Winter Black Box Set 2

by Mary Stone

  He dreaded the conversation that was about to unfold.

  In the interest of their safety, he hadn’t mentioned word one about his agreement with the Russians to Kelly, Ethan, or Natalie. Now, Natalie had been kidnapped, her husband was dead, and Kelly and Ethan had been locked away only God knew where.

  Secrets had gotten him nowhere.

  Swallowing in a vain effort to alleviate the dryness in his mouth, Eric willed himself to speak. “Hey, honey.”

  Even to his own ears, the greeting sounded asinine. Hey, honey? Their daughter had been kidnapped, and he had the audacity to greet his wife like he was just returning home from a day of work.

  He’d been so sure he could handle the agreement with Alek. He’d been so sure that his and Kelly’s and Natalie’s and Jon’s lives would go back to normal once he’d upheld his end of the arrangement. He’d been so sure he could convince Noah to see the situation from his perspective. He’d been sure of everything, and now it was all crumbling around him.

  In less than a day and a half, the Russians would execute his daughter, unless he came through for them.

  No, they wouldn’t just execute her, they’d shoot her in the stomach and let her die an agonizing death.

  Just like his son-in-law.

  “Eric?” Kelly’s hurried tone jerked him back to reality.

  “Yeah, honey, it’s me. I’m…I’m sorry.” His voice cracked, and he had to stop because of the tightness in his throat.

  “You’re sorry?” Kelly let out an incredulous laugh. “I don’t think that quite covers all this, does it? Our daughter has been kidnapped, and you didn’t think you needed to tell me? No, no, wait. Our daughter was kidnapped because you made a deal with the fucking mob, and you didn’t feel the need to tell me? Honestly, Eric, I can’t even begin to try to piece this shit together. What the hell did you do?”

  He propped an elbow atop the dining room table and dropped his face into his hand. “I tried to fix it. The medical bills, everything that piled up after the accident, I tried to fix it, but I just made it worse.”

  “Medical bills?” she echoed. “What the hell are you talking about? You told me they were manageable!”

  At her strained tone, he winced. He hadn’t wanted her to find out about the gap in their insurance. She’d blame herself—that’s just how Kelly Dalton was. She tended to shoulder the responsibility for far more than she should.

  Clearing his throat, he straightened in his seat and raked a hand through his hair. “They weren’t. The physical therapy, the visits to the specialist, none of it was covered.”

  “What?” She guffawed, a loud, bitter sound. “Three-hundred grand, that’s how much you said we owed. What, are you saying that you just hid all those statements from me and let that debt pile up while I kept going to those appointments? What in the hell is wrong with you?”

  “The three hundred was after.”

  “After what?” The sharpness had left her voice. Now, she sounded nervous. Frightened.

  “After the money they gave me.” He had to grate the words out from between clenched teeth. Every instinct told him to keep the truth to himself, but he had come far past the point of no return.

  “They? The mob?”

  “I’m sorry.” There was nothing else he could say. No matter how he thought to rationalize his decision to himself, he couldn’t bring himself to speak the words aloud.

  “We’re way past that now.” Her voice was quiet, the words little more than a whisper. “You should have told me. We could have figured something out. You didn’t have to…to do this. You put our whole family, our entire lives at risk, and...” Her voice broke, and he could hear a muffled cry he knew she was desperate to hide.

  He wanted to say something to assure her they would be okay, but if he couldn’t even convince himself, then how in the hell was he supposed to convince her?

  Kelly took in a shaky breath. “I’m not even mad right now, I’m just…just disappointed. I don’t know if I can forgive you for this.”

  The statement was calm and matter of fact.

  He dropped his face in his hands.

  He’d been so sure he could handle this.

  24

  Noah half-expected Autumn to ignore his text message altogether, but her response was almost immediate. He’d asked her about her plans for the evening, and whether or not she’d be interested in a nostalgic trip to her old place of employment—a ski-lodge-themed bar called The Lift. The bar was owned and operated by a long-time family friend of Autumn’s adopted parents, a woman Autumn referred to as her aunt. Autumn had since moved on to a far more lucrative career than part-time bartender, and ever since, their trips to The Lift had tapered off.

  Sure. Just leave the interrogation bullshit at home.

  He almost groaned aloud at the message. I deserved that. Meet you there at 7:30?

  Her reply lit up the screen before he even had a chance to set the phone back on the coffee table. See you then.

  Though the sentiment might have been premature, he blew out a sigh of relief. Maybe she didn’t hate him completely after all.

  Ever since he’d departed Winter’s company at the Baltimore airport earlier, his thoughts had been scattered to the four corners of the earth. Unless it was related to the case, he couldn’t focus on any one line of thought for what felt like more than thirty seconds.

  By now, he’d lost count of the number of times he’d patted the scratch marks on his back to reassure himself his night with Winter had been real. If she hadn’t dug her nails into his shoulders, he likely would have convinced himself that the whole thing was a vivid dream.

  Shaking himself out of the recollection, he forced his attention back to the television. He had an hour before he had to leave to meet with Autumn, and he spent the entire sixty minutes trying in vain to focus on Anthony Bourdain. Even then, all he could do was lament the tragic circumstances of Bourdain’s death.

  Though he wasn’t likely to admit as much to anyone he didn’t know, Noah had moped around his apartment for a solid two days after he learned of Anthony Bourdain’s suicide. He’d been a follower of Bourdain for years, and he’d always hoped to meet the renowned chef and travel enthusiast.

  If his thoughts weren’t fixated on Winter or Anthony Bourdain, then they drifted to Eric Dalton. Specifically, Bree’s ominous warning from that morning.

  As soon as the digital clock of the cable box switched to seven o’clock, he all but leapt from his seat to turn off the television and leave for The Lift. With any luck, apologizing to Autumn would alleviate a portion of the stress that plagued him.

  He didn’t think much of the black sedan that pulled out of the parking lot after him until he realized that the car had followed him past a second turn. Narrowing his eyes at the rearview mirror, he made a mental note of the make and model. A Mazda sedan with lightly tinted windows, a man behind the wheel, and a license plate he couldn’t quite discern. Though his first thought was to write the sighting off as paranoia, his pulse picked up as he neared the bar.

  Glancing from the mirror to the road, he flicked on his turn signal as he prepared to turn into the parking lot. The driver slowed behind him, but no blinker flashed to life.

  People neglected to use their blinkers all the time.

  As he rounded the sharp turn into the worn lot, the Mazda sped off down the street. Until the car was out of his vision, Noah hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath.

  Good lord, he was starting to lose it. If it hadn’t been for the early workday tomorrow, he would have ordered himself a couple shots as soon as he walked through the familiar double doors.

  Despite his early departure, Autumn had still beat him there. From where she was seated in the same booth they’d always used during their frequent visits in the past, she raised a hand and waved. With as much of a smile as he could muster, Noah returned the gesture as he approached the bar.

  Since it was a weeknight, he didn’t have to wait long before h
e had a fresh pint glass of seasonal beer in hand. As he approached Autumn, she locked the screen of her smartphone and set the device on top of the wooden table. From just above the rim of her glass, she fixed her eyes on him as he took his seat.

  There was more to her gaze than mere scrutiny. Whenever she looked at him like that, Noah was sure she could see straight through any façade he might think to enact.

  And she thought he was the interrogation expert.

  Sliding into the cushioned booth, he bit back a sigh. “All right, let’s just address the elephant in the room and get that out of the way.”

  She folded her arms on the table in front of herself, but she didn’t speak. There was just more of that unsettling stare.

  “I’m sorry I grilled you when I saw you at the office. You’re right. If I wanted to know what was going on with Winter, I should’ve asked Winter. It wasn’t cool of me to put you in that position, and I’m sorry.”

  The corner of her mouth turned up in a smile. “I appreciate you saying so. Thank you, and apology accepted.”

  For the first time since he’d spotted the black Mazda, his pulse started to return to normal. Returning her smile, he held out his glass of beer. A light clink sounded out as she tapped the edge of her glass to his.

  After another swig of the pumpkin-based brew, he set the drink to the side and returned his attention to Autumn. “For what it’s worth now, I asked her about it, and she told me. I get why she kept the whole creepy email thing between you guys. It’s just that, back when we were looking for The Preacher, before we knew he was Douglas Kilroy…”

  He paused to scratch the side of his face. He didn’t know how much Winter had told her about the Kilroy investigation, nor was he sure how much she was comfortable with him revealing. But if he didn’t give voice to the source of his trepidation, he thought his head might implode.

  When Autumn’s green eyes narrowed, he suddenly realized how long he’d been silent.

  “Wait,” she said. “Did you guys bang or something?”

  Warmth spread over his cheeks as his eyes widened. “What?”

  Leaning back in her seat, she offered him an exaggerated shrug. “Hey, no judgment, man. It’s been a long time coming, if you ask me.”

  “What?” He sounded like a trained parakeet. “Jesus, woman, who are you?” The question wasn’t quite what he had in mind, but it’d have to work.

  To his relief, Autumn started to snicker. “Would you believe me if I said I was created in a lab in Area 51?”

  He nodded like the answer should have been obvious. “Yes.”

  As her laughter intensified, he couldn’t help but join in the amused outburst. Finally, after damn near an entire week, he felt some semblance of ease return.

  “Okay, okay.” She patted the air with a hand as she took another drink. “I’m sorry. I interrupted you. You were saying something about what it was like during the Kilroy investigation.”

  Thanks to the moment of levity, he didn’t feel so unsure about bringing up those dark days. As he launched into the explanation, Autumn remained quiet aside from the occasional “mm-hmm.”

  Noah was surprised at how cathartic it felt to finally reveal his take on the events to someone else—someone who knew Winter almost as well as he did. He went through virtually the entire Kilroy case. From Tala Delosreyes, to Winter’s surprise transition to the BAU, to the fatal shot that wiped the stain that was Douglas Kilroy off the face of the planet. As he went over Winter’s abrupt departure after the end of the case, he noted a glint of sympathy in Autumn’s eyes.

  Straightening in her seat, Autumn polished off the rest of her beer. “You’re worried that’ll happen again.” The words were a statement, not a question. “Worried that she’ll abruptly cut you out so she can chase after her brother by herself.”

  All he could offer in response was a nod.

  She reached over and gave his hand a quick squeeze. “That’s a valid concern, and, honestly, you’re totally justified in feeling that way. But I don’t think this is the same type of pursuit. The motivation for finding Justin is much different than it was searching for Douglas Kilroy. There’s none of that anger or hate, none of that need for revenge left anymore. It’s more a pursuit of closure.”

  “Closure,” he echoed. Just like that, all the puzzle pieces dropped into place.

  “Yeah. Revenge is personal. It’s something that you have to do by yourself to really achieve it. But closure’s different. That feeling will still be the same no matter who finds Justin. Even if it’s some random Richmond police officer, the end result will be the same. Winter just wants to make sure it’s all being handled right, and she was frustrated because she had to deal with the case she’d been assigned.”

  “Can’t say I blame her,” he muttered into his glass.

  Autumn mouthed the word “oh” as she nodded. “Right, I forgot that her current case is Eric Dalton. The donor of half your DNA. Which probably added to her irritation, needing to protect a man who’d been a bastard to her friend.”

  Heaving a sigh, he pushed the emptied pint to the edge of the table. “Yeah. He’s in debt to the mob, believe it or not. And despite absolutely no communication with me for, oh, I don’t know,” he paused to make a show of counting on his fingers, “nearly twenty years, he’s here in town because he thinks I’ll drop everything I’m doing and help his stupid ass.”

  Autumn wrinkled her nose. “Help him with what?”

  At the simple inquiry, he laughed and spread his hands. “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? He claims he made some agreement to start laundering money for the mob, and now they’ve kidnapped his daughter, my half-sister, as collateral, but the more we dig into this thing, the less and less likely that seems.”

  She tapped a finger against her pursed lips.

  “What? What’s that look for? You got an idea what he’s here for?”

  With a shake of her head, she dropped her arm back to the table. “No, not without talking to the guy.”

  He nearly sprang to his feet, grabbed her hand, and raced with her to the safe house. Instead, he leaned forward, looking at her intently. “You should.”

  “I should what?”

  “Talk to him. Ask him why he’s here. Ask him what’s rattling around in that damn head of his.”

  Before he’d even finished the suggestion, she was shaking her head. “No. Unless you need a clinical psychological interview, no. I’m a psychologist, not an interrogation specialist. Get Aiden to help you with it. He’s got a badge, and I don’t.”

  He flashed her a grin. “But you’ve got a law degree, and he doesn’t.”

  Crossing both arms over her black t-shirt, she rolled her eyes.

  He raised a hand before she could launch into her counterpoint. “No, no. I’m just kidding.”

  Their banter for the next half-hour turned more lighthearted, and by the time they both stood to don their jackets, he felt like a monumental weight had been lifted from his tired shoulders. As they continued a conversation about the television shows they were planning to watch over the coming weeks, they paid their tabs and made their way past the bouncer and out into the night.

  Virtually the second Noah stepped onto the sidewalk, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He didn’t know how, he didn’t know why, but he was certain someone was watching them. Glancing back and forth, he spotted a couple college-aged girls walking to their car, but otherwise, the lot was still.

  Just before he was about to look back to Autumn, he saw it.

  Parked in the row behind the girls’ car was a black Mazda sedan.

  The chill of adrenaline flowed freely through his veins as his pulse pounded in his ears. Clenching and unclenching one hand, he gritted his teeth.

  “What is it?” The gravity in Autumn’s voice took him aback.

  He inclined his chin in the direction of the car. “You see that black Mazda?”

  “Yeah, I see it. Looks like there’s someo
ne sitting in it.”

  He finally glanced over to Autumn. “That car followed me out of my apartment complex when I left to come here. They didn’t follow me in here, but that’s definitely the same car.”

  Her green eyes flicked back over to his. “Who do you think they’re watching? Me or you?”

  Furrowing his brows, he pulled his keys from a pocket. “Why would someone be watching you?”

  She snort-laughed. “Because I shot and killed a mafia hitman not all that long ago. Seems like something they might take personally.”

  His sarcastic chuckle came unbidden. “Fair enough. But since they followed me here, I think it’s safe to say they’re creeping on me. You walked here tonight, didn’t you?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay, come on. I’ll give you a lift home.”

  As diligently as he tried to hide the unease from his demeanor, he doubted the effort was much of a success.

  Just like that, all the worries about his and Winter’s relationship were shoved to the backburner.

  He could only hope that, whoever in the hell they were, they kept their sights fixed on him, and not Autumn.

  But over the last several days, he’d learned how the Russians operated. He knew about their penchant for using friends and loved ones to get to their target.

  He knew his hope was wishful thinking.

  With a sigh, I leaned back against the couch and turned my vacant stare to the ceiling. I hadn’t even bothered to turn on the lights since I got home.

  I’d learned earlier in the day that the investigation of the federal agent Sergei killed had been completely handed over to the FBI. It didn’t matter what resources I tried to tap into at the police station, no one in the Baltimore PD was privy to the inner workings of a federal investigation unless the Feds wanted them to be.

  Apparently, the Feds didn’t want us involved.