On the List

by Patricia Rosemoor

  “This is a S.A.F.E. matter,” she said, “and I’m going to try throwing it back at the agency and see if it sticks this time. Maybe with this new information…”

  Embry Lake had been a disaster for S.A.F.E. and now there was a connection between the massacre and the City Sniper shootings. At least one of them. She couldn’t not hand over that information. Surely, Elliott Mulvihill would have to act on this report.

  “What if it doesn’t stick?” Gabe asked, his tone terse.

  “Then I’m back where I started—”

  Before she could say “alone,” Gabe cut in. “You mean we’re back where we started.”

  “No, Gabe.”

  “Promise me, Renata. Or I’ll run with it myself. With other members of the team.”

  She knew he wasn’t bluffing. The thing she still didn’t know was why.

  “Why, Gabe? Why is this so important to you?”

  “You’re important to me. No matter what you say, I’m not going to leave you to hang out to dry alone.”

  She didn’t want to continue the argument. Her emotions were suddenly feeling as raw as her throat. But Gabe wouldn’t leave it alone.

  “You do realize this means Mulvihill will shut you down.”

  “He already did that.”

  “Then why are you going back for more?”

  “Because it’s my job. It’s who I am.”

  “You’re not your job. You’re so much more than your job. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met. And I’m only getting to know you.”

  Though she was appreciative of the compliment, she didn’t pursue that line of thought. And as if he’d realized he couldn’t do anything to change her mind, Gabe ceased trying to do so. With the steering wheel in what looked like a death grip, he stared at the road ahead.

  Renata felt his anger, though. It washed over her in waves and made her sick inside. She didn’t want to be at odds with Gabe over this. She also didn’t want him to risk his life for her again. She didn’t want anyone to die for her, but especially not him.

  Not when she’d just found him…

  SEVERAL HOURS LATER, Renata was at her computer, trying to put thoughts of Gabe on hold.

  Even though it was a Saturday, the office was at half staff, agents working on current cases. Even Mulvihill was in his office. She was making out another report—detailing information about Chuck LaRoe/Russell Ackerman, Hank Oeland and the fire that had almost ended her investigation—when Paul Broden stuck his head inside her cubicle.

  “Hey, back to work already? I thought you were on orders to stay away until summoned.”

  Saving the document, she said, “New developments.”

  “Really.” He stepped inside and perched at the edge of her desk. “Something viable?”

  “One of the victims was using an assumed identity.”

  He frowned. “What’s with the voice?”

  “I’m allergic to smoke.” Actually, her throat was feeling better and she was sounding a little more normal than earlier. She set up the document to print. “Chuck LaRoe’s real name was Russell Ackerman.”

  “Ackerman. That’s familiar.”

  “Embry Lake.”

  “What?” Broden’s shock was palpable.

  “He supposedly died there.”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “Positive.”

  Broden mumbled a curse and said, “You may have hit on something. Not that Mulvihill will want to hear it.”

  Renata met his gaze and shrugged. She had to do what she had to do. That didn’t mean she looked forward to facing the lion in his den.

  Grabbing the printout, she stuffed it in the folder she’d prepared and hurried out of the cubicle to the director’s office before he could leave. Or before she could change her mind. But the moment she stepped foot into his office, before she could so much as open her mouth, Mulvihill was already glowering at her.

  “I thought I was clear about what I expected from you, Agent Fox.”

  “Just as I was clear about what I meant to do,” Renata countered, placing the folder on his desk directly in front of him.

  Mulvihill didn’t even look at it. He shook his head and said, “So you’re going for insubordination.”

  “I found a link between the City Sniper and Embry Lake.”

  In response, Mulvihill simply stared at her, his ex pression darkening. If the information surprised him, he was certainly hiding it well.

  “Don’t you even want to know—”

  “I want you to stop digging where you don’t belong!” Mulvihill shouted as he jumped to his feet.

  Making Renata take a step back.

  Why in the world was he suddenly so vehement? Because she’d brought up Embry Lake? Had he already known about the connection?

  “If I don’t belong working on a case important to S.A.F.E., as well as to the public I serve,” Renata said, anger adding to her frustration, “then where do I belong?”

  “Maybe out of this agency,” Mulvihill said, suddenly sounding more exhausted than exasperated. “I’m satisfied this case is closed. What I’m not satisfied with is you. You’re beginning to make me sorry I ever hired you. And if you pursue this issue further, or talk to one more media person, I promise I can fix that.”

  Her anger growing at the threat, Renata said, “Embry Lake, read the report,” before turning her back on the director and walking out of his office, more determined than ever to learn the whole truth.

  GABE HAD BEEN UNEASY ever since seeing Renata to her apartment door. If he’d expected her to call him, he would certainly have been disappointed. So he hadn’t expected anything.

  Instead, he’d gone home, showered, shaved and tried to get some sleep. But every time he closed his eyes, all he could see were flames…and Renata when she was about to pass out.

  He had to see her to be sure she was okay.

  After calling to make sure Renata was checked in at S.A.F.E., he waited across the street from the offices, with both the front exit and the alley in view. He intended to stay there and wait all night, if necessary. But of course it didn’t take that long. He’d barely been in position for ten minutes before she exited via the loading dock. She cautiously looked around her, but somehow she didn’t spot him.

  Which made him realize she was distracted.

  He watched her for a moment.

  Tension oozed from her. She was angry. Undoubtedly his prediction that she wouldn’t succeed in convincing Mulvihill of anything had come true. Of course not. Not when Mulvihill was hiding his own culpability.

  How far would Mulvihill go to protect himself? Gabe wondered.

  Murder?

  Was he acting on his own, or did he have another pair of hands to do the dirty work?

  How guilty was he?

  Gabe was about to go to Renata when another man accosted her. She didn’t look pleased. Tall and whipcord thin with a boyish face under spiked hair, the man was saying something that made her face redden.

  Gabe picked up his pace and jogged across the street.

  Renata turned away, but the man grabbed her by the arm and spun her around. Reacting quickly, she stomped his instep and threw her shoulder into him. He seemed about to reciprocate with a fist when a furious Gabe got to the man, spun him around and punched him in his boyish face.

  “What the hell—”

  The man flew for him and Gabe ducked too late. Knuckles made contact with his lip and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.

  “Tag! Gabe!” Renata got between them. “Stop it!”

  “Who is this jerk?” Tag asked her. He glared at Gabe. “I ought to arrest you for assaulting a federal officer!”

  “I’m a friend of the lady, and she doesn’t like to be touched. Respect that.”

  Now it was Renata touching him. She tugged at his arm to get him to move. “C’mon, Gabe. Tag, just drop it.”

  “You’ll be sorry, Fox. You and your lover boy here.”

  Gabe whip
ped right around, asking, “Is that a threat?”

  “Enough!” Renata said. “Tag, get lost. Gabe, let him go.”

  Tag glared at her, then stalked off.

  “Where’s the car?” Renata asked.

  “A block over.” He indicated the direction.

  “Let’s go.”

  Gabe simmered down and let her lead him away. “I assume that idiot is someone you work with?”

  “Sort of. Tag Garvey is a sharpshooter, so he’s part of the team.”

  “Sharpshooter.”

  “One of the men who shot Muti Hawass. He thinks I’m trying to make him and the others look bad.” She glanced at him. “You’re the one who looks bad.” While they waited on the corner for the light to change, Renata dug in her shoulder bag and came up with a tissue. “Hold still a moment.”

  Wincing herself as she looked up at him, she tended to his lip, dabbing at the cut.

  Calming down at her touch, Gabe suggested, “It would feel better if you kissed it.”

  He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms. For a moment, their gazes locked and Gabe swore he saw a reflection of his own emotions.

  Then she croaked, “Maybe later.”

  He grunted.

  “I could have handled Tag myself,” she informed him as the light changed and they crossed the street. “You should have let me.”

  “I didn’t know who he was. He could have been the sniper. At least the person who’s been after you. Considering what I know now, that seems totally credible.”

  “Tag? He’s obnoxious, but he’s Mr. Clean. He follows orders to the T, but he doesn’t have an original thought of his own.”

  “Maybe he’s taking orders from someone higher up,” Gabe said, thinking of Mulvihill. Did this Garvey work for the director in an unofficial capacity?

  Renata simply blinked at the suggestion, as if considering the possibility. Then she shook the thought away and asked, “What are you doing here, anyway?”

  “Investigating.”

  “Investigating what?”

  “My favorite subject—you. I wanted to see for myself if you got anywhere with your new report. I wish it had worked out for you.”

  She made a sound of disgust. “Can you read everyone this easily?”

  “Some are easier than others.”

  But she was the easiest. Even though they’d only met a few days before, he felt as if he’d known her most of his life. An odd feeling.

  When they arrived at the car, he opened the door for her and helped her in before getting behind the wheel and heading for Lake Shore Drive.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “Time for some intellectual stimulation,” he said.

  “Clarify, please.”

  “A bookstore.”

  “Chuck LaRoe?”

  “Chuck LaRoe.”

  Considering how the investigation hadn’t been as thorough as it might have been if S.A.F.E. hadn’t tagged Muti Hawass so fast, Gabe figured it wouldn’t hurt to see what they could learn about Russell Ackerman’s activities in Chicago once he’d donned the Chuck LaRoe identity. And that meant starting with his co-workers at Hawley’s Bookstore, several miles north of the downtown area.

  “You know, LaRoe’s arrest makes more sense now,” Gabe said, “in light of his being part of the Embry Lake Brigade. Their leader, Joshua Hague, took a stand against our military action in other countries, and Ackerman/LaRoe was arrested for participating in a war protest without a permit.”

  “And yet, we had it from a reliable source that Hague was conspiring with terrorists.”

  “If he really was,” Gabe said. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” To his knowledge, the old man had been about protecting the homeland, not invasion. Sort of like the S.A.F.E. credo. “Sources have been known to be wrong, to lead good people to foolish deeds.”

  “Like killing Muti Hawass,” she murmured. “He was thought to have associated with terrorists. Paul Broden, one of the agents I work with, thought that justified his being killed, whether or not he was guilty of being the City Sniper.”

  “Warped logic.”

  “But from what I gather, not uncommon at S.A.F.E.,” Renata said, “and for all I know, maybe not at any law enforcement agency. Some people don’t care how or why criminals are stopped, as long as someone stops them.”

  Is that what Mulvihill thought he was doing? Gabe wondered. Making people pay?

  “Commit one crime and pay for another, but I don’t see that as being justice,” Renata said.

  “That’s because you’re a straight arrow.”

  “What about you, Gabe? How straight an arrow are you in all this?”

  “Hey, I already told you I’m your side. That I have a problem with someone being killed for something he didn’t do.”

  Gabe wondered what was going on in Renata’s mind. She knew where he stood on the issue, but she was still pressing him. He thought she trusted him, but maybe not. Or maybe she was simply getting nervous because of what had almost happened between them. Maybe she was looking for ethical differences, which, in her mind, was the easy way out.

  She didn’t have to look at all. No matter how he felt about her, no matter how much he felt for her, he wouldn’t kid himself. Soon, she would know the whole truth about him, about why he was after Mulvihill, about Embry Lake…

  And then she would turn her back on him, because what could he say in his own defense?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hawley’s Bookstore was located in a massive building that reminded Renata of a warehouse. The books were used—or pre-owned, as Hawley’s advertised—mostly hardback, including lots of expensive coffee-table picture books.

  When Renata identified herself and asked for the manager, she and Gabe were led back to Mickey Hamilton’s office, a room with a desk, a couple of chairs, a single filing cabinet and stacks and stacks of books. Hamilton himself was youngish—maybe thirty—and dressed in black. His blond hair was spiked, both ears were pierced and he wore funky little dark-framed glasses.

  “Agent Fox,” Hamilton said after glancing at her identification and indicating they should sit. “What can I do for you?”

  Thankful he didn’t ask to see Gabe’s ID, she said, “We’re continuing the investigation into Chuck LaRoe’s murder.”

  “I thought you had the guy. That terrorist.”

  “Maybe. But we want to look deeper.”

  “Aha, you mean you’re looking for a motive,” the manager said knowingly.

  Probably a mystery reader, Renata thought. “Right, we’re trying to figure out motive.”

  Hamilton spread his hands and looked from her to Gabe. “I’m afraid I’ve told you people everything I know about Chuck. Which isn’t much.”

  “You never know what could have gotten overlooked,” Gabe said.

  Willing him to leave the questioning to her, Renata gave Gabe an annoyed look, then felt guilty. He’d put himself on the line for her, had risked his life saving hers. Official or not, he was as much a part of this investigation as she was. Gabe caught her gaze and the way he looked at her with such intensity made her stomach tumble even as she turned her attention back to the manager.

  “Why don’t you start at the beginning,” she suggested, “and describe the circumstances around your hiring Chuck LaRoe.”

  “I placed a sign for help in the window, he came in and filled in the application. I hired him. Simple.”

  “What about references?”

  “As I told you people before, I was desperate for help at the time, so I hired him. I meant to check out the references, but I never did.”

  “Why not?”

  “He was good at what he did. Customers liked him. Hell, I liked him.”

  “The application—do you still have it?”

  “I already gave it to you people.”

  Renata tried not to be offended by his using you people as if he were lumping her in his mind with every other officer of the law. Probably
he did.

  “You gave it to whom?” she asked. “Chicago police or S.A.F.E.?”

  “I don’t remember now.”

  Then he must have given it to someone from the CPD. She’d been through LaRoe’s file more than once and the application hadn’t been in there or she would have remembered seeing it.

  “Do you remember any of the names of those references?”

  “You gotta be kidding. That was months ago.”

  “What about friends?” Gabe asked.

  Renata chanced a glance his way and was grateful Gabe’s attention was on the manager rather than on her. Bad enough she got distracted by his simply being there.

  “I know nothing about Chuck’s life away from the bookstore,” Hamilton was saying. “He was a guy who liked his privacy.”

  Renata asked, “What about in the bookstore? Was he friendly with anyone in particular?” If so, perhaps that person might have a better handle on the man.

  “Not that I ever noticed,” the manager said. “Chuck usually kept to himself. He had a good rapport with the customers, but he really didn’t go out of his way to be friendly with the staff.”

  “Didn’t you find that unusual?”

  “Writers are often solitary people who live in their heads,” Hamilton said, as if he knew this from personal experience.

  “Writers?” Renata echoed. “You’re saying Chuck LaRoe was writing something?”

  “Well, yeah. A book. A couple of us got into this discussion of how difficult it was to come up with a really great idea. And Chuck overheard us and said reality is sometimes stranger than fiction. And more lucrative. So I asked him if he was writing a book based on something that really happened. He admitted as much.”

  “What kind of a book?” Gabe asked.

  “It had to do with a murder, so either a mystery or thriller,” Hamilton said.

  Or true crime, Renata thought, though she didn’t say it.

  The manager went on. “Chuck was real funny about it all, like as soon as it came out of his mouth he regretted saying anything. Wouldn’t give me any details. But he said it was something that was going to make him a lot of money, get him out of the bookstore biz. Though why he’d want to do that, I don’t know.”