After hanging up, he rifled through his bag and removed something. He peered at it for a moment then flipped it around.
Sam squinted. “Is that cardboard?”
Kait shrugged.
Holding the item over his face, the guy spun. Sam quickly figured out it was a sign, but he couldn’t read it. “Can you get us a closer look?”
Kait clicked a few keys, and the video zoomed in to reveal the message.
Hope you enjoyed meeting Elliot, Kait.
Come and get me, if you can, before I strike again.
Before I pay you back. Before you get what you deserve.
Kait gasped, but didn’t look away. Sam kept his eyes glued to the screen, too, looking for anything to give them a lead on this man’s identity, but he seemed too shrewd to reveal his face.
He suddenly jerked the sign down, proving Sam wrong. He looked directly into the camera.
Kait lurched back, her hand flying to her mouth.
“Rhodes, I take it,” Sam said, not liking the feeling of dread building in his gut.
She nodded woodenly.
Sam studied Rhodes’s face. His eyes were wild and unfocused, his smile more of a smirk, his expression taunting. He suddenly saluted the camera. A lingering smile followed before he strutted off, his lips puckered in a whistle.
A whistle. The creep was whistling.
It took a cool and calculating person to leave that kind of message and walk calmly away. Of course, it took a sociopath to let a man die the way Marcie theorized Congdon had died. And now, they could assume the sociopath was none other than Fenton Rhodes. Just like Kait had been trying to tell all of them.
“I need to get going.” Kait pushed off the chair and handed Wally a business card. “Can you e-mail a copy of the video to me?”
Wally looked at Sam for approval.
Sam nodded. “E-mail one to me as well.”
“I’ll need a ride back to my car,” Kait said evenly, and headed out the door.
Baffled, Sam followed. If he’d just gotten confirmation that a relative had likely committed a heinous crime like this, and then threatened him or someone close to him, he’d be railing or slamming things. Not taking a stoical walk to the elevator.
Sam joined her. “Why don’t I take you to pick Lily up and drive you both home?”
“I’m fine on my own, Sam.” She calmly pressed the button.
“Still, I’d like to be sure Rhodes isn’t waiting there for you.”
“We’ve seen no signs that he wants to physically harm me.” Her voice was strong and assured, but her expression didn’t carry the same message.
“His eyes in the video were glassy. He’s unbalanced. Plus, he clearly threatened you, and there’s no telling what he might do.”
She took a deep breath and stabbed the button a few more times. “If I’m vigilant, I’ll be fine.”
“Then think about Lily.”
She whipped her head around to look at him, her expression a mix of surprise and hurt, but Sam wouldn’t be deterred.
“You don’t want to risk exposing her to Rhodes, do you?” he continued.
Her shoulders sagged. Gone was the perfect posture. Gone was the self-assurance. Sam had won. She would let him escort her home. But at what cost?
KAIT CLOSED LILY’S bedroom door and stopped into her own room to retrieve her gun from the bedside safe. She wouldn’t carry while Lily was awake, but even if Sam hadn’t followed them home and waited while she confirmed her home was secure, the feral look in Fenton’s eyes would urge her to take extra precautions now.
In the kitchen, she checked the patio lock one more time. Twisting. Tugging. Looking out into the darkness of night. Wondering if he was watching.
“Get a grip,” she warned herself, and checked the deadbolt in the family room—just to be sure—then started picking up toys. She tossed them into the basket, the crack of blocks hitting each other reminding her of Lily. Of positive thoughts. Her mind drifted back to Sam’s protective behavior. She was a tough agent and didn’t appreciate the way he’d treated her like a victim needing to be watched. But the woman in her? She appreciated his concern. And it was the woman who seemed to be winning where Sam Murdock was concerned.
The woman had almost invited him in for dinner. The agent fought it and sent him on his way. Like it had done much good. He’d been on her mind since then, and nothing, not even Fenton’s threats, had managed to displace Sam for long. What was it about him that captivated her so? He was attractive, sure. But she’d run into her share of good-looking men the last few years. Not a one had stuck with her. She’d forgotten about them as fast as she’d met them. So why Sam?
Her phone rang, and, thankful for the interruption in her thoughts, she looked at the screen. Becca’s icon popped up, and Kait eagerly grabbed the phone. “Bex. How’d your speech go?”
“Perfect, if I do say so myself.” Becca laughed, but it rang false.
She was trying to downplay her contribution to CASA to keep people from commending her tireless work on behalf of children. She rarely relaxed, never let her guard down, and always had a cause to champion. A child to defend. She was trying to make up for her foster sister’s disappearance. Molly had never been found, and Becca took the blame. She’d introduced her to the chat room where she’d met the lowlife who was suspected of abducting her. Becca couldn’t help Molly, so Becca worked tirelessly on behalf of other children to atone for it. No matter Nina and Kait’s attempt to help Becca let go of the guilt, she clung to it.
Like you’re clinging to blame for Abby?
“So what’s happening with the investigation?” Becca asked.
Kait continued to pick up toys as she relayed Marcie’s discovery and described the video of Fenton. “Of course, with this concrete proof of Fenton’s involvement, I called Sulyard the minute I got home.”
“And let me guess,” Becca’s voice was loaded with skepticism. “He didn’t believe you until he actually saw the video?”
“Exactly.” Kait grabbed the last few Duplos and threw them into the bucket a little harder than necessary to relieve her frustration with Sulyard. “But after watching it, he agreed Fenton’s our guy and phoned Sam’s lieutenant. They convened a task force to work the murder. We meet first thing in the morning.”
“We? Really? You mean Sulyard’s actually letting you work the case? With your personal connection, I thought he’d keep you benched.”
“He says my insight into Fenton is invaluable to the team, so I can consult.” Kait rolled her eyes though no one was there to see it. “Whatever that means. Nina will take lead.”
“Well, that’s good news,” Becca said, trying to put the best spin on things as usual. “She has your back. Can’t say that about everyone else in the office. Plus, even if you can’t play an active role, you’ll be kept in the loop on the investigation.”
“Agreed.” Kait stowed the bucket on a small cubby shelf and dropped onto the sofa.
“But?”
“But what?”
“I hear a but in your voice.”
“But,”—Kait tried to settle into the sofa, shifting and pushing against the plush pillows to get comfortable—“I want first hand access to all the files, which you know only supervisors on the team will have.”
Becca snorted. “A supervisor? You’re hoping Sulyard will make you a supervisor?”
“He could.”
“Hah! If you think you can convince him of that, you’ve gone off the deep end, my friend.”
Becca’s logic was right on track, but Kait had to try. For Abby. “I’ll do my best to convince him.”
“It’ll take a miracle.”
“I have plenty of time to come up with a solid argument before the meeting tomorrow.” Too antsy to sit, Kait got up and
stared at her wall of paint samples. “Plus I have lots of mindless painting to do, where you know I do my best work.”
“Well good luck with coming up with something.” Becca’s tone said Kait had a snowball’s chance in hell of getting Sulyard to agree. “Just be careful you don’t tick him off, or he won’t let you participate at all.”
A sliver of apprehension wormed its way to the surface, but Kait tamped it down. “I get that it’s a risk to talk to him. If this wasn’t about Abby, I might not, but you know I’ll do everything humanly possible to fulfill my promise.”
“That’s what has me worried, Kait,” Becca said sadly. “You’ve got to think things through instead of letting your feelings control you.”
“I wish I could be more like you and plan things out, but that won’t work with Fenton. I’m going to have to take risks to bring him in.”
“I get that you think my ways are rigid, but they work.” Becca paused, silence filling the phone. “Take a minute to step back from this and analyze your steps. You’ll see the risk in talking to Sulyard is greater than the possible reward.”
Becca often offered solid advice, and Kait appreciated it. She just couldn’t think logically about Fenton. Not after he’d killed her sister. Her steps were driven purely by need. Deep, unsettling need. Becca understood these driving emotions when it came to her causes, but often couldn’t comprehend the same need in others.
Time to move on, before they argued. “So tell me more about the conference.”
A long sigh filtered through the phone, but Kait waited it out. Becca began describing her day, but soon had to go. “Please reconsider your talk with Sulyard, okay?”
“I will,” Kait promised before saying goodbye.
She shoved her phone into her pocket and headed down the hallway to get started on her painting. At least she didn’t have to spend the night reviewing files to find a suspect with a medical background. Fenton took care of her need to do that, just like he’d taken care of stealing her peace. So painting would fill her time and help her regain some semblance of calm. At least, she hoped it would.
She stepped into the garage to gather her paint supplies, the crisp evening air invigorating her. She stirred the paint delivered by a local hardware store and cleared her mind of everything but the thoughts of a fresh start in her family room. The subtle gray of Empire Porcelain, which she’d chosen over Matrix and Twilight, swirled together. She stood back and looked at it. Light. Maybe too light. Lighter than she usually chose, and Twilight would have reflected her tastes better.
Maybe it was a sign that she wanted to lighten up her life.
Hah! Now she’d taken her painting to extremes, assigning importance to the color that it clearly didn’t have. She gathered her well-used brushes plus drop cloth and roller, putting everything into a tote so she could carry it and the paint in one trip. As she took the stairs to the house, headlights swung into her driveway and shimmered under her garage door.
Fenton?
A frisson of fear shot through her.
No. He wouldn’t pull into her driveway, headlights blazing. Still, she was Lily’s protector and wouldn’t take any chances. She rushed inside and peeked out the peephole. Nina climbed from her Mazda, the hood of a blue slicker covering her hair as she hurried through the rain to the passenger door.
Kait exhaled the fear tightening her chest. She settled her supplies on the canvas drop cloth covered in bright splotches of pink and orange from painting Lily’s room, before opening the door.
Nina turned, holding out a box. “I could use your help.”
Kait slipped into her Birkenstock clogs and jogged to the car, rain instantly dampening her T-shirt and chilling her skin. She grabbed the box, and the warm scent of Nina’s famous peach cobbler rose up to meet her. She ran back inside and heard Nina’s ever-present heels clipping along behind.
In the kitchen, Kait opened the box and found the perfectly browned cobbler with tips of luscious peaches breaking through. Next to it sat one of Kait’s favorite southern treats—a bowl of saltine crackers soaked overnight in oil with ranch dressing and spices.
“Firecrackers.” Kait popped one in her mouth and moaned over the crispy, salty flavor.
Nina set the wine on the table and tsked. “You’re painting. Not a good sign.”
“How’d you know?”
“Your hands.” She pointed at gray blobs already tipping several of Kait’s fingers. “I never understood how such a fastidious person could be such a messy painter.”
Kait turned to the sink to wash her hands. “And I never understood how a woman who looks so put together could be so disorganized.”
“Honey, my Grandmother Hale and mama may have drilled into me never to go out in public without my best face on,” Nina paused to push off her hood and run a hand over her hair, smoothing the soft curls, “but they were fine with my messes as long as I kept them behind closed doors. Which I do. Most of the time, anyway.”
Kait grabbed another cracker that she lovingly called crack, as she suspected they were as addictive as the drug. “I’m just thankful you haven’t taken it as far as putting on lipstick before making an arrest.”
“At least not that you know of.” Nina winked and picked up the corkscrew.
Kait lifted the still-warm cobbler from the box and grabbed plates while Nina uncorked a bottle of Shiraz Cabernet. She kicked off her heels and climbed onto a barstool, swirling her glass and staring into it.
“You doing okay?” Kait asked.
Nina shrugged.
Kait sat next to her. “Talk to me. It’ll help.”
“I’m not sure that’s true.” She took a long sip of her wine. “Nothing’s changed. Quinn’s still charging off to God knows where, doing God knows what. And I can’t handle not knowing where he is and if he’s all right.”
“And you don’t think he has any intention of settling into a more stable job?”
“We haven’t talked about it since our last big fight, but he’s still a SEAL, so what do you think?” Tears glistened in her eyes, and she shook her head. “Still hurts that he chose the team over me.”
Kait hated to upset her friend more, but she couldn’t let her put this spin on the breakup. “You know it’s not that cut and dried, sweetie. He really didn’t choose the team.”
“Right,” she said. “He just chose to do nothing, so I had to act.”
“Maybe it would be better to remember that if you hadn’t walked away, he’d still be with you.”
“How will that help?” she snapped. “It’s not like I can change how I feel. Mama made sure of that after Daddy took us rafting, and Garrett died.”
Nina sipped her wine and stared off into the distance. Kait knew Nina was reliving growing up with a mother who let her fear of losing another child control their lives. She’d monitored Nina’s every move, keeping her home and warning her to be careful every time she went out, making her afraid to do anything. She’d finally revolted and went away to college and, even then, she’d had to struggle to separate herself from her mother’s fears. Nina was better now, as long as she could stay in control, but running into Quinn today brought back all the issues.
All this pain was because of Fenton. He was hurting people Kait cared about, and his threats were escalating.
Take a minute to step back from this and analyze your steps. You’ll see the risks with talking to Sulyard are greater than the possible reward. Becca’s words came back to Kait. Becca was right. She couldn’t let her emotions get in the way and cloud her judgment. She’d accept Sulyard’s decision and not risk her place on the team. They needed her. Without her intimate knowledge of Fenton, he would get the best of them and go free. Something Kait could never let happen.
Chapter Twelve
A LOUSY TASK FORCE.
Sam didn’t wan
t to work his case with a big team. It meant endless reports and meetings instead of nose to the grindstone investigating, but he couldn’t turn down the FBI’s vast resources. That, and the fact his lieutenant gave him no choice, put him in the FBI conference room for the eight a.m. briefing, one of the many status meetings that would occur daily until Rhodes was caught.
Waiting for the rest of his team to arrive, Sam took a good look at the closest of three whiteboards. Someone had jotted Elliot Congdon’s name across the top, then sketched a schematic of the murder scene and other neighborhood homes, leaving space for notes from the police canvass of the area. They’d also left metallic clips for crime scene photos and designated a spot to list suspects.
There would be no reason to create a murder board unless they were planning to get involved in the murder investigation. Could mean their promise of a cooperative intra-agency team was all talk. Not unexpected. Working with feds was unpredictable. Just like cops, some wanted to work together, others could get pushy and territorial. Sam could deal with either one, but this case was centered on electronic technology, already putting Sam’s team at a disadvantage. Then there was the FBI’s past knowledge of Rhodes’s criminal activities that Sam hadn’t been privy to.
He crossed to another whiteboard holding the name Vadik Kozlov, the hacker Rhodes had killed three years ago. Sam flipped through crime scene photos. He cringed at the gruesome scene. As Kait had mentioned, Kozlov had been shot execution style in the back of the head, his brains splattered around the room filled with computer equipment. Nothing like Congdon’s murder, save the computer equipment.
A list of Rhodes’s known associates and their online nicknames had been jotted below. An empty column remained to note people linked to Congdon as the investigation progressed. Sam didn’t have a clue how to navigate the cyber world to look into these associations. That would be Nina and Kait’s job. He suspected they’d work with the group of excited geeks sitting at the table and speaking in a language only someone with a computer degree could understand, while he’d be boots on the ground tracking down local leads.
Web of Deceit Page 11
