Body of Evidence (Evidence Series)

by Rachel Grant

  She’d been in Atlantic City since Tuesday night and planned to give Jeannie a few more days before she would drive two hundred miles away and try Twitter again.

  Two and a half years ago, before Evan, before indictments, before Raptor had so thoroughly infiltrated JPAC, Mara had flown to DC to visit her uncle at the same time Jeannie had flown to New York to visit her hometown. At the end of their respective visits, they’d met up in Atlantic City for a girl’s weekend. Mara had never been into gambling. Casinos were Jeannie’s thing—and now, Mara realized, her brother Eric’s as well—but Mara had enjoyed the in-house spa while Jeannie parked herself in front of a slot machine and tapped the electronic buttons to her heart’s content.

  On the second night of their long weekend, Mara found Jeannie in the back corner, feeding a quarter slot machine. Ready to leave for dinner, Jeannie hit the button one last time. Symbols lined up, and she won the jackpot. Nothing life-changing, but the four-hundred-dollar payout bought dinner that night and was the highlight of an enjoyable weekend.

  Mara knew Jeannie would understand her cryptic Twitter direct message. If Jeannie read it and wanted to see her, she’d know to find Mara in the same corner of the casino where she hit the jackpot. Mara went to the casino every day and waited, sometimes for five minutes, and sometimes for hours.

  Jeannie would show up. She had to. Her brother was dead, she was on the run, and she probably had as many questions as she had answers. If nothing else, Mara would drag her ass to DC so she could tell the Departments of State and Homeland Security what had happened in North Korea and Curt could get his search warrants for Raptor facilities.

  But to do that, she needed to find Jeannie, without making it easy for Raptor to find her. She’d head back to the casino in an hour, but for now, all she wanted to do was flop on the bed and watch the news.

  She flipped through the cable news channels, looking for stories about Curt so she could see his face even though the thought of calling him made her blush. She’d had phone sex with the man, but she was the only one who’d gotten off.

  She was being such a girl, with her day-after doubts, but still couldn’t help but worry—what if when she saw him again, the wonderful man who’d taken her on several dates and courted her with such ardor on the phone turned back into the ruthless prosecutor?

  His picture flashed on the screen, followed by a photo of her uncle. The reporter said her uncle’s defense was falling apart and laid odds Uncle Andrew would opt to take the stand on Monday because he was certain to lose otherwise.

  There were exactly two men alive who mattered to her: an uncle she adored and a hero she was falling in love with. But one’s success meant the other’s destruction. There could be no happy ending for both.

  The phone rang, and in spite of her mixed feelings, she lunged for it. Her days were filled with tawdry casinos and dingy motels. Curt and their imaginary relationship was her sole escape from the depressing landscape.

  “Hi, Gorgeous. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. Today has been nuts.”

  His warm tone sent quivers straight to her crotch. “It’s okay. I didn’t expect to hear from you until tonight.”

  “I’ve been thinking about you.” His voice deepened and became suggestive. “All day.”

  Her heart went into overdrive. “I’ve been thinking about you too.”

  “Good. Mara, the trial will wrap soon. Another few days and it’s done. Raptor might step up efforts to find you after the trial, expecting you to make a move. I want you to come to DC.”

  The suggestion startled her. “You mean now?”

  “Yes. They won’t expect it. They won’t be looking for you here.”

  “But why DC? I could go anywhere.” And I need to find Jeannie.

  “Because I’m here.” He paused. “And it’s time for you to come forward. I need you to tell the secretary of state about the smallpox.”

  She pursed her lips and debated her options. Finally, she said, “I went to see an epidemiologist. I’ve got blood-test results. You can prove I had smallpox without me being there.”

  Tension and more than a little anger entered his voice. “You did what?”

  “I saw an epidemiologist. He’s someone I know, from Michigan. He was safe. He ran a blood test and found antibodies—or something like that—that proves I had smallpox.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?”

  She frowned. “Because I knew you’d be upset.”

  “With good reason. Jesus, Mara. What sort of risks are you taking? You’re supposed to be sitting tight in the lakeside cottage and staying safe.”

  She bristled at his tone. “But you just asked me to go to DC. How is that playing it safe?”

  “At least here I can protect you!” His voice rose with every word. “And any blood test you had wouldn’t be valid in a court of law without a clean chain-of-evidence.”

  “So what? You can use it to get a search warrant. How about thanking me instead of yelling at me?”

  “I’m not—” His words broke off.

  “Yes. You are,” she said softly.

  He huffed out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. You’re right. But, Mara, I’m scared to death for you. I hate it that you’re hundreds of miles away and I can’t watch over you. I want you here. With me.”

  She closed her eyes. She wanted more than anything to go to DC, to see him, to feel like she could have some semblance of a life. “I’m afraid. The risk would be so high in DC. I’d be trapped indoors.”

  His voice turned Barry White–deep. “You’ll be trapped with me.”

  “Sounds like a booty call to me.”

  “Bonus.”

  She laughed, but tension still coiled through her. “I’m not sure, Curt.”

  “Give it a day. Think about it.”

  “Do we still have a date tonight?”

  “Of course. I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”

  Afraid he’d reject her if she didn’t give him what he wanted, a torrent of emotion flooded her at hearing the warmth in his voice. She’d been with manipulative Evan just long enough to rattle her confidence when it came to relationships. She closed her eyes and gripped the phone in a tight fist. She didn’t speak until she was certain she could keep her heart out of her voice. “What do you have planned?”

  “I was thinking we’d go to your hotel room. Or my place. We’ll get takeout and eat in.”

  “And fool around?”

  “It’s like you read my mind.” She could hear the smile in his tone.

  She sighed and spoke the truth that had been nagging at her all day. “It’s not like this is real, Curt.”

  “Mara, this is more real than any relationship I’ve ever had. The dates are pretend, but the connection? It’s genuine.” He paused. “You’ve turned my world upside down. Just talking to you on the phone wakes something inside me that’s never been there before. I’m ass-over-teakettle, sweetheart.”

  Guilt swamped her. How would he react when he realized she’d been lying to him? That she hadn’t told him—or anyone—Evan’s last words. She’d withheld information from the FBI to protect Jeannie. “Dammit, Curt. Every time I manage to convince myself I’m only falling for you because you’re my incredible-savior-superhero, you go and say something like that and give me hope this is real. And you know what I hate? Hope. It’s a fucking four-letter word.” And I can’t afford to hope when no matter what I do, someone I care about will suffer.

  His soft chuckle carried across the line.

  “It’s not funny. Hope has brought me nothing but pain and disappointment.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, I’m not laughing at you. I’m relieved. Your moment of silence after I told you how I feel scared the hell out of me.”

  He feels insecure too? She cradled the phone, pressing it with painful intensity against her ear. “What are we going to do?”

  “Come to DC, we’ll figure it out from here.”

  She couldn’t. Not yet. “I don’t know, Curt
. I need to think.”

  “Don’t think about it too long.”

  “I’ll have a decision for you tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” He sighed, and a long silence ensued. Finally, he said, “Mara, I’m falling in love with you.”

  LEE SCOTT SHOWED up at Curt’s Georgetown condo at eight on Sunday morning. Curt answered the door armored in his version of casual Sunday attire—a business suit minus the jacket and tie. He raised a curious eyebrow at Lee’s uncharacteristically early arrival, then stepped back to allow him to enter. “Did you get in a fight with Erica or something?”

  Lee shook his head. “Get your coat. If you have coffee made, fill two travel mugs. We’ve got to leave. Now. My car is gassed up and ready to go.”

  “I’ve got coffee. Come in and tell me what the hell is going on.”

  In the kitchen, Lee wasn’t surprised to see a Sunday morning political news program on the television. He turned the set off. He needed Curt’s undivided attention.

  Curt poured coffee. “Where are we going?”

  “We need to be in Atlantic City before noon.” Lee’s gaze cut to the clock, and adrenaline shot through him. Four hours. Without traffic, they might be early.

  “Why?”

  There was no way to soften this news. “Mara is not in Michigan. She’s in Atlantic City, trying to find Jeannie Fuller. An hour ago, via Twitter, Jeannie sent a direct message to Mara saying she’d meet her at noon today.”

  AN HOUR LATER, with DC thirty miles behind them, Curt still found it difficult to breathe. Of all the crazy, foolish, idiotic, dangerous things to do. Mara was about to rendezvous with Jeannie, a woman who had sold her out once already and later left her own brother to die at the hands of Evan Beck.

  What was she thinking?

  More curses ran through his mind. How many times was he going to drop everything to save Mara from a firing squad? Because sure as hell meeting with Jeannie was even more dangerous than the damn North Koreans.

  Thank God he’d asked Lee to put his hacking skills to work on finding her after their conversation yesterday. He didn’t want to know how Lee had done it or what laws he’d broken. All he wanted was Mara safe.

  So he could throttle her.

  Curt drove far too fast and prayed he wouldn’t have to explain himself to police, while Lee had his computer open on his lap in the passenger seat, tracking Mara’s movements when her phone checked in with cellular antennas.

  “You promise Raptor can’t do the same thing?” Curt asked.

  “Aside from the fact that they don’t have her number, I’ve also secured her signal. I can get around it, because I’m the one who encrypted it. But Raptor can’t hack a phone that doesn’t show up during their scans, and her signal is invisible to everyone but me.”

  Curt frowned and kept his eyes on the road ahead. “Don’t tell me any more.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s mostly legal.”

  Yeah, it was the “mostly” part that worried him. He turned up the radio and said, “I can’t hear you.”

  Lee tapped away at his keyboard. A minute later, he said, “Her phone has checked in with the same antenna for the last hour, and it’s not near any casinos. We don’t have to worry unless Mara heads to a casino before noon.”

  “If you’re right about the meeting place being a casino.” Oh Jesus. What if Lee was wrong? Don’t think about it. Just drive. “Where is she now?”

  “From the map, it looks like she’s outside the casino district.”

  “That fits for the kind of motel she’d choose. She’ll find a place that doesn’t bat an eye at cash and won’t check ID.” The thought of Mara exposing herself in Atlantic City, when Raptor’s base of operations was only four hours away, sent his blood pressure through the roof. And for Jeannie, of all people. “Any action on Mara’s Twitter account?”

  “Since you asked fifteen minutes ago? No. She hasn’t logged in to Twitter in a week. She doesn’t know Jeannie plans to meet her today.”

  “If it’s Jeannie who responded.”

  “Yes. If.”

  “Has Jeannie gone onto Twitter again?”

  “Also no.” Lee closed the laptop. “Curt, when are you going to be honest with me?”

  He stiffened. “What do you mean?”

  “Mara is more than just a witness. You care about her.”

  “I do. But until the trial is over, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “Are you going to tell her you want her to testify?”

  Curt tightened his grip on the steering wheel and fixed his gaze on the road ahead. He hated what he had to do but couldn’t see any way around it. She would be a rebuttal witness. He didn’t have a subpoena anymore, and couldn’t get one until Stevens said something she could rebut. So if he told her, and she fled… He didn’t even want to consider that possibility.

  Lee must have guessed what his silence meant, because he said, “Do you have any idea what this will do to her? You’re going to fuck over any chance of a relationship with her for your trial.”

  “Her uncle is a traitor to his own country. He has to pay.”

  “You and Mara will end up paying too.”

  “You think I like this? This isn’t my first choice. Not by a long shot. But I can’t only pursue justice when it’s convenient for my love life, and if I don’t get Mara on the stand, Stevens and Beck will go on with their dirty deals. People will die. Hell, I’m fairly certain Beck’s got big plans for his new smallpox toy. Stopping him is bigger than me or my desire for a relationship with Mara. And, if after seeing the evidence against her uncle, Mara still worships the man, well then”—a wave of regret rolled through him—“she’s not the woman for me.”

  Lee’s laugh held no humor. “Man, you are so fucked. Either way.”

  “Yeah. Tell me something I don’t know.”

  AT ELEVEN FORTY-FIVE, Mara walked by the slots as if she were heading to the restaurant on the other side, scanning faces and alert for anyone noticing her. But the off-season patrons all held the blank stares of habitual gamblers. The flashing lights of the loud machines had a lock on their attention, blocking everything else.

  She entered the restaurant and scanned the crowd. Her heart leapt at the sight of a woman at the buffet who was the right height and build. She crossed the room to the food line, only to be disappointed when the woman twisted and Mara caught a glimpse of her profile. Not Jeannie.

  Curt had told her Jeannie withdrew twenty-five thousand dollars from her bank account before fleeing Oahu two weeks ago. With that kind of money, she could hide for a while—far longer than Mara, whose reserves were rapidly dwindling. With the right connections, Jeannie could buy an ID and credit card. She could build a new identity. She could travel with ease and purchase plane tickets on commercial airlines. She could distance herself from her brother’s grisly murder.

  Jeannie’s face hadn’t been on the news as Mara’s had. She was safely anonymous. But she must have questions about her brother. She must realize Mara was her only hope if she were ever to come out of hiding.

  Dammit. Jeannie should have shown up by now. This was Mara’s seventh day in Atlantic City. The casino staff was starting to notice her. Maybe it was time to give up.

  She could go to DC and enlist Curt’s help. His friend Lee could monitor her Twitter account and let her know if Jeannie responded.

  But Curt would flip. He’d be livid and, worse, hurt that she hadn’t confided in him. She did a mental headshake as she stepped back out onto the main casino floor. One more day. She could give Jeannie one more day.

  She crossed the card room floor. Next she’d swing by the pool and arcade, then the spa. Anything to kill time and give Jeannie a chance to show up, without leaving Mara a sitting duck in the back of the casino. The damn building didn’t have enough exits for her liking.

  Her cell phone rang, and she startled.

  Curt. It had to be Curt. She plucked the phone from her pocket and answered.

  “Do you
see the man in the Aloha shirt?” Curt asked.

  Adrenaline shot through her system. She spun and saw a tall—very tall—man, young, boyish looking, leaning on a slot machine, and staring directly at her. The man waved, beckoning her toward him. In her ear, Curt said, “That’s Lee. He’s safe. Follow him.”

  “I can’t. I’m—”

  “I know exactly what you’re doing, Mara, and if you think I’m going to let you risk your life for that rotten, betraying bitch, think again. Follow Lee!” The last words were a roar.

  In spite of Lee’s imposing height, he looked safe, nonthreatening, probably due to the familiar, colorful shirt. Her feet obediently followed Curt’s shouted instructions.

  Within striking distance, Lee’s arm snaked out and gripped her shoulder. He was fast. Shockingly so. And with a reach that shouldn’t have surprised her given his height. Jesus. He was probably a foot and a half taller than her.

  “Nice to meet you, Mara,” he said and dragged her toward the front door.

  He stopped and swore, and Mara saw what halted him in the same moment. Jeannie Fuller. Entering the casino.

  Mara lurched forward, toward her friend, but the grip on her arm stopped her. Lee yanked the phone from her grasp and said, “Trouble, Curt. Meet us at the back entrance.” With Mara in tow, he spun and bolted for the rear of the casino floor.

  “Wait! I want to talk to her.”

  “Not a chance in hell,” Lee said, dragging her along.

  Mara dug in her heels and struggled against him. She twisted her arm, and amazingly, broke free. She shot forward, then skidded to a stop. Two men had entered the casino behind Jeannie. Both had the bearing of Raptor operatives.

  Jeannie had betrayed her again.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CURT SAW JEANNIE and the two goons enter the casino right before Lee shouted into the phone. He’d pulled onto the wide, twisty road that circled the casino before Lee even started speaking. They had planned for this. Lee would get her to the rear exit.

  Raptor couldn’t afford to open fire in a crowded casino. Mara had done that much right in choosing the meeting place. Now Lee and Curt had to do their part to save her.