“You pocket-dialed me,” Maggie said.
“I…Hang on.” He plucked his phone from his front pocket, checked the screen. “I sent you a text.”
“Which I got. I was still on my way to my office, so I turned around and headed back up the mountain. On my way here, you called me. Or, your pocket did. That’s when I heard gunshots. When you didn’t respond, I freaked and called Roni on my work phone.”
Roni glanced back at Bernadette’s pickup, then back to Jay’s wounded SUV. If she had waited another minute, what would she have found on this mountain road? All she knew was that she’d roared around the curve and found Way under fire.
He met Roni’s gaze, the heat from a minute ago now cooling. “You could have gotten killed.”
Did his voice just crack a teensy bit? Probably, but they didn’t have time to argue over her actions. “But I didn’t. So let’s skip the lecture about the stupidity of jumping in front of a bullet. I did it because I wouldn’t have been able to stand it if you died. Believe me, I wasn’t being heroic. It was actually quite selfish. So”—she waggled her hand—“spare me your derision.”
Way straightened up, drawing his eyebrows together, then faced Maggie.
Did he expect her to help him?
He’d likely be waiting a long time. Certain things were a girl code violation and this one was rated a Class A felony.
Maggie put up two hands. “I’m not getting into this with you. Personal issues aside, we’ve got chaos here. I already have calls in to ATF and the Bureau. They’re on their way to the hospital to question Bernadette.”
“Was she even conscious?” Roni wanted to know.
Maggie gave a quick nod. “Responding to commands. Which is fairly unbelievable, considering her injuries. She has a nasty laceration and probably a concussion from you clocking her, and she’ll need surgery for the gunshot wounds. Total mess.”
Roni blew out a burst of air, letting her shoulders drop with the release. She refused to feel guilt. Not after what Bernadette had put them through.
She tilted her head back, letting the sun’s warm rays wash over her as she tried to make sense of it all. The few times she’d met Bernadette, the woman had always been welcoming and kind. Anyone friendly with her son, she’d say, was always welcome.
Without question, she adored Jeff, as any mother should. But to what end?
Roni gave up on the sun and met Maggie’s eyes. “I’m so confused. I mean, we’ve been in Bernadette’s presence. Did you ever think she’d be capable of”—she turned, gestured to the police cruisers and flashing lights behind them—“this?”
“God no. I’m as stunned as you are. I’m sure ATF and the Bureau are already hunting down judges for search warrants. They’ll want to go through everything in her house.”
Roni thought about the grand house on the lake she’d so admired. Who knew what Bernadette, former government analyst, had hidden in there. “Think about all of her contacts. Don Harding, Karl. Clay. She might be our common denominator.”
“I don’t know,” Way said. “Even if she got the design, it takes skill to build that bullet. And what’s the connection between my bullets and avenging Jeff’s death?”
“I guess that’s what we need to find out,” Roni said.
She gazed at the techs processing the crime scene. County employees. All of them. She bit down on her bottom lip. Haywood County.
Ohmygod.
She whipped her head to Maggie. “This is a crime scene. In your county.”
Maggie smiled and nodded. “I like the way you think. Let’s go.”
“Wait,” Way said. “What?”
Maggie started toward her cruiser. “We need our own warrant. I’ll find my favorite judge. Tell him there’s been a shooting and I need to search Bernadette’s house. If we work quickly, we’ll beat the feds there.”
* * *
Maggie dropped Roni and Way off at his workshop. After their fight, the last place Roni wanted to be was alone with him. Her emotions were too churned up. Too clogged with visions of his bullet-hole-riddled body. The man was too stubborn, too focused on doing everything his own damned way. She couldn’t live like that. She’d worked too hard to build a life of independence. To have control of her world.
And she couldn’t give it up.
Besides, she had a call to make. To Langley. Where she’d clue in Karl Quigley and Don Harding about their friend going psycho.
Way handed her a burner he’d retrieved from his safe. Only she would fall for a guy who kept a stash of new, untraceable phones.
Shaking her head, she texted Karl from her own phone, letting him know she was about to call him from a different line and that he should, without question, answer.
She waited a few seconds for her phone to flash the lovely word read.
“He got my message.” She grabbed the burner phone and dialed.
On the first ring, he picked up. “Karl Quigley.”
“It’s Roni. Call me back from a secure line. We’ll need Don on the call also.”
“You don’t order me around. I call the shots.”
“Fine. But while you’re calling the shots Bernadette Ambrose is getting two bullets pulled out of her ass.”
Heavy silence filled the phone line. Good. She’d shocked him.
“What?”
“You heard me. Now, if you’d like, I can go into great detail on this call or you can call me back—with Don present—from an unmonitored line.”
“I’ll call you back.”
Excellent. The egomaniac wasn’t a complete loss. She punched the end call button on the phone and held it up. “He’s calling me back.”
“Good. Can we talk?”
Now he wanted to talk? No way. Maybe tomorrow or next week or three months from now, but right now she couldn’t do it. Not when every inch of her was exposed and vulnerable. All he’d have to do was apologize. Hold his arms out and she’d give in. All because she wanted to be held, by him, and given a little comfort after a firefight.
Can’t do it. If Way Kingston wanted to be part of her life, he’d have to learn to compromise. To listen once in a while.
“No talking,” she said.
“Roni—”
The burn phone rang. Literally saved by the bell. She hit the speaker button. “Hello?”
“It’s Karl.”
His voice filled the room and Roni glanced behind her, making sure the door to the outer office was closed. Even with the door shut, she lowered the volume on the phone.
“Do you have Don?”
“Patching him in now. Don?”
“I’m here.” The words came in a rush. “What’s this about Bernadette getting shot?”
“Waylon Kingston was ambushed by Bernadette Ambrose on a mountain road.”
“What the hell, Fenwick?”
“Bullshit!”
Ignoring them, she continued. “It’s true. I was there. Saw the entire thing. She took multiple shots at him, and subsequently at me, with a Colt .45. The same caliber weapon used for the frangible bullet shootings.”
“What the hell?” Karl thundered.
Roni held her wounded hand up as if they could see it. “We don’t have a lot of time. Let me finish and then ask your questions. If you don’t believe me, I’m happy to send you a photo of my bandaged hand to show you where the bullet grazed me.”
“What about Kingston?” Don asked.
She glanced over at Way and put her finger to her lips to keep him silent. “Alive and well. Unharmed. Although it was his two bullets that wound up firmly ensconced in Bernadette’s rear. She is, as we speak, in surgery.”
“My God.” Don let out a harsh breath.
If he thought he was stunned now, he should keep listening.
“By the time she’s out of surgery,” Roni said, “the Bureau and ATF will be waiting for her. They’ll have questions, I’m certain, as to why the mother of a murdered ATF agent chose to shoot at a CIA employee and the creator of an in
sanely catastrophic frangible bullet the agency is now testing. See what I’m saying here? If the feds pull on that string, who knows what might be revealed? If I were a betting woman, I’d say someone shared that bullet design with Bernadette.”
“It sure as hell wasn’t me,” Don said.
Way waved a hand, drawing her attention. “Ask about Clay,” he mouthed.
She nodded. “What about Clay Bartles? What was his involvement in the deal with Kingston?”
“Yes,” Karl said much too quickly. “It had to be him. We don’t have 24/7 access to Bernadette’s or Bartles’s conversations, but he was intimately involved with the deal. They could be working together.”
Oh, these fuckers. Already she could sense the spin doctors at work. Roni glanced at Way, who gritted his teeth so hard a muscle in his jaw jumped. He’d better not say one word. She pointed at him, then slashed her hand across her throat.
When he nodded, she nearly gawked. Good for him. “We have one problem with that, fellas,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“From what I understand about this bullet, it takes a certain amount of skill to recreate it.”
“Bernadette was a field agent,” Don chimed in. “She knows how to use a weapon. She went through the Farm, for God’s sake.”
“She obviously has firearms training. Based on what we saw today, I can’t comment on her marksmanship skills. It was a…stressful…situation. I think we had her scattered enough that she plugged a lot of holes in two vehicles rather than damned near killing us both. That being said, just because she knows her way around a handgun doesn’t mean she knows how to create a bullet like this. I have to believe the same of Clay Bartles.”
That last part about Clay? A total reach. She didn’t know diddly about his gunsmithing skills. She peered up at Way and held her hands palm up, silently asking the question. Way shook his head indicating Clay wouldn’t have the necessary knowledge to reverse engineer the bullet.
“In fact,” she said, “according to Way Kingston, Clay did not have that level of experience. So, gentlemen, I’m asking you, before the feds pull on that thread, is it possible someone from science and development helped Bernadette? Because it sure is looking like she had help.”
When the line went quiet, Roni closed her eyes for a second, centering her thoughts. Containment. That’s what they wanted. She reopened her eyes. “Tick, tock,” she said. “If we don’t get ahead of the feds, this thing will go viral.”
“No,” Don said. “It didn’t come from me or my people. Frankly, I wish it had. We’d at least have an answer.”
“We need to button this up,” Karl said. “I’ll reach out to ATF and the Bureau, see what they have.”
Whether he’d be honest with her about what they said, was anyone’s guess. Somewhere in this process, Roni had lost sight of who to trust inside Langley.
She glanced over at Way. The person she came here to dig up dirt on had wound up being the one most honorable. “While you’re at it,” she said into the phone, “figure out how to keep Waylon Kingston’s name out of this. Or I swear to you, I’ll call the news networks myself. Keep me posted.”
She clicked off and tossed the phone on Way’s workbench.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Your ass is still in a sling here, pal. It’ll be a miracle if we keep your involvement under wraps.”
“Still. Thank you for trying.”
“I’m pissed at you, but you were innocent. A contractor doing work for your country. Plus, I like your family. I’m not about to let you go down for this.”
He studied her through narrowed eyes. “You like my family.”
The comment came as a simple statement and it nearly gutted her. Yes, she liked his family. Too much. She should have known better. Being surrounded by loving people who allowed her into their warm fold wasn’t the norm in Roni’s world.
“I do,” she said. “They don’t deserve to see you dragged through a scandal. Or worse.”
“I agree. That wasn’t my point, though. I’m wondering where I stand in all this. You like my family, but what about me?”
Question of the day. She felt…something. Something big and powerful and unlike anything she’d experienced before. It held an edge of desperation that equally terrified and thrilled her.
And she wanted more of it. Plenty more. Based on what she’d seen, Way couldn’t give it to her. She didn’t need—or want—him to completely give up the Kingdom of Way, but there had to be room for her.
That, she knew.
“Way, I’ve been alone a long time. This last week with you made me realize that. Which, I suppose, is a good thing.”
“Okay.” He shrugged. “I think.”
His rich, dark eyes made her think of warm fires and…home. She might be completely dreaming now. Total wishful thinking.
She slid onto the counter-height stool beside Way’s workbench, fiddled with the tip of her fingernail where a rough edge needed filing. When this was over, she’d treat herself to a manicure.
“I have no family. I’ve spent years convincing myself that I’m fine without it. It’s the insanity of self-protecting—as if that really works. Then you come along and, as maddening as you are, I feel, I don’t know, safe, I guess. Like I want the family I’ve been denying myself. With you, I can suddenly picture a future I never allowed myself to hope for.”
A punch of emotion blocked her throat, trapping her air.
He stepped toward her. Way to the rescue. If he touched her, she’d be a goner.
She held up her hand. “I’m fine. Again. This is all good. I’m finally being honest with myself.”
“I don’t understand. Isn’t feeling safe the whole point of being in a relationship? How is that a deal-breaker?”
“It’s not. The deal-breaker is you being accustomed to life your way. You’re entitled to live it how you want. Unfortunately, I’m just as stubborn, so for us to be together, we’ll both have to bend. I’m not sure you’re ready for that.”
He let out a long sigh. Closed his eyes for a second. Poor guy.
“It’s all right,” she said. “We’re in the middle of a mess right now. Let’s not pile on. Besides, I’ll be heading back to DC soon. I don’t even know if I still have a job. I’ll need to deal with that.”
Her phone rang. Her personal one. Not the burner. She slid it from her back pocket. Maggie. She tapped the screen. “Hi. What’s up?”
“I got the warrant. I have a team heading to Bernadette’s.”
Roni hopped off the stool, her heels clapping against the tile. “We’ll meet you there.”
“Uh. No.”
Given that the home was part of a criminal investigation, Roni knew there’d be no way Maggie would let them inside. “We’ll wait outside. I promise.”
“I don’t want either one of you on the property. The feds will eventually show up, and I want that scene pristine.”
Meaning no civilians trampling through.
“Fine. We’ll stay across the street. But we’ll be there. Just in case something comes up.”
Before Maggie could protest, Roni hung up. “Let’s go,” she said to Way. “Maggie got us a warrant.”
25
Thirty minutes into the drive to Bernadette’s, Roni’s phone rang. A local number. T. Holbrath.
Holbrath.
She knew that name.
She tapped the screen and put the phone to her ear. “Roni Fenwick.”
“Ms. Fenwick, this is Special Agent Terence Holbrath.”
Special Agent. The one who’d phoned Way regarding Clay’s murder. She’d wanted to check him out, which led to their argument this morning. She should just blame the whole thing on this guy. It would be so much easier than thinking about her and Way’s useless attempt to deal with each other.
“Agent Holbrath, how can I help you?”
Way’s head snapped sideways. She pointed at the road, reminding him he had precious cargo on boa
rd. Namely her.
“Ms. Fenwick, I understand you’re acquainted with Bernadette Ambrose.”
“I am. Her son was a colleague.”
“Yes. I’m sorry for your loss. I’m also aware of the incident this morning. Are you all right?”
She glanced down at her bandaged hand, thankful that was the only injury suffered. “I’m fine. What can I do for you?”
“I need for you to come to the hospital.”
Ha. He needed? She had an entire list of things she needed and nobody seemed in a great rush to provide them.
Now she wanted a pity party?
Nuh-uh. Not going there. She’d left pity parties behind after her last foster home. “I’m in the middle of something. What’s the problem?”
“Bernadette Ambrose. She’s out of surgery and would like to speak with you.”
Roni gawked. She couldn’t have heard that right. “Excuse me? Did you just say Bernadette wants to speak with me?”
At that, Way whipped his head at her again, this time swerving a little, then going back to the road. “Sorry,” he said. “But what the hell?”
“Yes.” Holbrath spoke over Way’s apology. “She’s refusing to give a statement until she sees you.”
Gobsmacked, Roni stared out the windshield at the giant oak trees lining the four-lane road. This was a new one. “Any idea what she wants to speak to me about?”
“No, ma’am. But she claims she’ll tell us everything if she speaks to you first.”
“You’re not doing it,” Way grumbled. “No way.”
Another thing they’d be forced to disagree on. Because, yes, she was most definitely doing this. Curiosity alone was enough to get her there. “Is her lawyer present?”
“On the way. All we need is you.”
“Well, then, I guess I’ll be there shortly.” She poked at the phone and tossed it into the cupholder. “Change of plans.”
“You can’t be serious,” Way said.
“You’d better believe I am. Take me to the hospital. Bernadette has something to say."
* * *
Three hours later, after Bernadette was transported from recovery and doctors cleared Roni for a visit, Roni entered Bernadette’s hospital room. The closed-in, antiseptic-laced staleness released an assault of memories. Her father wincing in pain as his body, literally loose skin over bone, fell deeper and deeper into unconsciousness.
Burning Ache Page 27
