by Mary Stone
“What did they find?” There was an unmistakable waver in his voice.
“I don’t know.” Each word Winter spoke was laden with venom. “He’s dead.”
Eric’s eyes snapped open wide. “What? Dead? How?”
“We aren’t sure,” she lied. “But we think that he was close to something that the Russians didn’t want him to know. Mr. Dalton, if you’ve got anything you’re hiding from us, you might want to reconsider.”
He scratched at the beard, which had started looking remarkably scraggly. “No, I—”
She waved away his protest. “Save it. You haven’t exactly been upfront with us since you showed up on our doorstep a few days ago, you know that? First, it was the bullshit about your life insurance, and now this whole thing about how you were going to start laundering money for the Russian mob.”
“It’s—”
“Like I said.” Winter narrowed her eyes. “I don’t care. Save your defensive horse shit for someone who does. I’m just here to tell you that, whatever was involved with this situation to begin with, whatever stakes you thought you were facing, they’ve just gotten a hell of a lot higher. A federal agent is dead. A woman lost her husband, and a child lost her father.”
When she paused this time, he didn’t bother to try to interject.
“If you’re hiding something, I want you to keep that in mind. Because when we find out whatever it is you’re hiding, and we will find out, I will personally bury you underneath any and every criminal charge I can even conceive of. If I can petition the governor to come up with a new law just to make sure you’re fucked for the rest of your life, I’ll do it. I don’t expect anything from you right now, but this is your last warning.”
Without bothering to wait for a reply, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the room.
Winter had never met Drew Hansford, but the haunted look on Bree’s face was unlike any expression she’d seen the woman wear in all the time she’d known her.
And then, there was Noah.
Ever since Eric’s arrival, a black cloud had followed Noah around to block out the brightness to which she’d grown accustomed.
In the midst of her own mental turmoil over the realization that Douglas Kilroy—the driving force behind her entire damn career, her entire life—was gone, she had to be the strong one.
Compared to the loss of a good friend or the reappearance of a ghost from the past, she didn’t think her problems were even worthy of mention on most days.
So, she did what she’d always done.
She shoved the festering despondency to the back of her mind where she could ignore it, and she masked any semblance of sadness with anger.
She could hardly imagine the lecture she’d receive from Autumn if she gave voice to her thoughts in the woman’s—a freaking psychologist’s—presence.
If Winter shook Autumn’s hand right now, there was a real possibility that the other woman would suplex her into the damn floor. They had both watched professional wrestling in their younger years, and Autumn was just as fit as any agent at the FBI. Winter didn’t doubt she was physically capable of suplexing another adult human being.
The image of the slender redhead wrapping her arms around another person to toss them backward onto a rug brought a much-needed smile to Winter’s lips as she turned the key over in the ignition of her tried and true Civic.
She’d hardly seen Autumn since Eric Dalton had arrived in Richmond. Now, for the remainder of the investigation, she’d likely bounce back and forth between Baltimore and Richmond as the two offices combined their efforts to track down the murderer of one of their own.
As she shifted the car into reverse, Winter bit back a sigh.
Eric Dalton might be a dipshit, but his daughter and her husband had been kidnapped. Winter had felt Natalie’s fear when she’d walked through the house.
This wasn’t about Eric Dalton’s stupidity, not anymore. This was about finding Natalie and Jonathan. This was about making sure another friend didn’t don the same heartbroken expression that had crossed Bree Stafford’s face earlier in the day.
Once they found Natalie and Jonathan, then Winter could give in to her feud with Eric. Then she could make good on her promise.
Once Natalie and her husband were safe, she would bury Eric Dalton.
18
Though the exterior of the Baltimore FBI office couldn’t have looked more different from the Richmond office, the floor of the spacious building that housed the Violent Crimes Division was remarkably similar.
Noah glanced over to the cluster of cubicles as he and Winter followed the Special Agent in Charge, Marie Judd, to a briefing room at the end of the hall. If the office décor wasn’t different—the agents in Baltimore were clearly more festive than their Virginian counterparts—he could have tricked himself into thinking he was in Richmond.
His and Winter’s flight to Baltimore had been punctuated by a grand total of three sentences.
After his heated conversation with Autumn, his thoughts had spiraled down into a vortex of worst-case scenarios.
The short trip was the closest they had gotten to being alone with one another since she had surprised him with an impassioned kiss after Eric’s failed attempt to bond. If he was honest with himself, he still wasn’t sure what to make of the show of affection.
Was that the reason for her odd behavior over the past couple days? Had she realized that she made a mistake, and now she was looking for a way to fix it without ruining their friendship?
He wanted to let himself believe it meant she held the same feelings for him that he’d long ago realized he had for her. But whenever he felt himself slip into the comforting lull, he was reminded of the end of the Kilroy investigation.
Specifically of the three months when she hadn’t so much as sent him a text message.
As a friend, Winter occupied a vital part of his heart. He didn’t want to patronize her by repeatedly asking if she was sure she knew what she was doing, but he wanted her to be sure.
He wanted her to feel as certain as he did.
At first, he’d been certain that the kiss was the source of all the oddities he’d noticed, but if Winter’s conflicting feelings were the cause of her edginess, then why in the hell had Autumn been so secretive about the reason she was at the Richmond field office?
Though he had no idea what she was keeping from him, he was certain that Autumn was keeping a secret. No, not just any secret. Winter’s secret. And knowing that made him feel like they were in the midst of the Kilroy investigation all over again.
Swallowing against a sudden tightness in his throat, Noah forced his thoughts back to the present. Back to the highly renowned SAC in front of him and the brilliant, stunning woman at his side.
The woman who always seemed to have a secret.
Three people were seated at a rectangular table in the center of the room, two men and a woman. The white light of a laptop screen glinted off the woman’s glasses as she looked up to make note of their arrival.
All three wore grim expressions, though a portion of the darkness dissipated as the SAC led him and Winter into the space.
With a reassuring smile, Marie Judd waved Noah and Winter forward.
The SAC’s silver hoop earrings caught the glow of the overhead fluorescence as she eased the door closed behind them. Though no slivers of gray were present in her close-cropped black hair, her dark eyes glittered with the type of wisdom Noah would only expect to find in someone more than twenty years her senior.
SAC Judd was the first woman of color to attain the lofty title of Special Agent in Charge of the Baltimore office, and she was the second youngest SAC in Baltimore’s history.
According to Max’s accounts of the Maryland SAC, Marie Judd was on track to become a major authority within the bureau.
As she took a seat at Winter’s side, Marie folded her hands atop the table. “Thank you all for making it here. I know this meeting was a little last minute, but we�
�re here for two reasons. First,” she paused to gesture to the two men, “Agent Gibbs, Agent McClary, this is Special Agent Black, and that’s Special Agent Dalton. They’re our help from the Richmond field office.”
The older of the two men, Agent McClary, lifted a bushy eyebrow. “Dalton? Like Natalie Falkner, formerly Dalton?”
Noah gritted his teeth and fought against punching the damn desk. “Yeah, but I’m not here about her. We’re here because y’all are already stretched thin, and now you’ve got a fellow agent’s murder piled on top of it all.”
As the older man nodded, his countenance softened. “Of course. We appreciate it. I didn’t mean to sound like an asshole. It’s just…it’s been a long day.”
Noah returned the nod. “No doubt. We’re here to help.”
Clearing her throat, Winter leaned forward in her chair. “One of our people, Agent Stafford, was really good friends with Agent Hansford. They go way back.”
Though slight, SAC Judd’s expression brightened at the mention of Bree. “I was still a field agent when Agent Stafford was in Baltimore. She’s a damn fine investigator. But that brings me to the second reason we’re all here. We have an update on the Natalie Falkner case. Naomi Clanahan is our lead forensics expert on the Falkner kidnappings and Agent Hansford’s murder.”
The woman at the end of the table nodded and offered a small smile to him and Winter. “Nice to meet you, Agents. I wish it was under better circumstances, but you know what Keith Richards says about getting what you want.”
In spite of the somber air, Noah almost let out a laugh at the silly reference.
“Anyway.” Naomi pushed a piece of auburn hair away from her forehead. “Yes, we’ve got an update about the Falkner kidnappings. Agent Black, you were at the scene, weren’t you?”
“I was,” Winter replied.
“Then I’d like to be the first to tell you, well done. We brought in her car and combed through it, and it looks like you were right.”
Noah raised his eyebrows to flash Naomi an incredulous glance. “Wait. They used Natalie’s car? Why?”
Naomi shrugged, her expression nonchalant. Like the perpetrator’s use of a victim’s car to abduct them was an everyday occurrence. Were kidnappings really that common in this city?
The woman’s voice cut through the contemplation. “Personally, agents, I think the Russians used her car because they didn’t want anyone to see a strange car pulling into their garage. They didn’t want to risk someone jotting down a plate number or catching sight of a make and model. They’re good at cleaning up forensic evidence most of the time, so they probably weren’t too worried about that.”
Though he was still puzzled, Noah nodded. “The risk outweighed the reward.”
“Exactly. We didn’t find any prints aside from hers, Jonathan’s, or their friends’, but there was some of her hair found caught in a seatbelt in the back seat. Which is a bit odd all on its own, but in the driver’s seat, we found something even more interesting.”
Winter’s blue eyes glinted with the intensity she so often expressed during an investigation. “What is it?”
Pushing the laptop around for the group to view, Naomi glanced up to Winter. “We’re still processing it right now, but I think I’ve seen it before. It looks like dust at first blush, but based on the shape of the particles, I think they’re tiny flakes of metal. In metalworking jobs or automotive repair, that sort of thing, there are little bits of liquid metal that get propelled through the air. Depending on the velocity, they cool into oval or cylindrical shapes.”
A spark of recognition flickered in the back of Noah’s mind as he squinted at the magnified photo on the laptop. “I’ve heard of that before. There was a case in Dallas years back that found the same thing. They found it on the victim’s clothes, and it’s how they tied them to the killer.”
Naomi straightened her black-rimmed glasses. “It’s a pretty unique marking, especially when you’re able to analyze the chemical composition. It’s just about as good as a fingerprint, honestly.” She looked over to the two Baltimore agents. “You two were at the meeting this morning, so you already knew that. But we had a chance to look over the trace evidence from Agent Hansford’s clothing a little bit ago. We’ll know with more certainty after we’ve had some time to thoroughly process it, but right now, it looks like the same particles were on Drew’s clothes.”
SAC Judd pursed her lips. “Then it’s like we suspected.”
The first chill of excitement flitted down Noah’s back. “They’re connected. Whoever killed Agent Hansford was involved in the Falkner kidnappings.” And whatever heaping pile of shit Eric’s buried himself under. Noah kept the second part to himself.
He couldn’t say he was surprised.
After four years with the Dallas PD, a stint in the military, and his tenure at the bureau, Noah didn’t believe in coincidences. Drew Hansford had delved into Eric’s involvement with the Russians, and he had lost his life as a result.
Noah looked from one agent to the next. “What else do you have on the Falkner kidnappings? If these two cases are connected, then we can’t overlook anything.”
Agent Gibbs nodded his bald head. “The Falkners had a security system, but someone accessed it online and turned it off for about thirty minutes. We had Cyber Crimes pull the login records, but the login that turned off the system was made from a proxy server out of Shenzhen, China. Whoever it was made sure to cover their tracks, or just avoided making them in the first place.”
“We’ve got the 911 call too,” SAC Judd said. “A lot of the audio is fuzzy and difficult to make out, but our tech team is working on it. It might take a day or so, but they said they’re sure they can clear it up enough for it to be useful.”
“How long did it record?” Winter asked.
A shadow passed over the SAC’s face. “Until the officers got there.”
Noah had to fight to keep the shock from his expression.
Agent Hansford had recorded his own death.
By the time he and Winter arrived at their hotel, Noah was ready to either down a bottle of whiskey or sleep for seventeen hours. They had only been in Baltimore for three or four hours, but he felt like at least a week had passed since their flight landed.
So far, the only positive aspect of the entire damn trip was the hotel.
Though he half-expected a shoebox similar to the hotel they’d stayed in during their first investigation together in Harrisonburg, the thirty-story building near the heart of downtown Baltimore was a pleasant surprise.
He caught a whiff of chlorine from the pool on the main floor, and for about a half a second, he entertained the idea of a soak in the hot tub. But as soon as he remembered that other hotel guests would be there too, he dismissed the idea.
If he opted for the bottle of booze instead of sleeping for seventeen hours, he would revisit the thought once he was good and plastered. Because right then, as he and Winter headed to an elevator, being plastered sounded just short of divine. After all his years in the military and law enforcement, he finally understood why so many cops hit the bar at the end of their shift.
As Winter cleared her throat, he pulled himself from the contemplation to offer her a quizzical glance.
Her lips curved into the start of a smile. “This hotel is a little bit nicer than the one we stayed in while we were in Harrisonburg, isn’t it?”
His chuckle sounded more like a cough. Great minds think alike. “A little bit.”
With a light sigh, she leaned against the metal handrail. A flicker of worry passed over her face, but the expression was short-lived. “I can’t believe that was a year ago.”
“Yeah, well. Time flies when you’re having fun,” he muttered.
A cheery ding sounded out overhead as the car came to a stop on the fifteenth floor. With a quiet hiss, the silver doors slid open to reveal a hall that, compared to Harrisonburg, was pristine.
Winter jabbed an elbow at his upper arm as they stepped
out of the elevator. “You can’t even smell the carpet. We’re moving up in the world.”
On a normal day, he would have laughed at the sarcastic observation. But today, all he could manage was a strained smile. “I’m not sleeping on the floor this time.”
When she smiled up at him, the look was as wistful as it was reassuring. “But if you did, it’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable. Face it, this is a quality floor.”
For emphasis, she tapped her foot against the patterned carpet.
He wanted to continue the lighthearted banter as they approached their rooms. He wanted to add to her joking comments about the floor, about their stay in Harrisonburg a year ago. But try as he might, he couldn’t summon up so much as a hint of humor.
Before he could consider his approach to the topic, he turned to face her. “You’re hiding something.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact.
For a split-second, her eyes widened, and he had his answer before she even spoke. Opening and closing her mouth, she shook her head.
“What is it, Winter?” He intended the question to be cool and composed, but his voice came out raw, scarcely above a whisper.
Here it came. Here came her regret at their impassioned kiss. Here came her announcement that she’d found someone else. He would have been inclined to think she had changed her tune about Aiden Parrish, but he’d heard her talk excitedly about how she was sure the SSA had taken an interest in Autumn. Plus, based on Autumn’s mode of dress earlier that day, Noah thought there was a great deal of merit to Winter’s theory.
Who was it, then? Bobby Weyrick? Bobby was a six-year veteran of the United States Army, a seasoned federal agent, and an objectively good-looking guy.
When she heaved a sigh, he returned himself firmly to the present. “Is there someone else?” he asked. For the second time in their conversation, the words had rolled from his lips before he paused to consider them. He needed to be more careful. Even if Winter found another romantic interest, she was still his friend. He’d rather have her in his life as a friend and coworker than lose her altogether.
