by Chris Taylor
But despite these positive physical attributes, she’d never managed to completely overcome her shyness…and drawing attention to herself with bright, bold colors had never been something she was brave enough to entertain for more than a few wistful minutes.
The mantle of confidence, strength and unquestionable authority she exuded at work was a far cry from her private self. If she’d told any of her work colleagues about her affliction, they’d have rolled around the floor with laughter, not to mention disbelief. That was one of the reasons she’d chosen her occupation. Her job as a hard-nosed IA investigator forced her to become the woman she wished she could be and she lived in the vain hope that somehow, somewhere the professional confidence would rub off into her personal life.
No one had guessed that beneath the poised, self-assured exterior she wore to work, along with the classic, tailored suits, was a woman who wasn’t even brave enough to flirt or ask a man out. She was sure it had something to do with the time way back in high school when, after weeks of agonizing, she’d finally found the courage to ask the boy of her dreams if he’d like to go to the library with her after school.
The humiliation of his emphatic ‘No’ and his subsequent retelling of the encounter to all of his friends had lived with her for many years and, if she were truly honest, even now, the memory of it still left her embarrassed.
Her glance fell on the snatch of hot pink silk that peeked out from underneath a shoebox on the top shelf of her closet, but then quickly skittered away. Today wasn’t the day to trial bravado. She’d been up most of the night reading over the file of Federal Agent Declan Munro and was scheduled to interview him later that morning.
The allegations were serious—much too serious for a frilly, form-fitting, hot-pink blouse—even if it was teamed with a sensible, tailored navy skirt and matching jacket.
With a sigh, she reached for the nearest pastel blouse and pulled it off the hanger.
* * *
Chloe glanced at her watch and wiped slightly damp palms down the sides of her skirt. The bare walls of the interview room suddenly seemed too close. She always got nervous right before a major interview, especially one involving such serious misconduct. Even when it was being conducted on her turf, the nerves still set in.
She’d obtained a photograph of Declan Munro from the AFP’s personnel office and the image of the man with sparkling green-flecked brown eyes and a broad, cheeky smile looked better suited to a glossy magazine model than a sexual predator, but she’d learned the hard way not to be taken in by someone’s more-than-pleasing looks and she was determined not to make the same mistake again.
A short rap on the closed door of the interview room interrupted her thoughts. Looking up, she caught the brief flash of light brown hair through the small square of clear viewing glass on the door. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Remaining seated, she called for him to enter.
Her first thought was that his photo hadn’t done him justice. His hair was flecked with lighter pieces of gold. It was thick and wavy and looked ruffled in a sexy, straight-from-the-bedroom kind of way. A bold, lime-green tie, liberally embellished with navy and silver polka dots, eclipsed a well-cut navy suit and dazzling white business shirt. The fabric looked expensive, but the colors weren’t for the faint hearted.
Then he smiled. Open, warm, honest. Her heart skipped a beat and then hammered against her chest. In the flesh, Declan Munro was more than she imagined. He was beautiful. And incredibly tall.
He reminded Chloe of an athlete—all tanned, taut skin and long, athletic limbs. Even under his suit, his body looked hard.
She swallowed and then blinked, turning her attention to the hand that had been extended in her direction. Pushing away from the desk, she stood and returned his handshake. Her hand was engulfed in a warm, firm grip.
“I’m Federal Agent Declan Munro. I take it you’re from IA?”
Retrieving her hand with undue haste, Chloe swiped at an errant strand of hair that had come loose from the sensible bun at the nape of her neck and tried to regain her composure.
“Senior Investigator Sabattini. And yes, I’m from IA. Th-thank you for coming in.”
A gleam of surprised amusement lit up the green-brown of his eyes and sent her pulse skyrocketing. Heat flooded her face. Flustered, she turned away.
Get a grip, Chloe. So what if he’s as good looking as… Her mind was in such a muddle, she couldn’t even come up with an acceptable comparison.
Not that it was important. His looks were irrelevant, along with his expensive clothes. He was being investigated for accessing online child pornography. Nothing else mattered.
The thought sobered her. She regained her seat and opened the file on the desk in front of her and indicated for him to sit down opposite in the single remaining chair.
“I take it you know why you’re here?”
His smile evaporated and his eyes narrowed. “Oh, I know all right. I know it’s bullshit. Whatever you have in there,” he pointed toward the file in her hands, “is total bullshit.”
Chloe was used to anger. The offenders she interviewed usually cycled through an arsenal of emotions: shock, anger, disbelief, denial, guilt, remorse and sometimes back to anger again. It wasn’t easy to get them to admit to their guilt, but she prided herself on having a knack for getting to the heart of a suspect.
Most of the time, deep down, they weren’t bad people. After all, they’d gone into the AFP for noble reasons, wanting to serve and protect their community. It was just that somewhere along the way, things veered off course.
It helped her to think of it like this. Somehow, it made her job more bearable. She also wholeheartedly believed in the justice system that presumed a man innocent until he was proven guilty. It was this belief that helped her do what had to be done. After all, the ultimate decision about guilt or innocence lay with the courts.
Ignoring his outburst, she kept her expression neutral and tugged the blank legal pad and pen toward her.
“I need to ask you a few questions, Agent Munro, and I’d like you to answer them honestly. I’m sure you understand that when an allegation such as this is made, it must be thoroughly investigated. However, I’d like to remind you, this is an investigation, not an interrogation. Who knows? If you answer the questions to my satisfaction, this whole thing may not go any further.”
He stared at her. Dragging her gaze away, she concentrated on the pad in front of her. “Do you agree to answer my questions, Agent Munro?”
The earlier glimmer of amusement was long gone. His lips tightened and his expression turned hard. “It’s not like I have any choice.”
“Of course you do. You have the right to seek legal representation and you are entitled to have your lawyer present during this interview.” Chloe looked up from the notepad in front of her and caught his gaze. Green-flecked eyes stared back at her unflinchingly.
“Would you like to speak to a lawyer, Agent Munro?”
“No. I have nothing to hide. Ask your questions. Let’s get this bullshit over with.”
The anger in his voice was reflected in his eyes. Chloe held his gaze a few seconds longer, searching for signs of insincerity. So far, she’d been unable to detect even the slightest hesitation.
Still, the evidence was there in her file. She needed to get past the fact he was gorgeous and get on with her job—digging to get to the truth.
She nodded. “All right, let’s get on with it. Try to keep in mind that if you provide me with honest answers, we’ll get to the bottom of this very quickly. Tell me lies and it will take longer. Either way, I’ll find out the truth eventually. It’s your choice.”
He eyeballed her again and she forced herself to remain unmoved. “I’m obliged to tell you this interview will be recorded.” She reached for the remote control that lay on the desk and pointed it in the direction of the video recorder that was fixed to a shelf in the corner opposite to where they sat. High above it, hung a camera.
“For the sake of the video,” she continued, “I will introduce both of us. My name is Senior Investigator Sabattini and I have with me Federal Agent Declan Munro.” After confirming the time and the date, Chloe turned to him.
“Agent Munro, is your full name Declan Andrew Munro and do you live at 9-338 Jonas Road, Kingston Foreshore?”
The man seated opposite her gave a brisk nod.
“I’m sorry, Agent Munro, I must have a verbal response from you.”
“Yes, that’s my name and my address.”
“That’s a nice part of town, Agent Munro. Do you rent or own there?”
“Not that I see the relevance of your question to this interview, but I rent, Senior Investigator Sabattini.”
She failed to rise to his bait. “How old are you, Agent Munro?”
“I turned thirty-four a few weeks ago.”
Chloe hid her surprise. He held his age well. If she’d been asked to guess, she would have thought him younger, closer to her age. She filed the information away and continued.
“You’ve been requested to attend this interview for the purposes of answering questions regarding an alleged incident or incidents that occurred during the course of the week commencing August thirteenth this year.
Her eyes narrowed on his face. “Agent Munro, have you ever accessed confidential departmental computer files without proper authorization?”
His gaze remained steady on hers. “No.”
“Can you tell me what your departmental username and password is?”
His lips twisted. “I’m sure you’ve already received that information or else I wouldn’t be here. Surely, that’s what you’re hanging your hat on, isn’t it? The fact that my username and password was used to illegally access files on my computer?”
Chloe’s anger stirred, but she held it in check. “For the purposes of this interview, Agent Munro, can you please tell me your username and password?”
His face hardened. His words became clipped. “My username is declanmunro22@afp_cpu. My password is Cassie.”
Chloe dropped her gaze, ostensibly to make some notes, but her thoughts snagged on his password.
Cassie. His wife, perhaps? She forced the thought from her mind, silently castigating herself. What the hell did she care if he was married? If the allegations proved to be founded, she’d have nothing but sympathy for his unsuspecting spouse.
“Agent Munro, have you ever told anyone else your username?”
“No.”
“What about your password?”
“No.”
She glanced back up at him. “Not even your wife?”
“I don’t have a wife.”
“Girlfriend?”
“No.”
“No, you haven’t told her or no, you don’t have one?”
Irritation flared in his eyes and Chloe held her breath. The question wasn’t work related. She prayed he wouldn’t take issue with it.
She breathed a tiny sigh of relief when he shook his head and answered her, the anger easing out of his voice.
“No, Senior Investigator Sabattini, I do not have a girlfriend.”
Chloe ignored the zing of satisfaction that arced through her and concentrated on the rest of his answer.
“And even if I did,” he continued, “I wouldn’t tell her my username or password. I’ve already told you: I’ve told no one.”
Satisfied, she looked at the list of questions in front of her. “Have you ever written your username and/or your password down, either at work or at your home?”
He was already shaking his head before she finished. “No.”
“You’re sure?”
His eyes bored into hers. “I’m sure.”
“Then, Agent Munro, how do you explain how your username and password were used to access files from four different investigations over the course of a week, none of which you were involved in, and all containing images of child pornography? These files were not only accessed by you, but they were saved onto the hard drive of your computer.”
Chloe watched him closely. Tension returned to his body. His fists clenched and unclenched. Anger heightened the color in his cheeks—or was it guilt?
He looked at her, his eyes like flint. “Anyone could have done that. I’m only there for one shift a day. There is at least one other shift and sometimes two, every day, where someone else has access to my computer. You know that.”
Chloe returned his stare. “Of course, I do. But that doesn’t explain how they got hold of your username and password. You’ve already told me no one else knew it.”
“So, they must have stolen it.” His large frame moved restlessly in the chair. He ran a hand through his hair and tugged at the thick strands.
Chloe refused to be moved by his frustration, no matter how genuine it appeared.
“Usernames and passwords are issued out of the Home Affairs Office on the day you’re entered into their system as an AFP employee. Are you seriously accusing a staff member in that office of stealing your details, sneaking into your squad room unnoticed, accessing files and saving them to a computer—I’m guessing one of about twenty or so in your squad room—that you just happen to use?” She shook her head. “Even I can’t stretch my imagination that far.”
Declan’s shoulders slumped on a heavy sigh. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk, his head in his hands.
Chloe’s pulse quickened. He was going to confess. Feeling equal amounts of satisfaction and disappointment, she braced herself with her pen poised.
“You don’t have to tell me how bad it looks, Senior Investigator Sabattini. All I know for sure is, it wasn’t me.” His words were muffled beneath his fingers.
“I’m sorry, Agent Munro, do you mind repeating that?”
He looked up and captured her gaze, his eyes imploring hers. “I said it wasn’t me.”
Compassion stirred inside her. She wanted to believe him. He looked so genuine, so honest, so…lost—like he didn’t know what to do next. She cleared her throat and tried to regain her professional demeanor.
“Agent Munro, I’ve read your file. You had a long and impressive career with the New South Wales Police Service before you relocated to Canberra. I’m curious: Why did you transfer to the AFP, and more particularly, to the CPU?”
Long moments passed. She didn’t think he was going to answer. When he did speak, his voice was pitched low.
“I transferred because of Cassie. My niece.”
His niece.
Heat suffused Chloe’s cheeks. She cursed under her breath. Damn her overactive imagination and damn her for caring that Carrie wasn’t what she’d assumed.
She strove to keep her voice neutral. “What about your niece?”
Declan looked away, as if gathering his thoughts. Finally, he turned back to face her.
“It happened a little over a year ago. My niece was kidnapped and assaulted by a pedophile in Sydney. I was a State copper at the time. I assisted the AFP taskforce and helped capture him.”
Chloe’s eyebrows rose in surprise. It was the last thing she’d expected him to say and while his tone had remained flat and unemotional throughout his recital, she could well imagine how traumatic it had been for everyone involved.
As if he could read her thoughts, he spoke again. “I know what you’re thinking. And the answer is, yes. It was one of the toughest cases I’d been involved in, probably more so because of my personal connection. I freely admit it did my head in for a good while afterwards. I was beyond furious at the sick fu—” He looked away. A flush stained his cheeks. “I mean, the sick men—and let’s face it, it’s usually men—who get off on little kids. I couldn’t even get past the thought of it and then to have the evilness of it touch someone so close to me—it messed me up a bit. I took stress leave and attended counseling. I was halfway through my fifth session when I realized what I had to do. I had to go after them. Every last one of them.”
Chloe stared at him, trying to gauge his si
ncerity. “There’s no mention of any of this in your file.”
Declan blew out his breath on a sigh. “I don’t know what it says in there.” He pointed to the file open on her desk. “But I told the powers that be when they interviewed me. I told them everything—about Cassie and what happened afterwards—but it didn’t matter to them. My record as a senior State detective spoke for itself. As did the reputation of my brothers.” He tossed her a wry grin. “I’m sure having two brothers with stellar careers in the AFP didn’t harm my chances.”
Chloe frowned in thought. She recalled reading about Clayton and Brandon Munro in Declan’s personnel file. Clayton was a hotshot profiler and had been with the AFP for years. Brandon was similarly well thought of and had spent an impressive amount of time working as an undercover operative. On top of his brothers’ achievements, Declan was the son of the first aboriginal District Court Judge to preside over a court in New South Wales. She could see how having relatives like them would improve his chances of gaining entry.
“So, that’s why you applied for the CPU? Because of what had happened to your niece?”
He nodded, his expression sobering. “Yep. I found out firsthand what it felt like to be brushed by evil. Thank Christ we caught him before he raped her. She was spared that agony, but I vowed to do all that I could to make sure assholes like that could never harm children again.”
His voice had roughened with emotion. When he looked back at her, his eyes were shadowed. A moment later, he shrugged and looked away.
“So, I transferred,” he added.
“You could have worked in similar State-based units.”
“Yep, I could have, but you guys go after the big fish, the huge pedophile rings that operate both here and overseas. I have big numbers in my sights. I want to bring down each and every one of them.”
The passion and determination in his hard gaze shivered down her spine. She believed every word he said. It was so contrary to the preliminary file of evidence in front of her that she shook her head in confusion. Was it all a front? Or was he telling the truth?
“What happens now?”
She blinked. His quiet question brought her out of her kaleidoscoping thoughts and forced her attention back to him.
