"Here's the odd thing . . ." Distracted, Mullaney picked up a sugar packet, flipping it between his fingers. "So, the receptionist calls this morning. 'It's Monday. We haven't heard from you. Are you coming in' . . ." He tapped the packet against the table. "But Tori's second call was last night."
Shock torqued through him. Matt leaned forward."Sunday night?"
"Yeah . . . and it was like . . . 'don't know what happened to you Thursday. I haven't been able to reach you by cell . . . what happened to our meeting?' And then stuff like 'hope you got lucky . . . you can tell me all about it tomorrow'."
Finn's chair dropped. "So, she's not missing at all."
"Tori was supposed to meet her at the warehouse. Julie claimed she saw her car." His stomach dropping, he nodded to Finn. Had she made everything up? Or worse— imagined it? "We saw evidence of another vehicle."
"That could've been anyone," Finn muttered. "We assumed it was her, based on what Julie told you." He pulled out his phone. "I want the analysis on her directions. Maybe they've made some headway with the imprint." He glanced up. "It would be nice to assume she stumbled on the wrong place— but then you've got all the bodies . . . of people who work with her."
"We never found evidence of anyone else that night."
Attention swiveled to Steve Jonas. "Where you found her walking?"
"We worked a grid pattern a mile in each direction from the spot where my guys picked her up." Jonas crumpled his sandwich wrapper. "All we found were tire tracks where he sunk into the dirt— because it rained that night."
Finn glanced up. "Anything from the lab on the tire tracks?"
Mullaney sifted through a stack of papers. "A dead end. Tires were purchased in South Boston two years ago. A high school kid— he reported the car stolen last fall." The old man glanced up. "A 1994 Plymouth Sundance."
"Which is in the Duster family," Finn interjected, raising a hand as he bowed to the guys crowding the living room. "I'll be here all night, folks. Don't forget to tip your waitresses."
His expression wry, Jonas shook his head. "There were fibers matching Julie's sweater in the spot where she landed after she rolled down the hill. But nothing on the other girl."
"And nothing on Tori in the warehouse." Frowning, Finn dug out the evidence list again. "Everything left behind was Julie's."
Matt digested the consequences. Had Tori ever been there? Had Julie imagined it? Or planted the information to throw them off? "Has anyone actually checked KTec? Is Tori at work today?"
Blank looks around the room had Mullaney rolling his eyes. "For Christ's sake . . . someone find out."
"Whatever the hell is going down— it's centered around KTec." Two of Mullaney's state troopers joined the table, grabbing sandwiches from the pile.
"So, do we keep Julie missing?" Finn asked between bites. "Or wire her up and send her back in to work?"
Matt's knife-to-the-ribs response took him by surprise. It was a hell-no response. Protective. And dangerously unprofessional. But that didn't stop his gut from twisting. Because sending her into work meant pinning a target on her.
"What else have we got?" Glancing around the room, Mullaney's bushy eyebrows drew together. "If we think she's connected . . . then they're probably dismantling the operation while we sit here with thumbs up our asses."
Matt glanced up to see nodding heads. It was time to decide. Either she was part of Viper's operation and they needed to arrest her . . . or she was someone they could use to get inside KTec to look for the real deal.
"I think we need to get inside," Mullaney continued. "I vote send her."
"Can we get someone in there with her?" Logic dictated Julie reappear. Hell— even she'd be all for it. Trouble was— he no longer felt completely logical when it came to her. As long as she remained hidden— she was safe.
Finn was silent for several moments. "That'll look obvious."
"She was already working with Keyes Group," he reasoned, unwilling to give in. "They were planning a site visit."
"Maybe she made that up, too." O'Brien made a note on his phone.
"Which is why we need to confirm." He kept his expression neutral. Removing his glasses, Matt rubbed his eyes. What the hell was he doing? Trying to find a way to defend her? When every single shred of evidence pointed at her with flashing neon lights.
Sensing his tone, Finn glanced up. "Where are they located?"
"I just looked." Jonas spoke up from his perch at the kitchen island. He raised his phone. "They're in Stockbridge. You want me to run down the lead?" He checked his watch. "I'm heading in that direction."
"Thanks, that would be helpful." Mullaney met Steve's gaze, aware of the friction that had arisen over Paul's death. Despite his cranky demeanor, Sean was accustomed to finessing local politics. "Why don't you take Rusty with you?"
Mullaney scanned the room, shouting to a guy on his phone in the corner. Rusty glanced up, before making his way to the door where Jonas stood. "I'd also like you to handle the local press, if you don't mind."
Jonas' expression was one of schooled relief. He could finally appear to be somewhat in charge of the shitbomb that had hit his town. "I'd be happy to help."
Mullaney jotted a number on his pad and tore off the sheet. "Here's the trooper you need to talk with in the PR department. They'll tell you what you can say."
After they left, Mullaney finally zeroed in on Matt. "What do you have in mind for a UC role?"
"I've played a consultant a hundred times. It gives me access to every department." And he could keep an eye on Jules. Several sets of eyes bored into him as they considered his idea. The need to protect her was a weight bearing down on him— a feeling so strong, it seemed to live and breathe on its own. Something he'd never experienced before. But a decade on the job had taught him never to question a gut level instinct— even if it wasn't always rational.
"We need to get someone in there anyway," he reminded. "If Viper's on to us . . . we need to secure evidence before it's all destroyed."
"And if she's Viper?" Finn threw out the obvious question
"Then she's been out of contact for at least five days," Matt countered. "No phone calls. No means of communication. Her operation would be in total disarray."
"If she's Viper, then there's a power struggle goin' on." Mullaney reached for another sandwich. "They've already tried to kill her three times."
"And your team hasn't heard any rumors?" Finn snapped his gum methodically.
"No one's heard anything like that. And it would be big news on the street. This feels more like a house cleaning." The old man sat back in his chair, warming to his topic. "If we assume Julie saw somethin' . . . then she suddenly became disposable. If they've been using KTec as cover for the operation, then they've let her stay around— just for continuity. If it ain't broke, why fix it? But if all of a sudden, she started makin' noise about changing something-"
"The consultants." Finn jumped into the theory. "Efficiency studies. The film of the warehouse."
"So, they may not know about Keyes Group, but they know she's up to something."
"All they'd have to do is see her schedule," one of the staties piped in. "She's heading outta town. How hard would it be to set up an accident-"
Conversation awkwardly ceased when Julie re-entered the living room. Acknowledging the unnatural quiet, her too pale face slowly colored. It wouldn't take a Brown grad to know she was the topic of conversation. "I was wondering whether I could check my work email?"
"You're still missing. You can't answer any email." Matt glanced at Finn. "Not until we've reviewed it first. Then we develop a plan," he explained. "Then— maybe you get to look at it."
Her eyes sparked with fury. "Rusty was reviewing my email before he left. I can see the screen."
Rising from his chair, Matt crossed the room to the windowseat where Rusty had been working. Julie had wandered over there a few minutes earlier. He quickly eyed the screen before shutting the laptop. "You didn't think to ask permission?"
<
br /> "I just did."
"After you scrolled through everything."
Her mouth tightened as she battled to stay calm. "I didn't want to interrupt you."
Reading the annoyance in her eyes, he leaned in, his face inches from hers. "You knew you should ask," he corrected. "But you assumed I'd say 'no'."
"If we both know this— then why discuss it?"
"Do we need to go over the rules again?" Her scowl threatened murder before he turned and headed back to the table. Julie hobbled after him.
"Let me guess— you make them and I blindly follow them?"
"You're supposed to be hidden from the people trying to kill you." Tension crackling between them, stillness descended as conversations in the kitchen ceased. Mullaney hung over the breakfast bar, a stupid grin on his face as he blatantly listened.
"Hidden?" Despite her attempt at control, her eyes flashed dangerously. "You just discussed me going back to work."
"Now you're eavesdropping?" Matt's jaw tightened painfully. Finn was probably right. She'd gotten under his skin— made him want to believe her. And now, if he wasn't careful, he'd be left dangling. Looking like a colossal fool when she turned out to be the damned ringleader.
"If you bothered to explain anything, I wouldn't need to eavesdrop."
"Did you answer any email?" Why the hell had Rusty left her laptop open?
"I think it's safe to assume that in a room full of cops, I probably didn't get away with anything." Despite her anger, her smile was smug. "Let's see— I had ten messages from Jack Stephens— the guy I fired two weeks ago." She lowered her voice dramatically. "Maybe he's involved."
"Maybe he is," Matt agreed, acutely conscious of everyone listening in.
"Don't you think you're going overboard? I seriously doubt anyone is monitoring my email."
"Just like you didn't think anyone would want to kill you? Or leave dead bodies in your trunk?" Matt raked agitated fingers through his hair. "Yeah, Jules, you're batting a thousand so far."
"I'll do whatever it takes to get back," she announced to him . . . and the room. She glanced around wildly. "You want to search my warehouse? You want to go undercover— go for it." She dropped to the couch, her fatigue showing in the set of her shoulders. Nerves stretched to the breaking point, Jules was nearing the end of her rope. "I'll . . . wear a wire-"
No doubt sensing the rapid deterioration between them, Finn quickly intercepted the conversational dynamite. "Miss Kimball, we're trying to return you to Boston. But please try to cooperate."
Stuck in the middle, O'Brien was left to absorb the brunt of her desperation. And his mounting frustration— over the sense that something explosive was about to happen . . . and Matt wasn't prepared for it. The worry over her safety. He couldn't risk another person getting hurt on his watch.
"You're right." Julie's hostile expression suddenly crumpled, leaving her looking more vulnerable than he'd ever seen. She touched Finn's arm before handing him a slip of paper. "I'm sorry."
"What's this?"
" A list of KTec managers . . . their level of system access. He asked for it earlier." She avoided looking at him.
As the fire left her eyes, Matt finally noticed they were red-rimmed. She'd likely been crying in the bathroom. His chest tightened. Why the hell couldn't he have noticed that before he launched his verbal assault?
"If you don't need me for anything . . . I'm going to rest for a while."
Instead of the animation he'd grown to expect, he saw resignation. As though somewhere over the last few hours, she'd finally given up. When they'd been alone, she'd argued with him. She'd stood her ground. Now, everything had changed.
"Should I use the room I had yesterday?"
Her subdued voice disrupted his thoughts. "Yeah." Yesterday. Since she'd left the hospital, the last twenty-four hours had felt like a week. His gaze followed her as she hobbled from the room. Submissive didn't look good on her. But what did he expect? The numbers were stacked against her. Everyone— including him— was searching for her connection to Viper. Connect the dots and make an arrest.
Jules had just telegraphed the message that she knew what they were doing, too.
Glancing at the closed bedroom door, Matt tried to shake the feeling he'd let her down. Tried to ignore the suspicion he'd just lost something important. But how could that be true? She wasn't his to lose.
***
Chapter 8
Matt remained silent while Finn wrapped up a call. Knowing what was coming, he wasn't in the mood.
"You know, earlier I had trouble picturin' someone like Julie being able to cap a guy in the head." Mullaney's voice trailed off as he scratched his whiskers. "She's smart. Pretty. Soft-spoken."
"What's your point?"
His expression never changed. "She's definitely capable of shooting you."
Finn rejoined them in the kitchen. "So . . . the nickname Magic— that describes your skill with women?" He handed off the list. "She said you wanted this."
His concentration shot, Matt scanned the names. Mullaney was right. He'd roughed her up and she hadn't deserved it. Though Julie's stubbornness drove him crazy, he couldn't help admiring the dogged determination she displayed over just about everything. "We need to broaden the link analysis to include these names."
"No shit. How about I call them in while you apologize," Finn suggested.
Guilt cinched his chest a little tighter. Sure. Maybe something like 'sorry I yelled— but I've developed an off-limits sexual interest in you'. That would play well with his boss. Matt's future with the agency would be sealed— he'd have no future.
The way to fix this was to focus on the investigation. What needed to be re-examined? Sift through the facts they knew— and determine what was missing. "If she's the victim of a deliberate attack— why would Munoz leave her stuff in the warehouse? Her purse? Her ID? Why not get rid of it? Why would you leave a trail?"
Slurping his coffee, Mullaney settled in for a game of 'what if'. "Maybe Viper offed him before he had time to clean up. Crime scene guys say he was in the trunk at least ten hours. That puts time of death sometime Sunday evening . . . maybe eight to eleven pm."
Mullaney's words were troubling. If Munoz was in the trunk— then who the hell attacked them the previous night? "Matias was alive yesterday at noon," he reminded. "I saw him at the hospital." Matt tossed his glasses on the table. "What about the other guy? Griggs?"
"Don't know yet. A lot longer than Munoz."
Finn turned to him. "Do we know who owns the damned warehouse yet?"
"The records aren't computerized."
"Seriously?" The younger man drummed the table in agitation.
"It's a small town," he reminded. "Ask Jonas when he gets back. He can get it quicker than we can."
"If they felt safe— there was a reason," Mullaney insisted. "Maybe they're blowin' town. Starting over somewhere new. Think about all the evidence they left behind."
"Could be they own the warehouse," Finn speculated. "A location like that? You could operate undetected. Pay their bills; keep the noise down. By the time anyone got suspicious— they'd be long gone."
"Or maybe they felt safe because they'd set someone up to take the fall," Matt conceded. "Leave all the evidence so it points to someone else."
Mullaney scratched his head. "Munoz and Griggs gift-wrapped in her trunk for us to find."
"If time of death is accurate, then she's out for Munoz." Finn agreed.
Mullaney scowled. "I'd rather believe they got cocky than think we lost 'em. I want Viper before I retire."
"Dandridge, Lambeth, Tori." Finn reviewed the list. "An IT guy. There's a few here we haven't seen," he said. "I'll call Leo with the names." He glanced up. "You— go apologize."
Matt flopped into the armchair. The evidence against Julie was damning— but riddled with holes. Unease trickled through him. Was he being harder on her because he feared she could end up like Pam? Or because he was fighting a losing battle to keep h
er at arms length?
O'Brien's gaze bored into him from across the room.
"Shut up, Finn. I'm going."
***
Tears blurring her vision, Julie stared out the window at the growing dusk. Her mind too restless to allow her exhausted body to collapse, she perched on the edge of the bed. Another day gone— and no closer to guessing who was bent on destroying her. In a week's time, her life had blown apart. She could no more manage this situation— bodies in cars, drug-runners wanting her dead— than she could handle parachuting into the rainforest.
Until a week ago, she had effectively blocked out any problem that hadn't concerned resuscitating KTec. There, she had endless, tangible issues to obsess over— a board of directors who wanted her gone, a warehouse missing product and a financial statement hemorrhaging red ink.
A soft tap on the door made her stomach clenched. Probably Agent Barnes, itching for another round of verbal cage fighting. She should have escaped when she'd had the opportunity.
"I thought you'd be sleeping." Matt's reflection appeared in the mirror. "Got a minute?"
Unsure how steady her voice was as she hovered on the verge of tears, she nodded.
"I have questions about this list."
"You guys toss a coin to determine who had to talk to me?"
His mouth twitched into a reluctant smile. "Yeah. I lost."
Resigned to her fate, she waited for more bad news.
"I thought you said Tori was your assistant. But she's on the list as a manager."
"She manages front office staff." Her voice carefully monotone, Julie was drained of hope. Of caring what Agent Barnes thought. She'd experienced enough humiliation for one day.
"Has she always worked for you?"
"She started in Contracts." She read the confusion in his eyes. "I went to school with her sister," she explained. "We became friends. When my dad died, she was one of the few people I knew I could trust."
"Because of the transition?" He hesitated, as though waiting for her to spill her guts. But that wouldn't happen again. She'd finally learned her lesson. Finally, he spoke. "That makes sense, based on what you said earlier." Matt jotted a few notes. "She has access to everything?"
Out of the Mist (Can't Help Falling Book 1) Page 13
