by Karen Rose
Molina was quiet a beat longer than necessary. “Agent Raeburn said that the family received a gift from an anonymous benefactor a few days later, through their parish priest.”
Tom didn’t blink. That the money had come from his own bank account was a fact he was not prepared to admit. “I hadn’t heard that,” he said mildly. And he hadn’t actually heard it, so technically he wasn’t lying.
“Raeburn said the amount was enough for them to live on for several months, plus a bit more than their funeral expenses.”
He could feel his skin itching, like Molina could see his every secret. But still he didn’t blink. He knew he couldn’t replace every victim’s losses, but he could help that family. So he had. It hadn’t made a dent in his bank account, flush after his three years in the NBA. Being able to help people like that was one of the best things his time as a professional basketball player had done for him. He’d never planned to make the NBA a career, always knowing he’d join the Bureau, but he’d been young and better than decent on the court. It had seemed a shame to waste the talent he’d been given—or his earnings. He’d donated a fair bit and saved the rest.
He was grateful for those years, even if after his fiancée’s death he hadn’t had the heart for it anymore and had retired early. Now he kept his tone bland. “That was a nice thing for someone to do.”
Molina rolled her eyes, but her tone was almost sweet. “Don’t make it a habit, Tom.”
He blinked, unprepared for her use of his first name. “Make what a habit?”
She shook her head. “You know, when I was told I was getting a hacker rookie, straight out of the Academy, I was not happy. When I found out you were a former pro athlete, I was unhappier still. I didn’t have the time to train an agent wet behind the ears. Or one with an ego the size of Texas.”
Tom frowned. “I have an ego the size of Texas?”
“No. I assumed that you would, but I was pleasantly surprised on that score.” One side of her mouth lifted. “I’m glad you’re here. If only so I can toughen up that soft heart of yours so you make it to retirement. I’m not kidding, Agent Hunter.”
Tom bit back his own smile. “So noted, ma’am.” His watch buzzed, reminding him of the time. “Morning meeting,” he said. “You coming?”
She scowled at him. “I called the meeting.”
He grinned. He couldn’t help it. If she was taking over morning briefings, it meant that Agent Raeburn was history. Which meant his own life would be a lot less stressful going forward. “You’re back, all the way?”
“Most of the way,” she said cryptically. “But Raeburn is still your direct supervisor.”
Fuck. Tom’s grin disappeared, his expression becoming grim.
She gave him a careful once-over. “Agent Raeburn reported that you’ve been feeding information about this case to Agent Reynolds and his sister. That stops now. Are we clear?”
Tom considered his words. Of course he’d been feeding information to Gideon and Mercy. Gideon had been recused from the case because of his personal involvement, but that shouldn’t mean he got cut off from updates.
“They have a right to know the facts, Agent Molina. It’s their lives Belmont is targeting. Agent Raeburn has been keeping them in the dark.” Which wasn’t only unfair, it was cruel and dangerous. Raeburn was taking criminal chances with the lives of Tom’s friends—and everyone they loved, because anyone around them was also in danger.
“We’ve provided Mercy Callahan protection,” Molina snapped. This wasn’t playful banter. She was reining him in, and he didn’t like it. At all. “Agent Reynolds can take care of himself. If you can’t agree, perhaps the Bureau isn’t a good fit for you after all.”
There it was, then. The choice.
He could hear his aunt Dana’s voice in his mind. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, Tom. And then his mother. Do the right thing, even when it’s the hard thing.
He gave a curt nod, knowing he’d continue doing what needed to be done. “I understand.”
“I have your word?” Molina asked, her jaw taut.
He was tempted to cross his fingers behind his back, but that was childish. “I will not feed Gideon and Mercy information in the future. You have my word.”
Molina narrowed her eyes at him. “Why don’t I believe you?”
He managed a thin smile. “I gave you my word. Ma’am.”
There were, of course, so many other ways to get vital information to them. If it was a matter of life and death, if Gideon and Mercy’s safety was on the line, he’d find another way.
“All right, then.” She gave him a sideways glance, sharp as a knife. “What else do you know, Agent Hunter? I take it that you’ve checked out all of the former Eden sites.”
“Of course. The notebook we found in Ephraim’s safe-deposit box had a very accurate map. None of the locations are currently occupied, though it was still valuable to find that map. We learned that their earlier locations are obvious from the sky, but the more recent ones are not. They’ve effectively utilized ground cover, building earth homes. We thought we might locate them through infrared, checking for heat signatures, but so far that’s been a bust.”
Ephraim Burton had left a veritable Eden playbook in his safe-deposit box, with detailed descriptions of all of the Founding Elders’ sins, meticulous records of the cash stored in the offshore accounts, and the map of previous Eden locations. Tom assumed that it was some kind of dead man’s switch, that if he was killed mysteriously, the contents of his box would somehow be made public. And indeed, it had ended up in the hands of the FBI.
“You found the most recent location?”
“Yes, ma’am. But there wasn’t anything there. Nothing living, anyway. We found evidence of animals—a lot of very fresh shit in a variety of sizes. It was still fresh, maybe a few days old. We also found a lot of animal blood. It appears they slaughtered at least some of their farm animals. Maybe they couldn’t take them all. We didn’t miss them by much.”
“Did you tell Miss Callahan and Agent Reynolds that you have a list of the old sites?”
“I told them we’d found the very first Eden, but not the other sites. That would have made them want to explore each one, and I didn’t want them to be seen there in case Pastor and DJ returned for some reason.”
“Why did you tell them about the first site?”
It had been an impulse decision, but he didn’t regret it. “I thought visiting it might provide them some closure.” He’d had personal experience with closure. “The site was cleared of trees and easily spotted by satellite surveillance. I didn’t think Pastor would bring Eden back there.”
“Did they go for closure?”
“Not to my knowledge, ma’am.”
“Anything else?”
“Not really. Mostly I’ve checked off potential suspects. What I know is right here.” He pointed to the bulletin board next to his desk, on which he’d attached photos and maps and documents relating to his Eden search. He had an identical one in the office at his house. “I tracked down DJ Belmont’s surviving family on the off chance he’d hide with them. His uncle Merle Belmont lives about an hour from here in Benicia. He and his wife filed the missing-person report when DJ and his mother went missing when he was four years old. They claim that they haven’t seen him, though, and thought that he’d been dead all these years.”
“You believed them?”
“I did, but you’re welcome to interview them yourself.”
“I might. What else?”
Tom wasn’t offended. He was new. He expected others to check his work, especially on a case as important as this one. “I’ve interviewed a number of people who knew Pastor when he was the minister at the church in L.A. The one he embezzled from and defrauded.” The one he’d fled to hide in Eden to escape a criminal investigation. “Those people told us what we al
ready knew—Pastor was a sociopath who could charm the bark from a tree. We have the rifle that Belmont used last month. We’ve pulled prints, but they don’t match anything in the system. Other than that, we haven’t had any new leads. Raeburn’s had me working on a few other projects until we do.”
Which was a waste of valuable time. But if they had no leads . . . Tom knew all they could do was wait for a break, but he hated it.
Molina examined the board. “What is the significance of the key?”
Tom glanced at the photo of a key bearing the GM logo. “It was in Ephraim’s pocket when he was killed. It’s old and didn’t belong to any of the vehicles that Ephraim stole last month.” Of which there’d been quite a few. “That’s all I know.”
“All right, then.” She rose abruptly. “Let’s go to my morning meeting.”
Exiting his office, they walked in silence until she said, “How is Miss Barkley?”
Surprised, Tom almost stumbled. He smoothed his gait and his voice. “She’s doing well.”
Liza Barkley was indeed doing well. Deep irritation blossomed within him at just how well his best friend was doing. The memory of her arriving home way too late the night before grated. She’d been holding the hand of the ass who’d believed that paying for her dinner entitled him to a whole lot more.
She’d called him Mike. Mike had been too familiar, too handsy. It had taken nearly all of Tom’s self-control not to throttle him when he’d groped Liza’s butt like she was some kind of . . .
He had to take a deep breath, conscious of Molina watching him.
Liza hadn’t objected, though, so he’d remained silent. At least Mike hadn’t stayed long enough to do anything more than groping. Because, yes, Tom had stood at the window watching until the man drove away.
“I’m glad,” Molina said. “I enjoyed her visits.”
Tom stared down at his boss, and she had to crane her neck to look up. In heels, Liza could look him in the eye comfortably.
And he wasn’t sure why he thought about that now. “Liza Barkley? My Liza Barkley?”
Except she wasn’t his. She was Mike’s.
Molina looked amused. “Tall? Long auburn hair that she wears in a Heidi braid? About five-ten, but likes heels? Always smiling? She’s your Liza Barkley, is she not?”
Yes, she always smiled. Yes, she wore her hair up in a braid, a habit she’d picked up during her years in the army. He preferred her hair down, but his preferences didn’t count. Because she wasn’t his. “Liza visited you?”
“Both in the hospital and after I went home. She brought me crime thrillers and lasagna and homemade caramel brownies. She even did my laundry a few times. I appreciated her kindness.”
“I didn’t know,” Tom murmured. Because Liza hadn’t mentioned it. His best friend hadn’t mentioned a lot of things lately. She’d been steadily pulling away from him for the last month and he didn’t like it one bit.
Molina frowned. “I figured you’d asked her to come.”
“No. I didn’t.” He recovered his composure and cleared his expression, because they were nearly at the meeting room. “She’s good at caregiving. She’s going to make an amazing nurse.”
“She told me that she’s starting nursing school in July. UC Davis is one of the best nursing schools in the country.”
“Yes, it is.” He’d been stunned when he’d learned that she was headed to Sacramento. She’d told him about her acceptance to UC Davis at his parents’ house over Christmas dinner six months ago, having just arrived back from Afghanistan. He’d been working up the nerve to tell his mother that he’d been posted to the Sacramento field office, knowing she’d be disappointed. His mother had been so hopeful that he’d get assigned to Chicago so they could live in the same city again. That Liza would be joining him in Sacramento had taken some of the sting out of the announcement.
He’d been happy. As happy as he’d been able to get, anyway. He’d still been numb with grief over Tory, and seeing Liza had . . . he wasn’t sure, but it had been like a kick in the gut. He’d been so glad to see her, but sad at the same time. She’d known that he’d fallen in love with Tory. She’d known that Tory was pregnant. But he hadn’t told her that Tory had died, and she’d been so shocked. She’d tried to hide it, but he’d been able to tell.
The past five months of having her just next door in the duplex he’d bought had been . . . nice. More than nice. Her very presence had helped him heal.
Molina cleared her throat, yanking him back. “You must be very proud of her.”
“I am,” he said fervently. “So damn proud.”
Liza had overcome so much to get where she was in life. It was too bad she was too proud to accept his help when he offered it.
He wondered if she allowed the butt-groping Mike to help her.
Molina paused in the doorway, giving him a calculated look. “I think that might come as a surprise to her.” And then she entered the meeting room, leaving him gaping at her.
Why would Liza be surprised to learn that he was proud of her? They’d been best friends for seven freaking years. She had to know.
“Agent Hunter.” Raeburn’s voice cut into his thoughts. “Are you planning to join us or not?”
Tom jerked to attention, realizing too late that he’d been standing in the doorway while the others took their seats. Seven of Raeburn’s agents, most of whom worked on cases other than Eden, watched him curiously, and he had to fight to keep his cheeks from heating.
Gideon Reynolds wasn’t in attendance, which meant Eden would be on the agenda. Gideon had been his trainer for the last few months, but Raeburn had assigned him to someone new after Gideon had been recused from the investigation.
His new trainer was Ricki Croft. She was in her late thirties and could be abrupt, especially before she’d had her morning coffee. She was a good agent, though, her career on a trajectory to make Special Agent in Charge one day. She was more by-the-book than Gideon had been, but far less than Raeburn, so Tom liked her well enough. She eyed him now, travel mug clutched in her hands, one brow lifted. She indicated the empty chair to her left, which Tom took, still feeling off balance.
Raeburn welcomed Molina back, then ceded the meeting to her. She allowed each agent to give an update on their cases, and Tom found his attention wandering for the first time during a briefing of any kind. He was known for his laser focus and his ability to remember nearly everything he heard, even the assignments that had nothing to do with Eden.
But his thoughts were on Liza now, on Molina’s startling disclosure. He needed to talk to Liza, as soon as possible. He needed to mend this rift between them. He needed to make sure she knew he was proud of her. She needed to know what she meant to him.
She wasn’t his oldest friend, but she was the one whom he trusted above all others. Liza knew his deepest secrets. For a long time, she’d been the only person in his life who’d known about Tory, about what she’d meant to him. About the life Tory had carried.
She understood what he’d lost.
His attention was brought back to the room by the buzzing of the cell phone in his pocket. It was his work phone—not the burner he never left home without—so he peeked at the text.
It was from Jeff Bunker, a sixteen-year-old budding journalist who, despite authoring a trash piece on Mercy Callahan that had hurt her deeply, had since made amends. Now Tom considered the kid a friend and ally.
Call me. Please. It’s important.
Tom glanced up to see Croft frowning at him. He winced and slid his phone back in his pocket.
Only to have it buzz again.
Again, he peeked. Again it was from Jeff. PLS CALL ME! About Eden. CRITICAL.
Jeff knew the buttons to push. He knew that anything “Eden” would bring Tom running. Wincing again, he pushed his chair back, grateful it didn’t squeak.
Raeburn s
till whipped around to glare at him. “You are not dismissed, Agent Hunter.”
Tom held up his phone. “An informant. It’s about Eden.”
Molina held up her hand, silencing the retort poised on Raeburn’s lips. “Hurry back.”
Tom nodded and left the room, dialing Jeff Bunker as soon as his ass cleared the doorway. “What is it?” he asked when Jeff answered.
“I put an alert on any news articles about Eden,” Jeff said. “Last night I got a hit from an article by a guy named Cameron Cook. His pregnant girlfriend disappeared two months ago. He got an e-mail from her, saying she’d been taken to Eden and she needed him to bring the cops to spring her. He said she sounded scared. She’s due in two weeks.”
Tom sucked in a breath, both excited and dismayed. Eden’s conditions were primitive at best. Many women died in childbirth. “How did she get an e-mail out?”
“He doesn’t know. He told the police and they went to the coordinates in the e-mail but the place was just forest.”
Tom stood straighter. “She sent him coordinates?”
“Yes, but they were bogus. The cops got mad at him, threatened to have him arrested if he kept bugging them, because he kept calling. He finally went to the newspaper. He’s desperate. He’s been searching the area around the coordinates for weeks all by himself.”
“Where is he?” Tom asked, his pulse ratcheting up. This could be the break they’d been hoping for.
“With me, in the lobby of your building. I drove to San Francisco to get him. I figured you’d want him to stop talking to the newspaper.”
A grin pulled at his mouth, so wide it hurt his cheeks. “You thought right. I’ll be down to get you both as soon as I can.” He started back for the meeting room. “Don’t let him leave.”
Jeff whooshed out a relieved breath. “Thank God you believe me. I told him that he could trust you.”