by Mary Stone
Since it was a weeknight, he didn’t have to wait long before he had a fresh pint glass of seasonal beer in hand. As he approached Autumn, she locked the screen of her smartphone and set the device on top of the wooden table. From just above the rim of her glass, she fixed her eyes on him as he took his seat.
There was more to her gaze than mere scrutiny. Whenever she looked at him like that, Noah was sure she could see straight through any façade he might think to enact.
And she thought he was the interrogation expert.
Sliding into the cushioned booth, he bit back a sigh. “All right, let’s just address the elephant in the room and get that out of the way.”
She folded her arms on the table in front of herself, but she didn’t speak. There was just more of that unsettling stare.
“I’m sorry I grilled you when I saw you at the office. You’re right. If I wanted to know what was going on with Winter, I should’ve asked Winter. It wasn’t cool of me to put you in that position, and I’m sorry.”
The corner of her mouth turned up in a smile. “I appreciate you saying so. Thank you, and apology accepted.”
For the first time since he’d spotted the black Mazda, his pulse started to return to normal. Returning her smile, he held out his glass of beer. A light clink sounded out as she tapped the edge of her glass to his.
After another swig of the pumpkin-based brew, he set the drink to the side and returned his attention to Autumn. “For what it’s worth now, I asked her about it, and she told me. I get why she kept the whole creepy email thing between you guys. It’s just that, back when we were looking for The Preacher, before we knew he was Douglas Kilroy…”
He paused to scratch the side of his face. He didn’t know how much Winter had told her about the Kilroy investigation, nor was he sure how much she was comfortable with him revealing. But if he didn’t give voice to the source of his trepidation, he thought his head might implode.
When Autumn’s green eyes narrowed, he suddenly realized how long he’d been silent.
“Wait,” she said. “Did you guys bang or something?”
Warmth spread over his cheeks as his eyes widened. “What?”
Leaning back in her seat, she offered him an exaggerated shrug. “Hey, no judgment, man. It’s been a long time coming, if you ask me.”
“What?” He sounded like a trained parakeet. “Jesus, woman, who are you?” The question wasn’t quite what he had in mind, but it’d have to work.
To his relief, Autumn started to snicker. “Would you believe me if I said I was created in a lab in Area 51?”
He nodded like the answer should have been obvious. “Yes.”
As her laughter intensified, he couldn’t help but join in the amused outburst. Finally, after damn near an entire week, he felt some semblance of ease return.
“Okay, okay.” She patted the air with a hand as she took another drink. “I’m sorry. I interrupted you. You were saying something about what it was like during the Kilroy investigation.”
Thanks to the moment of levity, he didn’t feel so unsure about bringing up those dark days. As he launched into the explanation, Autumn remained quiet aside from the occasional “mm-hmm.”
Noah was surprised at how cathartic it felt to finally reveal his take on the events to someone else—someone who knew Winter almost as well as he did. He went through virtually the entire Kilroy case. From Tala Delosreyes, to Winter’s surprise transition to the BAU, to the fatal shot that wiped the stain that was Douglas Kilroy off the face of the planet. As he went over Winter’s abrupt departure after the end of the case, he noted a glint of sympathy in Autumn’s eyes.
Straightening in her seat, Autumn polished off the rest of her beer. “You’re worried that’ll happen again.” The words were a statement, not a question. “Worried that she’ll abruptly cut you out so she can chase after her brother by herself.”
All he could offer in response was a nod.
She reached over and gave his hand a quick squeeze. “That’s a valid concern, and, honestly, you’re totally justified in feeling that way. But I don’t think this is the same type of pursuit. The motivation for finding Justin is much different than it was searching for Douglas Kilroy. There’s none of that anger or hate, none of that need for revenge left anymore. It’s more a pursuit of closure.”
“Closure,” he echoed. Just like that, all the puzzle pieces dropped into place.
“Yeah. Revenge is personal. It’s something that you have to do by yourself to really achieve it. But closure’s different. That feeling will still be the same no matter who finds Justin. Even if it’s some random Richmond police officer, the end result will be the same. Winter just wants to make sure it’s all being handled right, and she was frustrated because she had to deal with the case she’d been assigned.”
“Can’t say I blame her,” he muttered into his glass.
Autumn mouthed the word “oh” as she nodded. “Right, I forgot that her current case is Eric Dalton. The donor of half your DNA. Which probably added to her irritation, needing to protect a man who’d been a bastard to her friend.”
Heaving a sigh, he pushed the emptied pint to the edge of the table. “Yeah. He’s in debt to the mob, believe it or not. And despite absolutely no communication with me for, oh, I don’t know,” he paused to make a show of counting on his fingers, “nearly twenty years, he’s here in town because he thinks I’ll drop everything I’m doing and help his stupid ass.”
Autumn wrinkled her nose. “Help him with what?”
At the simple inquiry, he laughed and spread his hands. “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? He claims he made some agreement to start laundering money for the mob, and now they’ve kidnapped his daughter, my half-sister, as collateral, but the more we dig into this thing, the less and less likely that seems.”
She tapped a finger against her pursed lips.
“What? What’s that look for? You got an idea what he’s here for?”
With a shake of her head, she dropped her arm back to the table. “No, not without talking to the guy.”
He nearly sprang to his feet, grabbed her hand, and raced with her to the safe house. Instead, he leaned forward, looking at her intently. “You should.”
“I should what?”
“Talk to him. Ask him why he’s here. Ask him what’s rattling around in that damn head of his.”
Before he’d even finished the suggestion, she was shaking her head. “No. Unless you need a clinical psychological interview, no. I’m a psychologist, not an interrogation specialist. Get Aiden to help you with it. He’s got a badge, and I don’t.”
He flashed her a grin. “But you’ve got a law degree, and he doesn’t.”
Crossing both arms over her black t-shirt, she rolled her eyes.
He raised a hand before she could launch into her counterpoint. “No, no. I’m just kidding.”
Their banter for the next half-hour turned more lighthearted, and by the time they both stood to don their jackets, he felt like a monumental weight had been lifted from his tired shoulders. As they continued a conversation about the television shows they were planning to watch over the coming weeks, they paid their tabs and made their way past the bouncer and out into the night.
Virtually the second Noah stepped onto the sidewalk, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He didn’t know how, he didn’t know why, but he was certain someone was watching them. Glancing back and forth, he spotted a couple college-aged girls walking to their car, but otherwise, the lot was still.
Just before he was about to look back to Autumn, he saw it.
Parked in the row behind the girls’ car was a black Mazda sedan.
The chill of adrenaline flowed freely through his veins as his pulse pounded in his ears. Clenching and unclenching one hand, he gritted his teeth.
“What is it?” The gravity in Autumn’s voice took him aback.
He inclined his chin in the direction of the car. “You see t
hat black Mazda?”
“Yeah, I see it. Looks like there’s someone sitting in it.”
He finally glanced over to Autumn. “That car followed me out of my apartment complex when I left to come here. They didn’t follow me in here, but that’s definitely the same car.”
Her green eyes flicked back over to his. “Who do you think they’re watching? Me or you?”
Furrowing his brows, he pulled his keys from a pocket. “Why would someone be watching you?”
She snort-laughed. “Because I shot and killed a mafia hitman not all that long ago. Seems like something they might take personally.”
His sarcastic chuckle came unbidden. “Fair enough. But since they followed me here, I think it’s safe to say they’re creeping on me. You walked here tonight, didn’t you?”
She nodded.
“Okay, come on. I’ll give you a lift home.”
As diligently as he tried to hide the unease from his demeanor, he doubted the effort was much of a success.
Just like that, all the worries about his and Winter’s relationship were shoved to the backburner.
He could only hope that, whoever in the hell they were, they kept their sights fixed on him, and not Autumn.
But over the last several days, he’d learned how the Russians operated. He knew about their penchant for using friends and loved ones to get to their target.
He knew his hope was wishful thinking.
With a sigh, I leaned back against the couch and turned my vacant stare to the ceiling. I hadn’t even bothered to turn on the lights since I got home.
I’d learned earlier in the day that the investigation of the federal agent Sergei killed had been completely handed over to the FBI. It didn’t matter what resources I tried to tap into at the police station, no one in the Baltimore PD was privy to the inner workings of a federal investigation unless the Feds wanted them to be.
Apparently, the Feds didn’t want us involved.
I couldn’t say I blamed them. I’d been a detective in the narcotics department of the Baltimore city police for sixteen years. After all that time, I knew damn good and well how many other detectives moonlighted by making nice with the gangs and syndicates that called this city home.
But I couldn’t say I blamed them, either. Cops in this city were overworked, underpaid, and underappreciated. Living in this city on a beat cop’s salary was barely one step above the poverty line.
Alek wasn’t happy that I’d been cut out of the investigation, and he hadn’t heard from Sergei in close to a day. Though my first thought was to take a grim sense of satisfaction in the fact that Alek was anxious, I shoved that sentiment as far away as I could manage. If Alek was nervous, then the whole fucking city should be quaking in their shoes.
The man was chomping at the bit to get to Eric Dalton’s son, the federal agent. And to be honest, I didn’t want Alek anywhere near Noah Dalton. Alek had a tendency to use violence without bothering to consider a diplomatic solution first.
The RICO case against Alek’s people was bad enough, but the death or grave injury of another federal agent would be just the excuse the Feds needed to knock down the door of every Russian in Baltimore.
In most cases, the credible threat of violence to a friend or loved one was enough to scare people into submission. The last thing I needed right now was for Alek or Sergei to kidnap one of Noah Dalton’s friends or family members.
But if Eric didn’t persuade Noah to give up the location of the RICO witness, then that was exactly what would happen. Alek had been in this business a long time—even longer than me.
He knew how to hit people where it hurt. And he enjoyed inflicting the pain.
The flash of light in the corner of my eye jerked me from the contemplation and back to the shadowy living room. Though the brightness from the screen of my smartphone brought tears to my sensitive eyes, I welcomed the moment of discomfort when I spotted the name of the caller.
Swiping the answer key, I raised the device to my ear. “Agent Gibbs,” I greeted. “How are you?”
Gibbs chuckled quietly. “I’m all right, Tony. Thanks for asking. Sorry it took me so long to get back to you, it’s been a long day. How are you?”
I’m seriously fucked. “I’m doing all right too.”
“Good to hear. I got your email from earlier. You said you’ve got something you think might help us with the Drew Hansford case?”
“Well, I don’t know how much help it’ll be, but I heard about it and figured I’d reach out to see if I could help. I’ve dealt with the Russians before. Mostly from a narcotics perspective, but maybe I can fill in some of the gaps in what you guys know. I know I’d seen Agent Hansford before, I just didn’t know he was part of the bureau at the time.”
“Really?” Gibbs paused for so long that my nut sac drew up in my body. This had to work. It had to. “That might be helpful, actually. Yeah, you know, it’d be pretty useful to get an idea what his routine was like when he was undercover.”
I was almost giddy with relief and had to force my voice to stay neutral. “I thought it might. Are you free tomorrow morning?”
“I can make some time, yeah. I’ll swing by the precinct around nine.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”
Disconnecting the call, I dropped my face in my hands and let out the breath that had been growing stale in my lungs.
Agent Tim Gibbs was a good man. He’d been in the bureau for longer than I’d been a detective, and he was always willing to go the extra mile to be helpful.
And that was the thing about good men.
They were predictable.
25
After two hours of poring through federal and state records, Winter found no new information to use as leverage in an interview with Sergei Kolesov. The search was tedious, and more than once, her mind had wandered.
Though she’d been content to read Aiden’s update about the progress—or lack thereof—on his search for Justin’s whereabouts, seeing the head of the BAU in Baltimore soon brought on a pang of impatience. If Aiden was in Baltimore, it meant he wasn’t looking for a lead in Justin’s case.
When the frustration first crept into her thoughts, she’d cringed at herself.
Of all those involved in the Falkner kidnappings, she knew best the type of fear Natalie had experienced. She knew because she had experienced that same fear when she and Bree looked through Natalie and Jon’s house.
A woman and her husband had been forcibly taken by the damn mafia, and she was pissed because her friend and mentor had taken time away from a decades-old cold case to help them.
But even as she’d refocused herself on sifting through Sergei’s background to uncover a potential lead they could use as leverage, her thoughts kept circling back to her brother. Aiden hadn’t been in Harrisonburg, in that house, but she had.
After an internal debate, she’d finally sought out Aiden. Though she’d approached him under the guise of requesting an update about Justin’s case, she wondered if he understood her motives better than she did. His tone had been pointed but understanding when he advised that there was no new information for him to research. The forensics team was still working on a couple active homicide cases, and they hadn’t yet gotten a chance to review the evidence collected from Winter’s childhood home.
When she left their short discussion, she’d felt like a temperamental child.
Aiden had a knack for making people feel like that.
Despite the mild embarrassment, the answer to her query had been enough to give her the focus she needed to dig back into Sergei Kolesov’s history. The man had lived in the United States for the past fifteen years, and despite his reputation among the Baltimore PD, his record was surprisingly clean. He was a naturalized American citizen, and all the petty crimes on his rap sheet had occurred after he gained citizenship.
So, first and foremost, they couldn’t use the threat of deportation. All Sergei’s arrests were misdemeanors, so they couldn�
��t use the Three Strikes laws. Not that they needed to. Like Bobby had said earlier, they had him dead to rights on a murder charge.
But if a life sentence with no chance for parole wasn’t enough to sway Sergei to give them an accurate account of Drew’s murder and Natalie Falkner’s kidnapping, Winter didn’t know what would be enough. Sure, Sergei had a wife and two children, but they were the FBI, not the damn knee-cracking mafia.
As Marie Judd strode through the door, Winter returned her attention to the room.
On the other side of the one-way glass, Sergei had hardly moved.
“Ladies, gentlemen.” The Baltimore SAC swept her gaze over the room’s occupants—Winter, Bobby, and Aiden. “I take it we didn’t have any sort of breakthrough with Mr. Kolesov?”
Winter shook her head. “I looked, and there wasn’t anything new that came up. He’s married, two kids, and he’s a naturalized citizen. All that he’s been arrested for so far are petty theft and drug charges.”
Marie nodded. “Well, I just talked to Agent Gibbs, and he’s got a connection in the Baltimore PD he thinks can help give us some insight.”
Aiden lifted an eyebrow. “I thought this was being handled exclusively by the bureau?”
“It was.” Marie sighed. “But if we can’t get anywhere with it, then we don’t have much choice. We’ll share what we’ve got with the Baltimore police, and hopefully, they’ll be able to tell us something new.”
Though Aiden pursed his lips, he didn’t respond.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Marie glanced to the glass and then back to the little gathering. “He hasn’t asked for a lawyer yet?”
Bobby Weyrick shook his head. “He hasn’t said anything yet. I think he’s asleep right now.”
Winter scoffed. “How in the hell do you just fall asleep in an FBI interrogation room?”
With a shrug, Bobby leaned back in his chair. “In the military, they teach you techniques to fall asleep in inhospitable terrain. Maybe they do the same thing in the mob.”
