Desperate Play (Off the Grid: FBI Series Book 3)

by Barbara Freethy

  "Why was Ms. Caldwell at the apartment? Does she know something about the murder?"

  "No, but she's trying to figure out who killed her friend."

  "You need to get her out of this, Wyatt."

  "Too late for that. I'm concerned that not only was she at Noelle's side when she died, she also got a look at the guy in the apartment this morning. She could be in danger. I'm going to stay close. I have this feeling she's the key to something—I just don't know what. She's also tight with the Tremaines, and while I've developed a relationship with Hamilton, I've had little access to his sons, his daughter, or their spouses. Since Avery's father is living with Whitney Tremaine, Avery is in the immediate family circle. She might be able to help me."

  "Or she could turn them against you."

  "It's a risk, but I'm not worried about that right now."

  "What does Hamilton Tremaine think about Ms. Price's murder?"

  "He'd like to believe her death has nothing to do with his company. In fact, he'd like me to prove that. I've managed to become a valuable confidant. We share Marine stories."

  Bree smiled. "Are you making those up?"

  "I actually used one Jamie and Damon told me about from their Army days."

  "Always thinking on your feet."

  "It's what keeps me alive."

  "I heard about the sting you set up to get into Nova Star. Jim Abrams is pissed you broke his nose."

  He gave a faint smile. "Not intentional. I thought he was better at ducking."

  She smiled back at him. "I'm glad we're going to work together, even if it's from afar. One of these days, I want you to meet Nathan. He's very important to me."

  "I'd like to meet him sometime."

  "Before you go…" She jotted a number on the back of her card. "I know you're working through Flynn, but in case you ever need anything unofficially…I just got this number."

  "Thanks." As he put her card into his wallet, the conference room door opened.

  Joanna Davis walked into the room. Dressed in a slim black skirt and black blazer over a silky blouse, her short, straight blonde hair framing her face, she looked both sophisticated and professional. Joanna was in her early forties, a divorcee who had been at the bureau for fifteen years.

  He respected Joanna, but she was one of only a handful of people who could make him uncomfortable. She was too flirtatious and a bit of a man-eater, both on the job and in her personal life, and he preferred to spend as little time as possible with her.

  Fortunately, he worked for Flynn, not for Joanna, so while she might be Flynn's boss, they had little contact with each other, and that's the way he preferred it.

  "Wyatt, you look good," she said, her gaze raking his body. "I've been wondering when we'd run into each other. I didn’t think it would be here."

  "What happened with Detective Larimer?"

  "He's standing down. We're in charge now. I'll inform Mr. Tremaine of that fact as well."

  "That will simplify matters."

  "Well, I live to simplify things for you," she drawled, sarcasm in her tone. "I understand Mr. Tremaine is giving you more responsibility and access. Is that true?"

  "It is. He has even asked me to keep an eye on his sons' activities."

  "So, while he tells the FBI there's nothing to see where his sons are concerned, you're hearing a different song?"

  "Yes. Hamilton is an idealist, a dreamer, but he's also a smart man. While he doesn't want to believe anyone close to him would sell him out, he's not stupid. He may not want to work with the bureau, but he's determined to find out if someone in his company is a mole."

  "Good."

  "I need to go. I don't want to leave Avery alone in the lobby too long. She might try to talk to the cops and confuse things. Thanks again for the help here."

  "Once this is over, we'll catch up," Joanna said. "I'd like to hear about what else you've been doing the past several years."

  "Sounds good," he said, seeing a teasing light lurking in Bree's eyes. Bree and his other friends had been well aware of Joanna's interest in him at Quantico.

  After leaving the conference room, he found Avery pacing around the lobby, a worried look on her face.

  "Did you tell them what happened?" she asked immediately.

  "Yes. We can go." He put his hand against the small of her back and pushed her gently toward the door.

  "What do you mean?" she asked in surprise. "I don't need to answer any questions?"

  "Nope. We're good."

  "They don't want to talk to me?"

  "I told them everything we knew."

  "And that's it?"

  "That's it."

  She gave him a suspicious look as they left the station, but she kept walking until they got to his car. Then she stopped.

  "Okay, seriously, what's going on, Wyatt? Why did they want to speak to you alone? Why wasn't I questioned? I'm Noelle's friend."

  "And I run security for Nova Star, where Noelle was employed. I knew the information they needed to proceed, and I gave it to them."

  "And they didn't care that neither one of us was supposed to be in the apartment?"

  "I wouldn't say they didn't care, but we're not under suspicion." He opened the door for her, and she reluctantly got in.

  He walked around the car and slid behind the wheel. "I'll take you home now."

  "I still don't get it," she said a few moments later. "Something is off." She shot him a suspicious look. "I think you're lying to me, Wyatt."

  "What do you think I'm lying about? If the police wanted to talk to you, don't you think they would have called you in? I wasn't stopping anyone from doing that. You were sitting in the lobby."

  "You also weren't gone that long."

  "There wasn't a lot to say. I know you're on edge—"

  "On edge does not begin to describe how I feel. You may be looking into this on behalf of Nova Star, but Noelle was my friend. She meant something to me. This isn't just a case to me. She was an important person in my life."

  "I understand, which is why I told the police what we both knew so you wouldn't have to go through it again."

  "And Detective Larimer was really okay with that?"

  "It wasn't his choice. There was a special agent from the FBI there."

  "Wait a second—the FBI was there? Why?"

  "They didn't say; they just informed me that they're taking over the case."

  "But that doesn't make sense."

  He shrugged. "Like I said, they didn't feel it necessary to explain their actions to me. But the good news is that we have more people looking for answers and for justice for Noelle."

  "Well, that's true. I'm sure the FBI will have more resources than the local police."

  "Exactly. Now, you can go home and catch your breath, the way you wanted to."

  "I would like to do that," she admitted. "I need a minute or two to regroup. And then I have to start making calls."

  "Do you want to give me your address?" He actually already knew where she lived, but realized he was about to give that away.

  She started. "Oh, sorry. Yes. You're actually going in the right direction. I live in Hermosa Beach. 312 Taylor Avenue. It's right off the 405." She paused. "What do you think will happen next, Wyatt? Will the FBI be able to find the man in Noelle's apartment based on his tattoo? You did tell them about the tattoo, didn't you?"

  "Yes, and it will hopefully give them a good lead."

  "Do you think that man is the same person who killed Noelle?"

  "It's possible."

  She let out a breath. "I was thinking that, too. The FBI has to find him."

  "If anyone can, they can."

  Several minutes later, he pulled up in front of a three-story apartment building, grabbing a parking spot not too far from the front door. He scanned the area for anything out of the ordinary, but all looked peaceful and quiet. It was possible the man from Noelle's apartment did not know who Avery was, but he didn't want to underestimate anyone.

&nb
sp; "I'll walk you up," he said, as he turned off the engine.

  "That's not necessary."

  He ignored her comment, meeting her on the sidewalk. "After what happened at Noelle's, I'm not letting you go in alone. You're very important to my boss."

  "Why do you say that?" she asked curiously.

  "He speaks very highly of you, Avery. He loves your passion for space. He says you're one of the few people who really understands his vision. He also told me how you have helped him bring Nova Star to the masses with your educational outreach programs. He's quite impressed with you."

  Wyatt had to admit he was fairly impressed with the beautiful astrophysicist as well, which seemed crazy, because geeky science girls were not usually his type. But there was something about Avery… He refused to let himself finish that thought. Avery was part of his job. He couldn't forget that.

  "Well, I'm impressed with Hamilton, too," Avery said, as they entered her building and headed up the stairs. "He has never met a barrier he didn't want to break down, or a challenge he couldn't overcome, and I like that kind of bulldog tenacity. I also respect his brilliance and his big dreams. He's the kind of person who changes the world. It's inspiring to be around him."

  "How did you come to take the job with him?"

  "Hamilton came to a lecture I gave at UCLA three years ago. He waited around afterward to speak to me and insisted I have coffee with him. He wanted to tell me about his company and how he needed someone like me to share his passionate love of space with the outside world. I was intrigued. He basically offered me a blank check to do whatever I wanted to do. I couldn't turn that down, so, I said yes. I've never regretted it." She paused in front of her door. "This is me."

  "Let me go in first," he said, as she unlocked the door.

  She waved him inside, and he made a quick scan of the small living room and adjacent kitchen area and then headed down the short hall to check out the bedroom and bath. Avery dogged his every step, staying close behind him as he opened the last remaining closet door.

  Then she let out a heavy breath. "No one has been in here."

  "It doesn't look like it. Everything is very neat."

  "I don't like clutter. When I get stressed, I clean."

  "You must have cleaned this morning."

  "Actually, I didn't stay here last night. I went to my mom's house. But the last few weeks have been tense. With the upcoming satellite defense launch, there have been a lot more requests for educational information, which get siphoned through my department."

  He nodded, following her back into the living room.

  While everything was very organized, the apartment was still warm and interesting and smart, he thought with a smile, noting the shelves laden with hardcover science books, the photographs of space on the walls, the colorful blanket tossed over the back of the couch, and the extremely old telescope by the window.

  "Do you take this up on the roof?" he asked.

  "Occasionally, but I don't use that one very often. I got it when I was twelve. I have access to much better telescopes at work. Have you ever been out to Nova Star's test facility in the desert?"

  "Not yet."

  "The rooftop there affords some of the best viewing I've ever experienced. Are you interested in the stars?"

  "Not really. When I look up for too long, I tend to trip over reality."

  "That can happen. I've been accused of having my head in the clouds, but space also gives me perspective. When I get too caught up in my day, I look up, and I realize how very, very small my life and my problems are. Although, today, they seem rather huge. Do you want something to drink?"

  "I'd love some water," he said, happy that she wasn't eager to kick him out. He wasn't ready to walk away yet—for multiple reasons, some that went beyond Noelle's murder.

  Avery took out two glasses, popped in some ice, and then filled them with water from a filtered spout on the outside of her refrigerator.

  He took a seat at her small kitchen table, noting the organized pile of bills next to her checkbook. "I bet you actually balance this thing," he said, as she handed him a glass.

  She made a face at him. "I used to. I've gotten busy, and so much is direct deposit and online bill pay now but keeping track of my finances was a lesson my mother taught me early on. Money was tight when I was growing up. Before my father became a celebrity writer, he was fairly unsuccessful, and we were living off my mom's teacher's salary. My mother always had to make sure that we had our bills covered while my dad chased his big dreams."

  He heard the note of bitterness in her voice. "It seems like your father succeeded in achieving some of those dreams. From what I understand, he's quite famous now."

  "Yes, because he created a male self-help bestseller called Meat, Sex, Sports—A Man's Guide to Happiness."

  "That's all it takes, huh?"

  "Men are apparently fairly simple creatures," she said dryly.

  "And that book sold well?"

  "Over five million copies. It also spawned a series of webinars and motivational talks, first for men, then spreading into the general public how to find happiness, peace, and success. My father has since written three other books on variations of that theme." She took a sip of her water. "I'm happy that he found the success he wanted; I'm just not that impressed with his work. I'm an academic. I like substance, and my dad is all style and talk and not a lot else. He changes with the wind. You never really know who you're going to get when he shows up." She sighed. "I don't know why we're talking about him."

  "How do you feel about your father's relationship with Whitney?"

  "I hate it, but I can't do anything about it."

  "Did you introduce them?"

  "Yes, of course. He came to have lunch with me, and the next thing I know, we're up in the executive suite. Now he has become entrenched with the Tremaines. He bought a big house in Calabasas, and Whitney moved in with him. I'm really afraid he's going to mess things up for me. I know that sounds selfish, but I like my job, and I care a lot about the Tremaines. As Hamilton told you, he and I are kindred spirits when it comes to our interest in space."

  "What do you think about the upcoming launch on Tuesday? Is the satellite ready to defend itself? Or is Hamilton rushing under the pressure of his rivals?"

  "I honestly don't know. He could be pushing too hard. But that's understandable since there are several companies hot on our heels. Do you have any idea how much activity on Earth is controlled and aided by satellites?"

  "I've been getting a crash course on that subject the past month," he said. "Hamilton likes to talk."

  "That he does—to anyone who will listen. Space is the new frontier; it's the next battleground, Wyatt. Being able to defend our satellites is going to be hugely important. And being able to take down other weaponized satellites, missiles, rockets, etc., without creating space debris will also be a significant advancement." She smiled. "But the general public is not as interested in the satellite as they are in the idea of Hamilton getting in the Star Gazer rocket ship one day and making a trip to Mars with some of his best friends. That's the story that captures the imagination."

  "He tells me that could happen within the next five years. Do you agree?"

  "We're getting closer to the possibility of interplanetary travel. But five years is overly optimistic. I'd say fifteen is a better guess, but who knows?"

  "Would you go to Mars?" he asked curiously.

  "Get in a rocket and soar into the universe? I wish I could say yes," she said with a yearning sigh. "I would love to be part of that, but I don't have the guts."

  "Not even to see what you've spent your whole life learning about?"

  "Big old coward," she admitted. "I wish I wasn't. I wish I was brave."

  "You were brave this morning."

  "No, that's not true. I froze. I didn't even try to help you when you were fighting with that man. I could have gone for the gun. I just stood there—paralyzed. I was lucky he didn't go after me when he hit you
with that drawer."

  "I should have seen that coming," he said with a frown. "But don't sell yourself short. You stood up to danger, and you've held it together since then."

  "Barely, but I probably shouldn't admit that. I have a feeling an adrenaline crash is coming my way soon. You might want to get ready for that."

  He smiled at her endearing self-deprecation. "I will buckle up."

  "I just want answers, Wyatt. I want to know why Noelle is dead. I want to make sure someone pays for killing her. And while I understand why Hamilton wants to protect the company, Nova Star's work is not more important than Noelle's life. I hope you're really trying to get to the truth and not cover it up."

  "That is what I'm trying to do," he reassured her.

  She didn't look entirely convinced. "But your loyalty is to Hamilton."

  "Not at the expense of someone's life." He paused, thinking that he needed to give her a bit more information in order to get her to trust him. "I'll let you in on a little secret; Hamilton doesn't just want to protect his company, he's also worried about his son, Jonathan."

  "Jonathan?" she echoed. "What does he have to do with any of this?"

  "Jonathan had a drink with Noelle three nights ago at Steamers, a bar in the Pelican Point Hotel in Palos Verdes."

  "What?" she asked in surprise. "How do you know that?"

  "I saw them."

  "You saw them together—just by chance?"

  He ignored that question, going for one of his own. "Do you think Noelle and Jonathan could have been having an affair?"

  "Jonathan is married, and Noelle has a boyfriend. I didn't think they even knew each other. Are you sure it was her?"

  "I am sure. It doesn't seem like they would have business to discuss since they don't work together."

  "No, they don't." She gave him an unhappy look. "What happened after this drink? Did they stay at the hotel?"

  "They left in separate cars."

  "And you saw that, too? Were you following Noelle? Or Jonathan?"

  "That's not a question I can answer."

  "Why not?"

  "Because it involves other issues at Nova Star I'm not cleared to speak about."

  "If those issues have to do with Noelle's death—"

  "I don't know that they do," he said quickly.