“I’m not sure what’s so difficult about this.” Sabrina unlocked the evidence closet. “You open your mouth. Words come out.”
“Fine,” he said. “We almost died at Lisa Palmer’s house a few hours ago. We don’t know who fired the RPG or where they might be hiding. While we may want to assume the attack was intended not to kill us but to destroy evidence, the reality is that the person who fired knew where we were and knew there was a good chance we would not be able to get away in time.”
“I understand all of that,” she said. None of this was new information.
“Ryan, Anissa, and Gabe are all there. Now.”
The weight of Adam’s observation settled over her and the walls suddenly seemed to close in. She reached for a chair and sat down. Hard.
“I’m sorry.” Adam knelt in front of her. “I was trying not to scare you.”
“What if he comes back? What if he kills them?”
Adam didn’t shrug off her worries. He didn’t even try to ease them. She wasn’t imagining the risk.
“That’s why she’s stressed.” Now it made sense.
“Yes.”
“And that’s why you’re stressed.”
“Yes.”
“And why you’ve agreed to stay at Leigh’s tonight.”
“Yes.” Adam rested his hands on her knees. “Let’s get this taken care of so we can get over there.”
He stood. It took him a lot longer than it should have. “Are you okay?” she asked.
He gave her a tight smile. “It’s nothing that won’t heal. Are you okay?”
Was she?
She’d almost died today. Twice. And she hadn’t had time to think about it. Maybe she could talk to Leigh tonight. Leigh might be able to help her make some sense out of the jumble of emotions flooding through her.
Relief at being alive. Fear for her friends—and herself. Worry about what she was going to find on this hard drive and what implications it might have for her own family.
And then there was the way her heart ricocheted around in her chest whenever Adam touched her. The way chills raced across her skin and her breath caught in her chest.
If she kissed him, would he respond the way she shouldn’t hope he would?
She looked at him, still waiting on her to respond to his question, and she knew.
He would.
“Bri?”
She was looking at him . . . no, she was looking . . . at his mouth? No. But?
No.
She shook her head like she was trying to clear it, then winced. If she felt anything like he did right now, she had to be hurting.
“I’m okay,” she said. “Let me see if I can get anything off this drive.”
He watched as she connected the drive to a write blocker. He’d learned all about them when they were setting up the procedures between her lab and the sheriff’s office. The write blocker kept anything from accidentally being written onto the hard drive and prevented anything currently on the hard drive from being modified. Going through this step kept everything forensically sound and was critical if they ever needed to use anything she recovered from the hard drive as evidence in court.
He breathed a huge sigh of relief when she was able to power up the drive and successfully duplicate it. Once the original drive was safely tucked back into the evidence closet, her forensic software scanned all the recovered files, indexed them, and then marked them if they were damaged or encrypted.
And a lot of them were encrypted.
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” She gave him a gleeful smile. “I love cracking encryptions.”
He loved to watch her work, but today he needed to stay focused. And it wasn’t like he could do anything to help her. When she started talking about building custom dictionaries to use as an attack on the encrypted files, whatever that meant, he left her to it.
He returned to the computer he’d claimed and continued his own search into the life of Lisa Palmer. Where she’d come from, what she’d done, how she’d spent her money, where she’d liked to eat, play, shop, vacation.
Nothing was too small to consider.
He owed it to her.
No matter what she’d done, she’d come to him—or tried to come to him—for help. The least he could do was help her now.
But there wasn’t much to work with.
Lisa Palmer had worked alone. She’d been a good neighbor and had a good relationship with her sister.
No romantic liaisons.
Gabe had people interviewing the rest of her neighbors, but Adam didn’t expect much to come from that.
She had bank accounts at Carrington First and at a national bank. She had some retirement and investment accounts with national funds—but no local financial advisor.
No surprise there. She wouldn’t have wanted anyone to have access to her financials.
He kept digging. Kept clicking. Until the words and numbers started swimming on the screen. He checked the clock. Almost eight.
“Bri?” He hadn’t heard anything more than the clicking of her keyboard in at least an hour. When she didn’t respond, he stood.
Wow. His back was one solid sheet of agony. No way he’d be able to get comfortable enough to sleep tonight. He twisted, shifted, and rolled his shoulders and neck before stepping away from the desk. “Bri?”
She had earbuds in. Her eyes fixed on the screen in front of her. Hands flying.
Wow. She was beautiful.
Without warning, she tossed her hands in the air—and grimaced as she reached back to massage the base of her neck. A pained and tired—yet satisfied—grin stretched across her face. “Gotcha.”
She caught him watching her and her face flushed. “It will take a while to get through all these files, but I’ve been able to crack 98 percent of them.”
“Awesome.”
“Yeah.” Her grin faded.
“What is it?”
She pulled a flash drive from the computer. “I’m wondering what we’re going to find. I have a bad feeling about this. Like it’s not going to be good.”
“Do you mean about your dad?”
“My dad. Yes. But also whoever she was working for that killed her. That tried to kill us. You don’t go around blowing up people with an RPG over a few years of tax evasion.”
“Well, we would hope not.”
That remark earned him a flicker of a smile. He needed to get her out of there. Somewhere she could decompress.
“Bri?” She looked up. “Can we go home?”
Relief mixed with something he couldn’t quite put a finger on crossed her face. “Yes.”
It took her a while to back everything up, shut everything down, and get to her feet. She moved slowly. He knew she had to be in agony and didn’t try to rush her. She winced as she retrieved her bag from the floor beside her desk. “Ready.”
When they stepped into the hall, they were met by two uniformed officers standing on either side of the door. Both of whom looked like they’d just graduated high school and couldn’t possibly be old enough to be on the force. He recognized one of them. Ben something. “Ben? What’s going on?”
“Hey, Adam, Dr. Fleming,” Ben said. “We’re here to escort you wherever you wish to go.”
“Seriously?” Sabrina looked at Adam. “You need a bodyguard?”
“Investigators Chavez, Parker, and Bell insisted, ma’am.” The other officer nodded at Sabrina in a manner that was all too appreciative and not nearly deferential enough. “My name’s Zac,” he said. “I was standing there when they were talking to the captain. I don’t know what you two are doing, but it must be crucial to the investigation.”
“Dr. Fleming is a cybersecurity and computer forensics expert,” Adam said. “At this point, she is the investigation.”
Zac shared a look with Ben. “Yes, sir.”
“They seemed to think you were pretty important as well, sir,” Ben said.
So they sent baby cops to babysit them? Why didn’t he feel
safer?
“Fine,” he said. “We’re headed to Dr. Fleming’s place so she can pack a bag. Then we’re going to a friend’s house for the night.”
“Together?” Zac’s implication was clear.
“Oh, no, I mean—” Sabrina started to explain.
“Yes.” Adam placed a hand on Sabrina’s back. They didn’t owe this little punk an explanation, and when Sabrina wasn’t present, he would be sure to point out to him how inappropriate that remark had been.
“Of course, sir. Sorry.”
He would be. They didn’t speak as they took the elevator down to the main floor. When the doors opened, Ben put his arm out. “Sir, if you don’t mind . . .”
Adam leaned against the elevator wall. “Go ahead.” Sabrina followed his lead and waited with him.
The officers stepped out and returned a few moments later. “We’re clear.”
Two minutes later they were in Adam’s car, the young officers following them. “What was that about?” Sabrina asked. “You let that guy get the wrong impression. He thinks we’re . . . well, you know.”
Yeah. He knew. “He was already thinking that,” Adam said. “His job is to do his job. Not to question you about your activities.”
“I don’t know about that.” Sabrina looked out the window. “Seems like he was trying to understand the situation fully so he would know how best to act.”
“He was trying to understand the situation fully so he would know if he could ask you out,” Adam said.
Sabrina scoffed. “Unlikely.”
“Absolute certainty.”
“You’re biased,” she said.
“You got that right. Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
She laughed. “He’s not my type anyway.”
She had a type? He wanted to know what her type was, but what if she said she could only see herself with another academic? Like that Mike guy she was talking about earlier. Or maybe she preferred body builders. Or guys who were good with their hands—woodworkers or artists. Or musicians.
But she didn’t elaborate. Maybe he could get her to say more. “Not your type?”
“Definitely not.”
That wasn’t helpful.
She closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh. “I’m not sure if I have ever been this tired,” she said. “It’s not that I’m sleepy. It’s more like an all-encompassing fatigue. My body hurts. My mind won’t shut down, even though it needs to.”
He reached for her hand and she laced her fingers through his. They rode the rest of the way to her house in silence. The baby cops went inside her house first, gave them the all clear, then returned to their car. Adam followed Sabrina inside and then sat in her tiny living area while she packed. She said she only needed ten minutes.
He scanned the small space, intrigued by what it might tell him about this woman who had completely taken over his mind and heart.
There were a few magazines. Some fun figurines.
But only one picture, and it wasn’t of her family.
A small four-by-six snapshot sat on the tiny corner table. A young Sabrina—she might have been eight or nine—smiled at a stunning Hispanic woman. The woman was probably in her twenties, and she was smiling at Sabrina with a level of adoration that pierced his heart.
This must be Rosita.
And at least in the moment this photograph captured, it was clear she’d adored Sabrina.
He needed to talk to Sabrina about her relationship with her family and what made her think Rosita had been a slave.
But the day had been so crazy that there hadn’t been time.
Tomorrow they would make time.
11
Three hours later, Sabrina sat on the edge of Leigh’s bed while Leigh listened to her breathing.
“Is this really necessary?”
Leigh held a finger up. Right. Talking would mess up whatever breath sounds Leigh was listening for.
She took six more deep breaths in and out before Leigh stepped back and removed the stethoscope from her ears.
“You sound fine,” she said. “How much does it hurt?”
“What? Breathing? It’s hard to say. It’s blended in with all the other hurts.”
Leigh put the stethoscope on the dresser. “You need to take the pain meds Dr. Sloan prescribed.”
“I don’t want them.”
Leigh leaned against the dresser, arms crossed. “So you want to hurt all night, not sleep, and then not be able to do what you need to do tomorrow?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“That’s what’s going to happen.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Leigh handed her the bottle of pills. “You think too much.”
“I still need to talk to Adam,” she said.
“It’s almost midnight. And these will take about thirty minutes to kick in,” Leigh said. “You aren’t planning on keeping him up half the night, are you? Because he needs to rest as well. He’s—”
“What’s wrong with him that I don’t know about? Are you keeping something from me?”
Leigh had set up a little rotating clinic twenty minutes earlier. Gabe had gone first. Then Adam. She was the last one.
“He got blown up today. Same as you. And while you get to add a concussion to it, he gets to add a chunk of the roof slamming into his back while he was protecting you from being squashed. The bottom line is that you’re both a mess. I don’t care what you need to talk about. I want you both in bed in thirty minutes. Take the medicine. Go talk to him. And then get in bed.”
“I might need more than thirty minutes,” she said.
“Then wait until tomorrow.”
Could she wait until tomorrow? Would she be able to sleep if she didn’t get it all off her chest now? Probably not. “Fine.”
Leigh followed her down the stairs. She stuttered to a stop at the bottom and Leigh almost slammed into her. “What?” Leigh asked.
Sabrina pointed.
Adam was standing with his back to them. No shirt. Gabe, Ryan, and Anissa were all standing behind him. His entire back was red except for the large stripe across the middle that was bandaged.
“Oh. Yeah. It’s going to look worse before it looks better,” Leigh whispered in her ear.
“Dude,” Gabe was saying. “I can’t believe it didn’t break your back. That thing weighed a ton.”
“How are you even moving?” Anissa pointed to a place where blood had seeped through the bandage. “You are—”
“In bad shape.” Ryan finished the thought.
“I’m fine,” Adam said.
“All that red is going to turn some nasty colors and you’re going to hurt worse tomorrow.” Gabe said this with authority. Had he ever had an injury like this? None of them took issue with his pronouncement, so maybe he had.
“Better me than her,” Adam said.
Ryan and Gabe both said, “True.”
“Here.” Ryan handed Adam his shirt.
“Thanks.” He tried to put the shirt on, but the effort was clearly painful. Anissa took it from him and held it out so he could slide one arm in, then the other. Adam turned around to face them and there was no way for Sabrina to pretend she wasn’t gawking at him.
He hurried to button his shirt. “Hey, Bri. You get the all clear from the medical authorities?” Ryan, Gabe, and Anissa scattered at his words, looking for all the world like three little kids who’d been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Or in this case, like three grown adults who were supposed to be her friends who had been caught hiding from her how bad Adam’s injuries were.
She turned on Leigh. “You said he was okay.”
“He is.” Leigh reached for her arm, but Sabrina pulled it away.
“There was nothing okay about that.” Sabrina could hear the hysteria in her own voice, but she couldn’t seem to find any way back to rational thought. “I thought you just checked him out. I saw blood.”
“Bri.” Adam’s voice cut through her rant.
<
br /> She turned back to him. “You told me you were fine,” she said. “You’ve been sitting in the lab, and working, and—”
“So have you,” he said.
“I’m not . . . I don’t have . . .” She didn’t even know how to describe Adam’s back.
“No, you just have a concussion and stitches,” Adam said.
“But that—”
“Looks worse than it feels.” He spoke in a soothing tone, but it only annoyed her more.
“I don’t believe you.” She turned to fuss at Leigh, but she was gone. They were all gone. When had everyone else disappeared? Chickens. If they thought getting away from her would somehow spare them from her wrath, they didn’t know her well at all.
“Are you sure you’re okay? Because you’re not being quite as logical as you usually are.” Adam frowned as he studied her face.
“How am I supposed to be rational when it looks like—”
“Like a roof landed on my back today? From what I could see, it looks exactly like I would expect it to.”
Was he . . . laughing? “This isn’t funny.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m rather enjoying it.”
“What do you mean you’re enjoying it?”
“I’m not enjoying the way my back feels, but I’m intrigued by your reaction to it. Why are you upset?”
“How could I not be upset?”
“Leigh isn’t upset. Neither is Anissa.”
“They’re used to this kind of stuff,” she said.
“I don’t think that’s it.” His hand slid around her waist. “I’m wondering if maybe you’re upset for some other reason.”
“Of course I am. You were protecting me. And now you’re all battered. And everyone lied to me about it. And it’s . . . it’s my fault you’re hurt.”
“Oh baby.” He glanced around. Maybe he’d realized no one was in the room. “Come with me.”
She followed him, and they wound up on the covered, screened-in part of the back deck. Lake Porter glistened in the moonlight behind them. “We need to talk.”
Oh no. Even with her limited experience, she knew those words were the kiss of death.
“Would you like to sit?” Adam pointed to an overstuffed chair.
“No. I want to talk.”
In Too Deep Page 13