And then he collapsed onto the straw-covered barn floor.
I covered my mouth to smother a sob.
“We have to stop him,” Ty said, as if he was just discovering the depth of Romeo’s evilness.
“What did Romeo mean by that?” I asked again. Romeo’s words made no sense to me, but the look on Mike’s face had been one of recognition. “What had Teddy and Mike ‘worked out’?”
“I have no idea,” Ty said.
“Maybe the answer is in that box.” I nodded toward the box on the sofa.
“What’s in it?”
“Case files Mike was keeping at home. Marie said it includes stuff about Romeo, about Teddy, and about the case we were all working when Teddy was killed.”
“Marie gave you all that?”
“Yeah. She and Carlos.”
“Carlos? Why would they give you the files and not turn them over to the FBI?”
“Not sure yet. But we’re going to find out.”
“Okay. What do you want me to do?”
“First, I want you to stay on top of the fusion center shooting. Keep asking questions. Connect the dots between the shooter and our staff. We need to make sure the FBI and local law enforcement don’t suspect this was anything but a lone shooter. I want to be damn sure someone else isn’t coming to continue the job. Meanwhile, I’m going to start sorting through that box. You up for working late tonight?”
“Late night dinner over case files? Just like old times.”
“True. Pick up some wine at lunch.” I tried to smile, but there was just no joy in the situation.
“Okay. I’ll check in with you later.” Ty left, closing the door behind him.
I opened the box. Inside, on top of the contents, was an envelope with my name written in a pretty script. I picked it up and opened it. It held a handwritten note from Marie Donaldson.
Brooke:
If you’re reading this, I was able to slip in a note without Carlos knowing. I needed you to know that not everyone inside the FBI can be trusted. Mike thought he could still trust his partner, but he wasn’t sure. Whatever he was getting close to in the past week was stressing him to the point that he was considering leaving the Bureau and moving us away from Washington. I hope the contents of this box help you find who killed him. If I discover anything more beyond this, I will pass it along to you and not the FBI. I don’t know who to trust there.
Marie
I spent several hours poring over Mike’s handwritten notes. Many of them were about the CIA Weapons of Mass Destruction Task Force, which had been investigating the same ring of terrorists that Teddy, Mike, and I had been tracking before Teddy’s murder. The notes served as a refresher for a case I hadn’t thought much about in over a year. Our investigation had connected a cell of terrorists, now living in the United States, to car bombings and vehicle-ramming attacks on heavily populated streets in several European cities. Our biggest concern had been the number of terrorists in the organization who were willing to die in the service of their mission.
As I was reviewing Mike’s notes, I thought about the very moment at the Academy when I realized that the most dangerous criminal was the one who didn’t care if he—or she—lived or died. If a criminal was willing to die for his cause—he was willing to crash airplanes, detonate a bomb before anyone could stop him, or simply walk into a crowded market, concert, or church and start shooting, not caring that authorities would eventually gun him down—he was the most terrifying sort of evil. When a terrorist was willing to die for his cause, he was very difficult to stop.
But the other aspect of that case that I had pushed to the back of my mind was the number of suspects who had turned up dead during that time—people who hadn’t fit our profiles but who could be placed at the scenes of many terrorist events. And the only thing that had connected these people was a particular drug in their system—a drug that had gotten me interested in the subject of bioterrorism, and later led me to Kentucky to investigate the death of Kentucky’s lieutenant governor.
I sorted through the less organized contents of the box: random slips of paper, handwritten notes on napkins, cryptic Post-its, even some notes I’d written myself and had sent Mike. I found a document about one of the men on Anya’s list, the one who’d died of carbon monoxide poisoning. Mike had written the word “Accident?” and then circled it several times.
“What are you telling me?” I asked no one. Though I was thankful Mike had left the box of evidence behind, and that Marie had passed it on to me. I was sure my father didn’t know about any of this, or I would never have made it out of DC with it. I was still a little surprised that Carlos had handed it over so easily. Unless, maybe, he also thought there was someone inside the Bureau who couldn’t be trusted.
Most agents were known to hang on to some of their notes in cases like these—cases where there was evidence pointing to something nefarious, but not enough evidence to know what. And these cases were personal. Teddy’s death had been personal to Mike, and obviously still was to me. And Romeo had become personal to us as well; we both knew he was around during the case that got Teddy killed. We even suspected he knew what happened the night Teddy died.
No, we didn’t suspect it. We knew it.
I certainly suspected one thing as I sat in the middle of my office floor with papers strewn all around me in semi-organized piles: Mike was killed because he was getting too close. There was something Romeo didn’t want him to learn.
And if that was the case, I could only hope that this box of evidence would take me in the same direction.
Chapter 20
Brooke
My heels clicked along the tile floor of the hospital hallway. I knocked lightly on Jude’s hospital room door, then pushed my way in. Sam was there, sleeping in a chair, a blanket draped over her, but Jude was awake.
He lifted a hand and gave me a wave. “I’ve been trying to get her to go home, but she won’t. I tried telling her I’m fine.”
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yes. The doctors said they repaired the damage, and that I’m going to be just fine.” Jude tried to push the rolling tray out of the way to make room for me to stand next to him, but he struggled.
“Let me.” I moved the tray for him, but kept it within his reach. “What happened?”
“That chick just flipped,” he said. “I didn’t know her. She was new to our part of the building, but Sam talked to some other women in the building who said she was the nicest lady. Everyone keeps saying that they know it sounds cliché, but that she’s quiet, keeps to herself. That she would never harm a fly or a mouse, or whatever it is they say.”
“And she just… cracked?”
“Either that or she was doped up, under some sort of spell.”
“Some sort of spell?” I asked.
“Yeah. One of Sam’s friends, who has worked for the transportation cabinet for years and is nearing full retirement, if the legislature doesn’t fuck it all up… oh, sorry.” Apparently, Jude thought I would be offended by his language. “Anyway, Sam’s friend said that Debbie Farrell was also nearing retirement, loves her children, and was just… I don’t know… kind. Said the two of them got together from time to time just to talk about the changes that might happen to the retirement system.”
“Doesn’t sound like the actions of someone unhinged enough to go on a workplace shooting rampage.”
“Exactly.”
“And why would she end up in the fusion center? If she was angry at her co-workers, why not go straight upstairs instead of targeting the fusion center first?”
“That’s a good question,” Jude said.
I had pretty much handed this case over to Erica Marshall, but now I was thinking it might not hurt if I found Ms. Farrell’s hospital room, and see what I could find out.
“Well, listen,” I said. “Don’t worry about anything at work. Just get better. We’ll take care of Sam too, though she might need to show her face for work from time to
time just to keep personnel from asking too many questions.”
“She needs to go home and get some sleep and a shower.”
“Are you talking about me?” Sam asked behind us. “Oh,” she said with a hint of embarrassment. “Hi, Brooke. I didn’t know you were back in town.” She stood.
“Don’t get up. I just came by to check on you two.”
“I was… just stopping by to—”
I held up a hand. “Sam, it’s okay. You and Jude are completely professional at work. You don’t need to pretend around me.” I smiled, then turned back to Jude. “Besides, I wrote the book on trying to pretend a relationship wasn’t significant. It’s not worth the energy it takes to fight it.”
Sam looked down at her hands, then as if deciding I had a point, walked over to Jude. “How are you feeling? You get any sleep?”
“I sure did. And they’ve got a James Bond marathon running.” Jude grabbed Sam’s hand and pulled her closer. She fell into him, causing him to grunt, but he didn’t seem to care. With an arm that had an IV coming out of it, he gripped the back of her neck, pulled her face to his, and gave her a giant kiss. “Everyone knows, and no one cares, that we’re dating.”
Sam looked at me. I nodded, then smiled. “It’s true. On both accounts.”
Sam straightened. “Fine. I get it. I just thought… Anyway, if you’re feeling okay, I think I’m going to go get a shower.”
“I’m fine,” Jude insisted.
“It’s just that the woman who shot you is in this hospital.”
I lifted both brows. “How do you know that?”
Sam mirrored my look. “Seriously? I know I’m not your lead analyst, but I am a damn good computer hack. It wasn’t difficult to figure out where the FBI hid ‘D. Jarrell.’”
“Seriously, they changed her name by only one letter?” I said, dumbfounded.
“’Fraid so.”
“Do you know which room she’s in?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. Would you like me to show you how to get there?”
“I would.” I looked at Jude. “We are all so glad you’re okay. You let me know if you need anything?”
He nodded.
Sam leaned over and kissed Jude on the lips. “I’ll be back later. If the doctor is letting you eat real food, I can pick something up.”
It was nice to see them stop hiding their relationship from me. It was tough to watch office romances flare and fizzle out, but just seeing these two, I had a feeling they’d figure it out. I remembered when Sam didn’t want anything to do with Jude. She had been through a lot when the Russian Bratva, who had taken down Louisville’s electric grid, kidnapped her and assaulted her. It was nice to see that she had recovered and found a way to open her heart again.
I walked into the hall, giving them a moment of privacy. Sam joined me a moment later.
“Look,” she said. “I didn’t want to say more in front of Jude, because I don’t want him thinking about the shooting any more than he has to while he’s healing, but I overheard something very strange about Deborah Farrell. And since I’m sure you’re planning to investigate this, I wanted you to know.”
I started to correct her and let her know that I wasn’t actually investigating the shooting, but I knew I would be involved enough, so I just let it go. “What was it, and who did you overhear?”
“I was on the sixth floor—that’s where they’re keeping Deborah—and a couple of local policemen were stationed outside her door. I was just… taking a walk. I was curious how well guarded she was.” She shrugged.
“Human nature,” I offered.
“Anyway, two additional cops arrived to relieve the two there, and they talked for several minutes. That’s when I heard one of them say, ‘She’s claiming someone told her to do it.’ I tried to eavesdrop more, but I never heard a name or anything. I wondered if it was one of those cases where someone claims that God told her to do it.”
I thought about what Sam was saying. There were definitely some crazy people in the world.
“I just don’t understand how someone gets to the point of thinking that God would order them to do something so hate-filled.”
“Mental illness makes people do crazy things,” I said. “Did you get the impression that the police believe she had help?”
“That wasn’t what it sounded like, but that does make a lot more sense.” Sam’s eyes widened. “You think there might be another shooter out there planning to finish whatever it was they were trying to do? You think another shooter will—”
I touched her hand. “No. If they do suspect she had help, they’re already on it. And either way, the authorities are on alert now. I’ll make sure of it, okay?”
“You’re right. Okay. Thank you for stopping by.”
“You said Farrell is on the sixth floor?” I said.
“Oh yeah. I’ll take you.”
“No, that’s okay, I can go up there on my own. You get out of here and get a shower and some rest.”
“I’ll get a shower, but then I’m coming straight back. I like being here. His family is on the West Coast, and he told them not to come, that he was fine. I don’t want him to be alone.” She glanced toward the door, then turned her worried eyes back to me. “He’s acting really brave, but he had nightmares in his sleep last night. That shooting scared him. Hell, it scared me.”
“Of course it did,” I said. “You still seeing your therapist?”
“Yeah. Not as often. But I try to check in with her every three or four weeks.”
“Go see her. It wouldn’t hurt to talk this out. And encourage Jude to do the same.”
“I will. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Now go get some rest.”
She waved and walked in the direction of the elevator. She picked up her pace when she saw a man getting on. “Hold the elevator,” she called, then started jogging.
The man stuck out a hand to stop the doors from closing. Sam climbed in. As the elevator doors were closing, the man turned, and I locked eyes with him.
Romeo.
I ran toward the elevator, but there was no way to get to it before the doors closed. I pounded on the counter at the nurses’ station. “Stairs! Where are the stairs?”
One of the ladies drew back with wide eyes, and I swore she was about to wave a finger at me. Thankfully, another nurse answered. “To the right of the elevator, just around the corner.”
As I ran, I pulled my phone from my pocket and called Dimitri. He had been staying close to me all day—part of the agreement I had struck with Declan. If I left the security of my office, Ty or Dimitri went with me. And since Ty had his own work to attend to, I had the happy pleasure of having Dimitri follow me—at a distance. I left him on the first floor, thinking I was only going to visit Jude for a few minutes.
Dimitri answered on the first ring. “He’s here,” I said, breathless. “Romeo’s in the hospital. He’s in the elevator with one of my analysts—Samantha Clay.”
“The girl kidnapped by the Russian mob? That Samantha?”
“Yes. She should be coming off the elevator on the first floor. Same elevator I came up in. I’m coming down the steps now.” I was going down the steps too fast, whipping around the corners at each landing.
“Calm down. I see her. An elderly man is getting off the elevator with her.”
“An elderly man. Not Romeo? He was wearing a red baseball cap.”
When I got to the third floor, Romeo stepped into the stairwell ahead of me, and I nearly ran into him. I dropped my phone and reached for my gun, but he was on me as quick as a viper. He wrapped one hand around my back, pulling me close against his chest, and placed his other hand firmly over my mouth.
“Shh. Don’t scream,” he said. His eyes were a dark gray, and they moved back and forth rapidly, staring into mine. “You left Washington. Why?”
His question seemed like a test—like there was a right and wrong answer. But he didn’t remove his hand from my mouth, making it imp
ossible for me to answer.
“No! Don’t tell me. Let me guess. You decided to let that pathetic excuse for an FBI agent, Carlos Salazar, take over the investigation into who I am.” He smiled.
I struggled, but he only held me tighter. He was strong; I couldn’t knee him or get out of his hold.
“I bet you looked beautiful in that wedding dress I chose for you. Those other two were godawful. I had no choice but to destroy them. But I can’t help but wonder who picked out the two replacement dresses. Declan?”
I relaxed in his hold, hoping to make him think I’d given up the struggle, so he’d loosen his grip. This, after all, had been what I’d wanted. By wearing the dress he’d chosen, I had wanted to please him. To draw him to me. He wasn’t fooled, though. I shook my head, letting him know that Declan had not been the one to pick out the dresses.
“Good. He doesn’t know you. He thinks he does, but he doesn’t. Not like I do. And he never will. I hope you kept the dress I picked.”
Declan knew me better than anyone. He knew I wouldn’t have chosen any of those dresses.
“Also, I’m glad you decided to wait until June. That gives us plenty of time to get to know each other. Because let’s face it: it will be you and I who are married, not you and that Irish twat.”
A door swung open below us, banging loudly. Dimitri was coming.
“We’ll talk again soon, my love.” Romeo leaned in and kissed my forehead, then shoved me to the side and took the stairs to the next floor two at a time.
By the time I had recovered, turned, and drew my gun, it was a bad shot, and I couldn’t take the chance that my gunfire might penetrate the walls.
Dimitri raced up the stairs. When he saw the look on my face, I thought he was going to punch a fist into the wall. “He’s had a go at you.” He framed my face, then smoothed my hair. “You okay?”
“It’s fine. I’m fine. And you know as well as I do that there’s no point pursuing him. He’s already changed his disguise and is long gone.” I shrugged away from him, turned, and stomped down the stairs. “Let’s get out of here. I need to get back to the office.”
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