“My cell? But I thought—”
“There’s a pretty good security app that’s free. We’re going to download it.”
“Will it keep me from being hacked?”
“It will make it a lot harder. Here, give me your phone.”
I leaned over and fished it out of my bag, and watched as he went to the app store, downloaded something, and installed it. After a minute, he gave it back. “It’s really easy to use. Just follow the directions. Oh, and I disabled your GPS and location tracker, too. Don’t use them.”
“Really?”
He nodded. He wasn’t kidding.
I bit my lip, scanned the app, and pressed a few buttons to see what was there. Then I lay back against the pillows, my anger dissipating. “Thanks. I know you’re trying to help.”
Now he smiled. “And I know you hate to be rescued. But I’m—I don’t want anything to happen to you. I love you.”
I stroked his cheek and played with his beard. “I’m sorry. I overreacted.”
“I know people. I can find out things…”
“About Delcroft? And what they’re working on?”
He nodded.
“Is that really necessary? We already have a general idea.”
“The more we know, the better positioned we’ll be.”
“For what?”
He shrugged. “Who knows?”
“Once a Boy Scout…”
He smiled. “That. And something else.”
“What’s that?”
“As long as I’m around, no one is going to touch a hair on your beautiful head.”
How can you argue with that? I opened my arms. They didn’t remain empty for long.
Chapter Twenty-five
Saturday
“You sure Zach’s okay?” I asked Georgia Davis on the phone the next morning. I gazed out the kitchen window. An inch of new snow covered the sludge of the past few weeks, promising a day of purity and innocence.
“He’s fine, Ellie. He left work early. In fact, he was at a movie with his girlfriend when it happened.”
“What about his dog?”
“I’m sure he’s okay. Zach would have said something.”
“Okay.”
There was a long pause. Then: “Ellie, what kind of trouble are you in? Do you need help?”
“I—I don’t know. But I’d really like to know who was behind the explosion.”
“Wouldn’t we all. Be prepared, by the way. You’re gonna be getting a visit from the cops. Maybe the feds, too.”
“That’s going to be a barrel of laughs.”
“You know you can’t—”
I cut her off. “I know. But I don’t want to answer their questions.”
“Come on, Ellie, this is a felony crime. You know they’re going to ask Zach who his clients are. Your name is going to come up.”
“Crap.”
Another pause. “You sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?”
I thought about Delcroft, Hollander, and Parks. Then I imagined Dan O’Malley, the village chief of police, or one of his deputies interviewing them. Especially the deputy COO at the meeting—what was his name?—Phillips. Gary Phillips. By the time they finished, my reputation, and my bank account, would be heading even further south. Not to mention that as soon as someone said, “Chinese spy,” the FBI would swoop in. Maybe the CIA, too. And if anything made it into the media, which, of course, it eventually would, Delcroft would take a hit. And all because I was fired from a job and wanted to know why. I buried my head in my hands. What had I done?
• • •
I found out an hour later when an unmarked car with a Mars light on top pulled up to the house. Police. A beefy man in a bulky coat climbed out. It wasn’t O’Malley, and I didn’t know who it was. Then again, a coat and muffler partially hid his face. That wasn’t the case with the sports car that pulled up behind him, a silver Spyder, its fender glinting in the sun. Who the hell had the nerve to drive a sports car in winter in Chicago? Suddenly my head jerked up. I knew that car. And its owner.
As if on cue, a lean, lanky man unfolded himself from the driver’s seat. He wore jeans, a black leather jacket, and work boots. A pair of gloves and muffler seemed to be his only concession to the season. As he strolled up to the door, I recognized the green ball cap on his head, which bore the white letters “Different Drummer Charter Fishing.”
I sucked in a breath. “This morning just gets better and better.”
Luke shot me a questioning glance.
The doorbell chimed.
When I opened the door, the man from the unmarked already had his badge out. “Detective Frank Delaney, village police.”
“Good morning,” I said. He looked me over, then did the same to Luke.
Luke stuck out his hand. “Luke Sutton. A friend of Ms. Foreman’s.”
Delaney nodded as if he already knew, but the man in the ball cap tilted his head and gave Luke a curious once-over.
“And this is FBI Special Agent Nick LeJeune,” Delaney said.
I nodded. “I’ve had the pleasure.”
LeJeune grinned. “Hello, cher. It’s been a while.”
I motioned to the Spyder parked at the curb. “Same car? How many years has it been?”
“Eleven. Just getting broken in.” He grinned. “You look exactly the same, cher. How’s your daughter? She still like fast cars and faster men?” I was reminded how Rachel, at fourteen, had been so enamored of LeJeune and his car that he let her take it for a spin around the block. I shook my head. Had I really been that cavalier?
Now I frowned. “She’s good. She’s twenty-five.”
“She couldn’t be. Where is she?”
Delaney shifted his feet. “Do you mind if we continue this inside? It’s pretty damn cold.”
“Of course.” I opened the door wide, and they stepped in. A wave of cold air wafted in with them. I turned back to LeJeune. “Rachel’s downtown. Working for a nonprofit. Helping women in transition find jobs.”
“How noble.” LeJeune nodded. “Like her mother. She single?”
“She is. And don’t you dare get within a mile of her.”
His smile widened, and he took off his hat.
When I knew him, he had sandy hair threaded with gray. It was mostly gray now. But his eyes were the same penetrating green flecked with black, and he spoke with the same southern lilt, although it sometimes sounded like he was talking around a marble in his mouth. We’d met over ten years ago, when I’d been working on a video about the water-intake cribs on Lake Michigan, which, now that I thought about it, hadn’t been finished either. It wasn’t that I was fired—9/11 occurred in the middle of the shoot, and the water department prudently decided not to dispense information on how Chicago got its water.
But that wasn’t the end of the situation. I’d found evidence, quite by accident, that some bad guys were intent on doing nasty things to the city of Chicago, and LeJeune had been assigned to the case. Come to think of it, the circumstances now were eerily similar to what had happened then.
Luke, who had been very quiet during our exchange, extended his hand to LeJeune. “I’m Luke Sutton.”
“Yes. A friend of Ms. Foreman’s,” LeJeune said. “Well, well.”
I felt myself color.
Chapter Twenty-six
Saturday
I led the men into the living room and offered coffee, which everyone accepted. As I brought a tray in from the kitchen, I said, “Actually, Nick, I’m surprised to see you.”
“Anytime something goes boom, and we don’t know what it is, I get the call. You remember.”
I handed them mugs of coffee. “So you’re still in the antiterrorism division?”
He smiled. “I go where they tell me.”
Delaney sat in my father’s old chair, a comfortable wingback that he’d given me when he moved into the assisted living home. “Got to have something soft for my tuchus when I’m at your place,” Dad had said. Luke and I sat
on the sofa. LeJeune stood in front of the fireplace.
“So,” Delaney said after taking a sip from his mug. “Before we start, Dan O’Malley wanted me to tell you everything checked out with the subway accident. It’s been ruled a suicide.”
Luke peered at me. I knew he was wondering what the hell I’d done.
“Please give him my thanks.”
“I will. Now. Zach Dolan says you are one of his clients. Want to tell me what he’s doing for you?”
Not really, I thought. “I asked him to decrypt a flash drive. I wanted to know what was on it.”
“And you got this flash drive how?”
“It’s complicated.”
LeJeune leaned an elbow on the mantel. “We have all the time in the world.”
“I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to go into this.”
LeJeune answered. “You know better than that, cher. The Bureau is here to help our brethren in blue.”
“Right.” I couldn’t avoid the sarcasm in my voice. “What about keeping it out of the media?”
“If there’s a leak, it won’t be from us.”
I took a breath and told them the whole story. The Delcroft job. Being fired. Parks. The subway accident. Delaney nodded at that. Finding the drive. Hollander telling me Parks was a spy for the Chinese. Neither man took notes, but I figured one of them was recording me.
By the time I finished, Delaney leaned forward. “Let’s talk about timing. Did you know you were the only new client Zach picked up in the past couple of weeks?”
“He told you who his clients are?”
Delaney and LeJeune exchanged a glance. “We didn’t give him much choice,” LeJeune said.
“Your gentle persuasion won him over.”
“You always were quick, cher,” LeJeune said.
I was starting to be annoyed with the “chers” and his folksy, too familiar southern Creole ways. I knew he was from Cajun country, some parish in eastern Louisiana. I glanced over at Luke. He was trying to stay composed, but his right eye was half-closed. That happened when he’s upset.
“Did Dolan get back to you with any results from the drive?” LeJeune asked.
“Not yet. All he said was that it wasn’t a common encryption program.”
Both Delaney and LeJeune nodded. They already knew.
“Which of course could back up Hollander’s notion that Parks was a spy,” LeJeune said almost to himself. “Hey, Ellie. Do you have another copy of the drive?”
“Um, no,” I lied. I saw the skeptical expression on LeJeune’s face and covered it with a question. “What about the explosion itself?” I asked. “Do you have any idea what it was?”
“Our bomb and arson teams are on it.” He threw me a warning look. “And we’ll ask the questions here.”
LeJeune rolled his eyes as though he was poking fun at Delaney. “It’s already out, Detective. Some kind of IED.”
“Any idea what the components were?” Luke asked.
“Don’t know yet.” LeJeune cocked his head. “Why do you ask?”
“I just wondered if they might have been military sourced.”
LeJeune’s eyes flashed. I stiffened. I hadn’t told anyone what Charlotte Hollander had told me over drinks: that Delcroft had a contract with the military to produce a counterdrone system. And that she’d been working on its design for more than a year. Except Luke.
But LeJeune was no dummy. He’d want to know why Luke specifically brought up the military components. To my surprise, though, LeJeune glossed over Luke’s question. He must have decided this wasn’t the right time or place. Still, I knew he’d be looking into it.
“You were in the air force, weren’t you?” LeJeune said. “Did a couple of tours, right? Flying BUFFs.”
BUFFs were B-52 Stratofortress planes nicknamed “Big Ugly Fat Fuckers.” At one time they carried nukes but now they’re mostly cargo planes.
LeJeune had checked Luke out before coming here. Even though I knew he was just doing his job, and doing it well, I was irritated. What right did he have to investigate my boyfriend? I took a breath to steady myself.
“I enlisted,” Luke replied. “And yes. I flew missions in Iraq during the First Gulf War.”
As if he knew what I was feeling, LeJeune pasted on an angelic smile. “Of course you did. Just wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth.”
Luke’s eye was almost squeezed shut now.
I crossed my legs, my foot jiggling up and down. “Have you talked to Delcroft yet?”
LeJeune’s smile faded. The look he threw me said I was the dumbest fish in the tank.
“I should never have contacted Parks. I was just so angry at being fired. It’s all my fault.”
“But now you are helping your country,” LeJeune said. “Doing the patriotic thing.”
“Gee, thanks. I can’t wait for my medal. Assuming I live long enough to get it.” My foot jiggled even faster. “Look. It’s clear someone doesn’t want us to find out what’s on that drive. What if their next step is to come after me?”
Luke chimed in. “What about protection for her? What can you do?”
“Protection?” Delaney said.
“Her phone has been tapped,” Luke added. “And strangers have been casing her house.”
“Tell us,” Delaney said.
I told him about the fake workmen in front of the empty house. “And someone in a green Toyota was tailing me.”
“Describe them.”
“I never saw the driver of the Toyota, but I can describe the ‘workmen.’” I did, then added, “I can do you one better. I have their license plates.”
Delaney’s eyebrows rose. LeJeune smiled.
“And I’ll give them to you. On one condition.”
Delaney straightened. “I know you’re friends with Chief O’Malley, but that doesn’t entitle you to withhold evidence. You could—”
I cut in. “Once you identify them, you have to tell me who they are.”
“I don’t know,” Delaney said. “I’ll have to clear it with the chief.”
LeJeune gave Delaney a sidelong glance, then turned to me. “You can look up plates yourself these days, you know.”
“I know. But what if they hacked into my computer? They’ll know I’m looking for them.”
“Which is why she needs protection,” Luke said.
“You don’t think that’s a little far-fetched?” LeJeune said.
“In today’s climate?” Luke replied. “No. I don’t.”
“If protection is warranted, we’ll provide it,” Delaney said after a long moment.
“Which means that right now it isn’t,” Luke said. “So we’re on our own.”
“You look like you can handle yourself. And the lady.” LeJeune paused. “You know the drill. Don’t say anything on the phone you don’t want overheard. Don’t drive anywhere you don’t want to be followed. We’ll be in touch when we know something.”
Luke glanced at me, nodding.
I went into the kitchen, returned with the plate numbers, and handed them over.
“Good girl,” LeJeune said.
Girl? I bristled. Had he really called me a girl?
He winked as if he knew exactly what he’d done.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Saturday
After they’d gone I cleared the coffee mugs and set them in the kitchen sink. Luke followed me in. “So you want to tell me about this character?”
“There’s not much to say. I was working on a video about the water-intake cribs that got canceled because of 9/11. But I had outtakes of a guy—well, like I said, it gets complicated.”
“You seem to have a habit of getting fired.”
I whirled around, ready for battle.
“Just kidding.” He raised his palms. “The Bureau guy has a very high opinion of himself.”
“I think he’s the kind of person who skates over life’s surfaces but has trouble handling the currents underneath.”
“I
don’t have anything to worry about, do I?”
Was Luke jealous? This was a new experience. I dried my hands, went to him, and stroked his cheek. “From LeJeune? The only thing you have to worry about is that he knows the best Creole joints in Chicago.”
He leaned in and kissed me. “Still, I am worried. Not about him, but you. This can’t go on.”
“I get it.” I hesitated. “By the way”—I disengaged from his embrace and looked up—“there’s something else you should know.”
“What?”
“I do have a copy of the flash drive. I made it before I ran the first one over to Dolan.”
“Of course you did.” He sighed. “And whoever wants it probably knows it. Including LeJeune.”
“I had it all on my hard drive, but I deleted it the other night. I decided to keep the copy on me at all times. Just in case.”
“Why not put it in your safe-deposit box?”
“I’ll think about it.”
Luke folded his arms. “You might want to make your mind up soon. By the way, while you’re deciding, I’m going to do some due diligence of my own,” Luke said. “We’re not going to sit around waiting for someone to come after you.”
If LeJeune glided through life at his own pace, Luke attacked life head-on. He walked out of the kitchen. A moment later I heard him on his cell.
• • •
We piled into Luke’s pickup later that afternoon. Luke’s father had been a highly successful railroad magnate. He developed the automatic coupler between train cars, which made him a fortune. Luke had inherited all his wealth and could afford—well—a dozen Spyders. But flash wasn’t his style. He didn’t even want the new Benz pickup; he liked a Dodge Ram. The only concessions he’d made when he bought a new one were comfortable seats, AC, and a GPS, mostly for me.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll find out.”
“Oh, I just love secrets.”
He shot me a look, but then took a roundabout route across the North Shore, winding around streets, turning sharp corners, and twisting onto side streets, all in a seemingly random pattern.
“You think we’re being tailed?” I asked.
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