by Lisa Harris
She shook her head. “I never meant to hurt anyone. You have to believe me. I didn’t know what to do. When I found out your father was involved in selling secrets, I left him. I never wanted to be a part of it then, and I certainly don’t want to be a part of it now.”
“Then maybe you should have said something a long time ago,” Jack said. “Because I have a feeling it’s too late.”
He stood up, motioning for Aubrey to leave the room with him, then shut the door behind them. “We need to go find Sean Christiansen.”
Bree nodded. “I know, but . . .”
Jack hesitated. “What’s wrong?”
“So just because we’re for the greater good—the country’s greater good—does that make it right for us to blackmail Rachel into telling the truth, and what about Marianna? If she loses her mother—”
“You’re making this too personal, Bree. It’s a part of the job, to get people to tell the truth. There’s a lot at stake here.”
She knew he was right, but that didn’t make it any easier. “It just doesn’t seem fair when adults mess up and the kids have to pay the price.”
“No. None of this is fair, just like none of this was fair for you when you were a little girl and your father was never there. But God brought people into your life, like the senator’s family, and we can pray that the same thing happens for Marianna.”
“You’re right.” She drew in a deep breath, allowing him to help pull her out of the dark place she’d been headed. There was no time to let the past color the situation they were in. If she couldn’t be objective, she would have to walk away.
“Don’t let her get to you, Bree. We know she’s lied, and from what I’ve seen, there’s a good chance she’s not as innocent as she wants us to think she is.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
AUBREY SLID INTO THE passenger seat of Jack’s car, frustrated at her reaction to the interview with Rachel. Jack had warned her about suppressing the trauma she’d gone through, and she kept telling herself she’d be fine. She fought to keep out her personal feelings and simply work the case objectively, but what if she wasn’t able to do that? Their interview with Rachel had aggravated those feelings. She was clearly no longer able to separate the case from her relationship with her father.
But neither could she just walk away. Which meant she was going to have to work harder to shove back her personal feelings and just focus on the case.
Jack started the engine, then placed a call to his liaison in the Corpus FBI office. “This is Special Agent Jack Shannon. I need an address for a Sean Christiansen here in Corpus Christi.”
“Give me a moment, Agent Shannon.”
After a moment, Kate came back on the line and gave them the address.
“You should know that there was also a 911 call that went out to that address about twenty minutes ago. Local police were called in on a potential robbery.”
“Do you have any details of what happened?” Aubrey asked.
“Just that law enforcement is currently at the scene.”
“We’re on our way.”
“Ask for a Detective Mayweather when you get there,” Kate said. “I’ll let him know you’re coming.”
Fifteen minutes later, Jack pulled in front of the address they’d been given. Four squad cars sat in front of the house, along with a fire truck and an ambulance.
“This is supposed to be a robbery?” Aubrey asked as they headed toward the porch to find the detective in charge. An uneasy feeling spread through her gut, not for the first time over the past few days. Did this have something to do with her father? Everywhere he went, trouble seemed to follow. According to Rachel, he’d planned to come here, so whatever happened inside that house had to somehow be connected to him.
She was just afraid to find out what he’d done.
They walked up to a uniformed officer who’d just stepped out the front door.
Jack held up his badge. “I’m looking for Detective Mayweather.”
“That’s me.”
“I’m FBI Special Agent Jack Shannon and this is Detective Aubrey Grayson. We’re here following up on a lead for an FBI case and looking to speak with Sean Christiansen. We heard that a 911 call came through from this address.”
The older man nodded. “I was told you were on your way here. I’m sorry to say that we found Christiansen’s body inside, in his office.”
“Any suspects?” Aubrey said, dreading the answer to her question.
“I’m afraid not. Single gunshot wound to the head. It looks like suicide, but there are also signs of a robbery. We’re going to have to wait for the coroner’s report until we know for sure.”
“Any witnesses?” Jack asked.
“We haven’t found any yet. A neighbor called in a couple minutes before the wife to report a gunshot.” Mayweather hesitated. “His wife came home, found the front door partially open, then found him lying on the floor in his office. He was already dead.”
“We’re going to want to see the crime scene, then speak with the wife,” Jack said.
“The coroner is on his way here now, but I was told to let you in on our investigation.”
Aubrey headed inside toward the office with Jack, then stopped short halfway into the room. Sean Christiansen’s body lay on the bloodstained carpet with a handgun still clutched in his hand. She tried to visualize what had taken place. Her father had come demanding information. Harsh words had been exchanged, then eventually he’d blackmailed the man, demanding the information he wanted.
And Sean had ended up dead.
Which meant either he’d killed himself, or her father had tried to stage his death. Neither option sat well with her.
“My father was here,” she said.
“We don’t know that for certain, Bree. Not yet.”
“I think it’s a good deduction. Treason to murder isn’t a far step, especially if you are desperate to save yourself. My father needed money, needed intelligence to sell to his contacts, and is running for his life. We know Rachel gave him Christiansen’s name. How else do you expect me to connect the dots?”
Aubrey took a step back, irritated at her sharp reaction. Her father was desperate, and as much as she didn’t want to believe her scenario, desperate people did desperate things. But that didn’t give her the right to take it out on Jack.
“I’m sorry,” she said, catching his gaze.
Jack stepped in front of her. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
“Yes I do. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
“Bree—”
“Nothing that’s happened is an excuse.”
“It’s a pretty good one, if you ask me, and trust me, I can handle your irritation. What you need to remember is that you are not responsible for your father’s actions. Okay?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
Still, she was going to have to find a way to handle the situation. Jack of all people deserved better. And he was right. She’d carried her father’s bad decisions with her, feeling somehow responsible for what he did. But they were his decisions. Not hers.
She turned away from him, focusing her attention on the room and what had gone on in it. A manila envelope lay on the carpet three feet from Christiansen’s head. She reached down and picked it up with her gloved hand, then opened it up and felt her stomach clench as she looked through the black-and-white photos.
“Jack . . . look at this.”
She handed him the photos of two people coming out of a hotel. Holding hands. Huddled beneath an umbrella in the rain. All very personal and intimate.
“Rachel mentioned blackmail,” Jack said. “And something tells me this isn’t Sean Christiansen’s wife he’s with in this picture.”
He turned the picture over and held it up. “Jeanette” was written on the back of one.
“So my father arrives to talk with Christiansen, he has blackmail photos, an argument ensues, with him demanding the intel that the Chinese and Russians want. C
hristiansen refuses, argues with him, and my father shoots him and stages the death to look like suicide.”
“There is another possibility,” Jack said.
She nodded. “Christiansen realizes he’s been exposed, can’t face his wife for what he’s done, and he kills himself.”
Either scenario could have easily played out.
“The other question is, did my father get what he came for?” Aubrey asked.
“I don’t know. The list could have been in a file, a briefcase, on a flash drive . . .”
“I think it’s time we speak with his wife.”
Violet Christiansen looked to be in her early fifties and was dressed like she’d just come back from church or lunch at a nice restaurant. But wherever she’d been, she clearly hadn’t expected to come home to this. She sat on the couch, arms clasped around a pillow, her face red from crying.
“Mrs. Christiansen . . .” Aubrey sat down on the chair closest to the woman. “I’m Detective Aubrey Grayson. I want you to know that I’m truly sorry for your loss.”
The woman nodded but didn’t say anything.
“I’m here with FBI Special Agent Jack Shannon. I know this is difficult, but we need to ask you some questions.”
“You don’t understand,” she said. “My husband would never kill himself. You didn’t know him, but I do.”
“So you believe he was murdered?” Jack asked.
She shrugged. “I just know he wouldn’t kill himself.”
“Can you tell me about the last time you saw your husband?” Aubrey asked. “Did he seem upset? Distant?”
“No. He came home for lunch and seemed fine. He planned to go back to the office, and I went to meet a friend. It was her birthday, and she wanted to go to this . . . this teahouse she likes. When I came home and noticed the front door was open, I called for Sean. His car was here, but there was no answer, which seemed odd. Neither of us ever leaves the door open.” She pulled a tissue from the box next to her and blew her nose. “I . . . I found him in his office. He wasn’t breathing, so I called 911, but I knew it was already too late.”
“Did you see anyone enter or leave the house?” Jack asked.
“No.”
“Did you notice anything missing from his office? His computer, files, a briefcase.”
“I wouldn’t know. I don’t involve myself in his work. He was always pretty private about it. Much of what he does is classified.”
“So you don’t know what your husband was working on?”
“He doesn’t—didn’t—talk to me about his job. He was a computer engineer and worked in digital forensics for the government. I learned to never ask questions. It made things easier between us. He kept his work out of the house, and we talked about other things when he got home.”
Aubrey glanced at Jack. “I know this is difficult, but I need to ask you about something else. Do you know a woman named Jeanette?”
“She . . . she works with my husband. Or used to, at his old job. What does she have to do with this?”
“Were the two of them friends?” Aubrey asked.
“I know they worked on some projects together, but I haven’t seen her for a long time. Why?”
“We’re not sure at this point. But I do have one last question.” Aubrey hesitated. “Did your husband ever mention anyone trying to recruit him to sell government classified information?”
“No, but I can’t imagine him doing something like that. Sean was always incredibly cautious about the information he dealt with. Like I said, he wouldn’t even talk to me about what he was working on.” She drew in a deep breath. “Besides, he loved his job . . . loved his country . . . he wouldn’t have betrayed it. That’s not possible. Not who he is.”
Did he love his country enough to give his life for it?
“We appreciate your time,” Jack said, standing up. “Do you have family who can come stay with you?”
“I . . . yes . . . my sister lives here.”
“Can I call her to come get you?”
“I already called her. She’s on her way.”
“Good.”
“And again,” Aubrey said, “we’re very sorry for your loss.”
A man in dress pants and a button-down shirt was heading up the front walk as they headed out of the house. Detective Mayweather and another officer were talking to one of the neighbors as CSI worked the crime scene.
“What’s going on?” The man charged up the sidewalk, waving his arms as if that would get him the answers he wanted sooner. “I just got a call that Sean was shot, and now there’s police everywhere and the coroner just pulled up.”
Jack stopped him on the front porch. “And you are . . .”
“Bill Geiser. I work with Sean.”
“I’m sorry to inform you that Sean was shot and didn’t survive,” Aubrey said.
“What happened? What about Violet?”
“We’re not sure at the moment, but she’s inside, and I’m sure she could use a friend.” Jack introduced himself. “You said you worked with Sean?”
“Yes.”
“We need to know if anything could have been stolen from Sean. Any files, specifically classified.”
“I don’t know. Sean worked in IT, primarily ensuring the integrity of all our classified data. So people couldn’t steal it.”
“But he had access to it?”
“Potentially. But Sean would never have compromised his job or his country, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“What do you know about the Chameleon List?”
“The Chameleon List . . . enough to know that Sean didn’t have direct access to information like that.”
“But could he have accessed it?”
“It’s possible, but I have no idea how he would.”
Jack gave him his card. “We’ll be in touch.”
Detective Mayweather stepped away from the woman he was talking to and caught up to them at the car.
“We’ve got a possible description of our assailant from the neighbor across the street. We’re sending her to a sketch artist now, but the man was late sixties, graying hair, thin . . .”
Aubrey’s stomach dropped. The description matched her father.
“What about a car?” she asked, pushing her feelings aside for the moment.
“According to our witness, he was driving a black SUV. She didn’t get the license plate, but we just put out a BOLO for him.”
“I think you need to try your father again,” Jack said, as the detective headed back into the house.
“Do you really think it will make a difference?”
“The situation has changed. His face will be all over the news. He’s looking at being charged with murder. And on top of that, he still has both the Russians and the Chinese after him.”
“You’re assuming he didn’t get the list from Christiansen.” She took her phone from her pocket. “What do you want me to say?”
“That you can help. That if he’s innocent of murder, the FBI is willing to make a deal with him if he comes in.”
“Are you?”
“We’ve been investigating Cheng and the others for months, so if he can get them for us, then yes. I’m willing to make a deal with him.”
She waited for him to pick up, but half a dozen rings later, it switched to voice mail. She hesitated, then decided to go ahead and leave a message.
“Hi . . . This is Aubrey. I know you’re in trouble. I’m working with the FBI and I can help, but I need to see you. Call me back. Please.”
She hung up the call, then blew out a sharp huff of air.
“You okay?”
“Yes, but I’m not expecting to hear back from him.”
“He hasn’t said no yet.”
She smiled. “Funny, but you realize this is a long shot. If he’s already made a trade with the Russians or the Chinese, then he’s gotten his money, and he’s long gone.”
Aubrey’s phone buzzed with a text message.
“Who i
s it?”
“It’s him.” She glanced up at him. “He said he’s being set up, and he’s willing to meet me tonight.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
JACK STOOD BY THE window of the senator’s family room and watched Bree pace outside next to the pool. The fading sunlight brought out the red highlights in her hair, and if he were closer, he knew he’d see the flecks of gold in her eyes. He knew she could handle what was about to happen, but she’d been through so much emotionally these past couple days that he hated that she couldn’t just walk away from it all. The past few days had been like ripping off an old scab and had left her in pain emotionally and feeling vulnerable.
He went outside and stepped in front of her before drawing her into a hug and letting her nestle her chin against his shoulder. “You okay?”
“Honestly . . . I don’t know.”
“Then talk to me.” He stepped back, catching the emotion in her eyes before nodding toward a wooden bench overlooking the water. “We still have a few minutes before we have to leave.”
“Okay.”
They sat down on the bench and she leaned forward with her forearms on her legs. Growing up, she’d always been his sounding board, and he couldn’t count the number of times she managed to keep him out of trouble with her advice. She’d always been that kind of friend. He always hoped he’d been the same to her. And now, she needed a friend more than ever.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“It might sound strange, because it’s been almost three years since I last saw him, but I didn’t think I’d feel so emotional over the thought of seeing him again. It just doesn’t make sense. There’s never really been a relationship between us, but somehow I still feel as if I’m betraying him.” Her voice softened as she looked up at him. “I go through with this, and he will end up in prison.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” He reached out and laced their fingers together. “The truth is, your father’s going to prison whether or not you’re involved in his arrest. You’re just helping us speed up the process. All you have to do is say the word and you can walk away without anyone thinking less of you.”
She shook her head. “I can’t just walk away. My job is to bring people to justice, and it shouldn’t matter who’s on the other side. This is who I am, Jack. I can’t simply walk away. I just didn’t think it would be this hard.”
