective. Are we in agreement?”

  Both responded positively.

  “Good. I have the report on the Moore oil rig bombing, and the EPA has been cleared. But that doesn’t mean activists didn’t take matters into their own hands.”

  Cole nodded.

  “I’ll send the updates to your phones. Currently we have the court order to mirror image Nathan Moore’s business and attorney’s files. The judge expedited matters in light of the bombing and the alleged threats on Moore’s life. The order also includes imaging those devices for the entire family. In the morning, a CART—” he glanced at Cole—“Computer Analysis Response Team, a group of agents and professional support employees who are trained in digital forensics, will be at the Moore office to handle the process. The Moores’ attorney, Jacob Farr, has agreed to cooperate, but he also tossed the attorney-client privilege card. Tori, you have training and experience with CART, so I suggest you and Cole image the devices at the Moore home.” He handed Tori a document. “Here’s a copy of the court order.”

  She turned to Cole. “I’ll pick up a tool kit for the Moores. Shall we handle the personal mirror imaging after our meeting here? Follow up with the team in the morning at Nathan’s office?”

  “Perfect.”

  “My partner will most likely join us tomorrow,” she said.

  The ASAC leaned forward. “Cole and I already discussed the situation, but I didn’t tell him this is Agent Dublin’s last case. However, professionalism is a priority.”

  “I see,” she said. The ASAC was aware of how Sally had been treated.

  “One more thing—he doesn’t know about the task force. I’ll handle it before I leave the office.”

  “A question.” Agent Templeton glared at Cole, not that he blamed her. Cole felt the distinct wall, built with distrust and suspicion. One he’d erected in the early hours of the day and one he’d need to tear down to work with her effectively. “Are you a former cop?”

  “Marine. Why?”

  “US Marshals are usually a bit gritty. Trying to figure out what to expect. A little advice here,” Agent Templeton said. “Don’t bring up the cancer to Max. His attitude is already pushing our buttons.”

  “Advice noted.” He’d handle Max in his own way.

  LATE TUESDAY AFTERNOON, Albert Weiman rang the doorbell of the home belonging to Nathan and Sally Moore. The widow needed to know ho
w sorry he was for her husband’s untimely death. How had this happened? The situation perplexed him . . . needled at his conscience. He crunched on a breath mint so she wouldn’t be able to tell he’d been drinking.

  As Sally came to the door, he squared his shoulders and mustered congeniality into his tone. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Moore. I’m no doubt a stranger to you. My name is Albert Weiman. You knew my son, Erik, in college. May I come in?”

  The delicate blonde smiled. No makeup and yet extremely attractive as he remembered. She opened the door, but instead of inviting him inside, she stood on the porch. Her gaze took in a bodyguard not far from where they stood.

  “Yes, I remember Erik, and you and I have met.”

  “I’d like to offer my condolences on behalf of my son in the death of your husband.”

  “Thank you. How is Erik?”

  Albert wanted to shout, scream. Instead, he fixed a grim smile. “Unfortunately confined to a wheelchair, but we haven’t given up on finding a treatment.”

  Shock spread across her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was ill.”

  Nathan had been informed . . . and could have helped. “Multiple sclerosis. Progressive relapsing.”

  “My sincere sympathy, Mr. Weiman.” Her shoulders fell as though the news saddened her. “Not sure if you remember I’m a nurse. Isn’t he responding to medication?”

  “A year ago corticosteroids reduced the nerve inflammation in his brain and spinal cord. The drugs are no longer effective.”

  “How sad Erik’s condition is worsening. How are his spirits?”

  “A combination of pain and weakness has pushed him into severe depression. I’m his caretaker.” Albert stiffened and ordered his emotions to stop reacting. “I’m not here to discuss my son’s MS. Erik asked me to speak to you, and would have done so in person if physically able.”

  Her features softened. “Please tell him I appreciate his concern.”

  What a great actress. “When the boys were younger, Nathan spent quite a bit of time at our house.” He fought real tears for his precious son. “I still think of them as boys.”

  “Yes, I remember their friendship.” Her fingers pressed against her knuckles. “When was the last time you saw my husband?”