Freefall

by Traci Hunter Abramson

  Seth rustled through some papers. Then a slow smile spread over his face. “At 12:16 P.M., the reporter charged lunch to her company’s credit card at a restaurant that’s only a few miles away from the Capitol Building.”

  Brent grinned. “The senator left his office around eleven to go pack for his trip to Cairo.”

  “Tristan, check out the security logs at the Capitol for that day. See if any of the staff members left around eleven. Quinn, make a visit to the restaurant and see if anyone can identify Ackman or Reilly.” Kel turned to Seth. “You crosscheck the senator’s staff’s credit card records to see if we can narrow this down any more.”

  “I’ll check out the unlisted phone numbers at the Capitol,” Brent volunteered. “Maybe one will match those unidentified numbers.”

  “Just make sure you keep them out of trouble,” Kel suggested, motioning to Tristan and Quinn. “I’m going to lunch.”

  * * *

  Brent shook his head in frustration as he and Tristan studied the security logs of the Capitol. Security officers buzzed in and out of the building’s security office as both men came to the same realization: both of their prime suspects had left the building within minutes of each other during the time in question. Even the receptionist and Jared Elliott had left during the critical window of time.

  “It could have been anyone,” Tristan finally said as he pushed back from the table.

  “Basically,” Brent agreed as a security officer approached.

  “We identified two of those phone numbers you were looking for,” the officer told them. “One is for a conference room, and the other is from Congresswoman Donlan’s office.”

  “Thanks,” Tristan said as he stood. “Maybe we’ll have more luck with these.”

  “I’ll check out the conference room,” Brent told Tristan. “You see if the congresswoman remembers talking to the press that day.”

  Tristan nodded as they stepped out into the hall and he headed in the opposite direction of Brent. When Brent found the conference room upstairs, it was being used. He noticed two men in dark suits flanking a door a short distance away. Curiously, he walked down the hall, passing only four doors before he was standing in front of Senator Whitmore’s office. He was debating whether or not to go inside when his cell phone rang.

  He nodded a greeting to the two men guarding the door and walked a few yards farther down the hall before picking up. “Miller.”

  “The congresswoman said she sent out several press releases that day, and she remembers being interviewed by that reporter,” Tristan told Brent. “Her story matches the phone records. It looks like that call happened around ten.”

  “What time was the call from the conference room?”

  “Quarter after ten.”

  “It’s only a few doors down from Senator Whitmore’s office.”

  Another call beeped through. “Hold on, I’ve got another call.” Brent flipped to the other line to find Quinn calling.

  “I found the waitress who served the reporter at the restaurant that day,” Quinn said. “She said the reporter was sitting with a good-looking man in his twenties with light hair.”

  “Is she sure it was that day?”

  “Yep. She only works one day a week. She even remembers the reporter passing a thick envelope to him,” Quinn informed him. “In fact, he was dumb enough to open it and she said it was full of cash.”

  “Get her info so the FBI can get an official statement,” Brent instructed. “Then you can come meet me and Tristan over here.”

  Brent clicked back over to Tristan and updated him on the new information. “I want you to call the FBI and get them over here to conduct a search of the senator’s office. Hopefully we’ll find a trace of that money.”

  Brent had barely hung up when the phone rang again. This time Seth was on the other end. “What have you got?”

  “I ran credit card activity on both of our prime suspects.”

  “And?”

  “And I think I’ve found our culprit.”

  Brent listened as Seth detailed the credit card information for several members of the senator’s staff. A grin crossed his face as all of the clues finally started pointing in one direction. “Call Tristan and fill him in.”

  “What are you going to do?” Seth asked.

  “I’m going to wait around for the feds to arrive.”

  CHAPTER 24

  After showing his ID to the men in the hall, Brent waited for nearly forty-five minutes outside Senator Whitmore’s office before he finally got the call that the FBI had arrived with the search warrant. Impatiently, he pushed open the outer door of the senator’s office and took a good look around. A woman he guessed to be about his mom’s age sat at the reception desk, a phone to her ear. Across from her was another desk, the man who occupied it also on the phone. Brent glanced at the nameplate and turned to the third desk, the one right beside what he assumed to be the door to the senator’s office.

  Pretty boy was Brent’s first impression as he summed up the twenty-something-year-old man who was currently tapping away on a computer. Jerk was his next thought.

  The receptionist hung up the phone and turned to Brent. “Can I help you?”

  “No, thanks.” Brent shook his head, keeping his position just inside the door. “I’m supposed to meet someone here, but it looks like I’m a few minutes early.”

  The woman glanced at her appointment book. “Did you have an appointment with Senator Whitmore?”

  “No, not with the senator.” Brent shook his head. Anticipating that he was making the receptionist nervous, he considered his options. He could either announce that he was here to bring Pretty Boy in for questioning, or he could skirt around the truth. “I was planning on picking his daughter up for an early dinner.”

  Brent had the satisfaction of seeing Jared Elliott’s hands freeze on the computer and his head turn toward him. Despite the fact that Brent had already answered the receptionist, Jared asked, “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “No, thanks,” Brent said casually.

  “You said you have a date with Amy Whitmore?” Jared started.

  “That’s right.”

  “I find that difficult to believe.” Jared stood and stepped out from behind his desk. “I’m Amy’s fiancé.”

  Brent’s first thought was that no one else was going to marry Amy if he could help it. Even as that thought startled him, Brent rocked back on his heels, keeping his voice and his posture relaxed. “That’s funny, she didn’t mention it on any of our dates last weekend.”

  Jared’s jaw dropped, but whatever response he had planned died the moment Jim Whitmore opened the door. When Amy followed him out of his office, Brent prepared to make his earlier excuse a reality. He saw the surprise in her eyes but moved forward as though she had been expecting him.

  “Hi, honey.” Brent ignored the warning look in Jim’s eyes and kissed her cheek. “I hope I’m not late, but I got hung up at work. You did still want to go get some dinner, didn’t you?”

  Amy played along. “That sounds great.”

  “Amy, I thought you were coming with me to the Mitchells’ dinner party tonight,” Jared said, looking sincerely shocked.

  “No, you assumed I was coming. You never actually mentioned it to me.” Amy turned to Brent and gave a little shrug. “Jared has a bit of trouble understanding the word ‘no.’”

  “He has a lot of trouble understanding the word ‘integrity,’” Brent added.

  “What’s going on here?” Jim finally asked.

  “As I mentioned to you on the phone, I have been investigating the leak about your daughter’s rescue.” Brent motioned to Jared. “We found it.”

  “That’s absurd,” Jared insisted, leaning casually against his desk.

  Jim shook his head in denial. “What makes you think Jared is involved?”

  “The reporter who broke the story received a call from the phone in the conference room down the hall,” Brent replied.
“Two hours later, the reporter charged lunch at a restaurant just a short distance from here.”

  “Anyone could have used that phone,” Jared pointed out.

  “Yes, but the only people who could have gained access to the information about Amy and who also matched the waitress’s description are you and Mr. Reilly over there.”

  Colton Reilly’s eyes widened, but before he could defend himself, Brent did it for him. “Since Mr. Reilly was using his credit card in Georgetown at the same time the reporter was having lunch, that just leaves you.”

  “Perhaps you should consider taking a class in law,” Jared suggested with a haughty tone. “All of this is purely circumstantial.”

  “That’s true until the waitress identifies you.” Brent had the satisfaction of seeing Jared’s face pale. “And then of course there’s your own credit card activity.”

  “What about it?” Jim asked before Jared could defend himself any further.

  “He was using his cards frequently until the day you left for Egypt. His last charge was at the gas station down the block, which happens to be conveniently located on the way to the restaurant where the reporter ate lunch. The timing fits perfectly.” Brent nodded toward Jared. “Since that day, he hasn’t made a single charge. Makes me think he came into some cash.”

  Jared stepped forward, squaring off against Brent. “I don’t have to listen to any more of this. I’m not saying another word to you without my lawyer.”

  “That sounds reasonable,” Brent agreed. But when Jared tried to move to the door, he reached out and grabbed his arm. “But you aren’t going anywhere until the FBI gets the chance to talk to you.”

  “Don’t try to stop me,” Jared said through gritted teeth. He slapped at Brent’s hand, but Brent’s grip didn’t falter.

  Brent checked the urge to slam him up against the wall, barely. Instead his voice was deadly calm when he said simply, “Mr. Elliott, I’m a Navy SEAL. Threats don’t work on me.”

  The door opened and Brent watched two FBI agents step inside. “I believe these gentlemen are here to see you,” he said to Jared. With some regret, he let one of the agents take custody of Jared as the other presented a warrant to Jim.

  “Start with Mr. Elliott’s desk,” Brent instructed. “We’re looking for a plain envelope. It might even have some cash still in it.”

  The agent nodded in response and started opening Jared’s desk drawers and riffling through them. He searched the desk in vain, but when he searched the pockets of Jared’s jacket, he pulled out an envelope containing almost a thousand dollars in cash.

  Amy’s eyes widened in shock as her father stepped forward.

  “How could you do such a thing?” Jim accused, closing the distance between him and Jared. “You could have gotten her killed!”

  Jared just stared at him, refusing to answer.

  Suddenly compassionate to the shock and betrayal Jim was suffering, Brent nodded to the FBI agents and watched them escort Jared from the office. He then laid a hand on the older man’s arm. “Senator, perhaps I can convince you to join me and Amy for dinner.”

  For a long minute, Jim stared at the door the FBI agents had just disappeared through. Slowly, he turned to face Brent and shook his head. “No, thank you. You two go ahead. I have a few things I need to take care of.”

  Amy slid an arm around her father’s waist. “Dad, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, thanks,” Jim answered, though not convincingly. He started toward his office before turning back to face Brent. “By the way, I think it’s about time you started calling me Jim.”

  “Thanks, Jim.” Brent nodded, a silent understanding reached. “Did you want me to bring Amy back here after we eat, or shall I escort her home?”

  “I have some late meetings, so I would appreciate it if you could get her home safely.”

  Amy reached up and kissed her dad good-bye and then followed Brent out into the hall. “I can’t believe Jared was the leak.”

  “I can’t believe you were engaged to the guy.”

  “I was young and stupid,” Amy replied easily. She took three steps before she turned back to face him. “How did you know I was engaged to him?”

  “I never reveal my sources.”

  “That I can believe.”

  * * *

  Brent sat across from Amy at the McDonald’s adjoining the Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum. After the FBI took Jared into custody, Quinn and Tristan had headed back to Quantico, leaving Brent to spend time with Amy. Brent considered himself beyond lucky that he had insisted on driving his own car instead of carpooling to DC with Quinn. Brent glanced around the restaurant to see that Amy’s security detail had taken their positions nearby. “When I offered to take you out to eat, I didn’t mean McDonald’s.”

  “But I wanted McDonald’s.” Amy dumped her french fries out of the bag and proceeded to squirt ketchup on them. “Besides, how often do you get a chance to just hang out at the Smithsonian?”

  “I don’t think I’ve been here since I was in high school,” Brent admitted. “It’s funny how those of us who grow up around DC don’t actually take the time to come and see all the things that attract the tourists.”

  Amy lowered her voice and leaned closer. “Probably because we’re so sick of dealing with the tourists.”

  “True,” Brent laughed. “Now what? Do you want to go out and do something after dinner?”

  Amy nodded at her security detail. “I don’t think my friends over there will want me to play tourist tonight.” She looked out through the wall of glass separating them from the oppressive heat and humidity outside and considered their options. “How about catching an early movie?”

  “We can do that.” Brent smiled. He collected their trash and dumped it into a trash can, then held out his hand to Amy. Together they made their way back through the crowded Air and Space Museum.

  The heat enveloped them when they walked outside and turned toward the parking garage where Brent had left his car. Brent stopped long enough to talk to Amy’s security detail, telling them where he was parked so that one of them could go get their car and meet them at the parking garage.

  Despite the heat, the sidewalks were crowded with tourists and the occasional local. In the distance a baby cried, and on the grass a couple of kids were throwing a Frisbee.

  As soon as they made it to Brent’s car, Brent turned to Amy. “Did you want to find a movie theater here in DC, or would you rather go to one near where you live?”

  “Let’s go into Great Falls,” Amy suggested. “I rode in with Dad this morning, so I don’t have to worry about picking up my car.”

  Brent nodded and pulled out onto the street. They fell into easy conversation, and once again he was surprised at how comfortable he was around her. He thought of his earlier instinct that he wasn’t going to let anyone else marry her, and a new sense of determination to spend time with her settled through him. His stomach clenched at the realization that he couldn’t imagine a life without her, and he wondered if it was possible to fall in love in such a short period of time. Just as he felt the tension settling over him, Amy said something to make him laugh and he pushed those thoughts aside. He promised himself he would analyze his feelings later. Much later.

  Instead, he debated with her about the Nationals’ chances of making the playoffs, and speculated on the new players the Washington Redskins football team had picked up in the off season. When they arrived at the movie theater a few miles away from Amy’s house, Brent was relieved to find that they even liked the same movies.

  The theater was empty when they chose their seats for the evening showing of the latest comedy.

  Amy settled down in her seat and turned toward Brent. “Now that your latest project is done, what happens next?” she asked, offering Brent some of her popcorn. “Will your unit stay in Quantico, or will you move back down to Virginia Beach?”

  “The training course we’re conducting at Quantico will last for another thr
ee months. After that we’ll probably head back to Virginia Beach.” Brent shrugged. “With this job, you can never be too sure.”

  “Can I ask you a question?” Amy asked tentatively.

  Brent nodded.

  “Why were you assigned to uncover the leak? I would have thought an investigation like that would have been turned over to the FBI or Naval Intelligence.”

  “That’s usually true. I think it was partly your father’s doing, actually. Congress is so fed up with leaks that they wanted to make sure the investigating officer couldn’t have possibly been involved. Besides, intelligence is a big part of our job. Every once in a while, the powers that be like to throw a case like this at us and see how we perform.”

  Amy shook her head. “I still can’t believe it was Jared. I don’t think I’ve seen Dad this shaken up in a long time.”

  “Your whole family really should look into some kind of counseling. Your dad and brother have had their share of stress over the past few weeks,” Brent said as another couple walked in and sat down a few rows in front of them. He glanced back at the special agents in the back of the theater and added, “Not to mention having a security team tagging along behind all of you now.”

  “Mom already arranged for counseling,” Amy told him. “I think she’s worried about how Dad is since the whole thing happened. Of course, she’s just as worried that I seem too normal.”

  “Everyone reacts to things in their own way,” Brent replied. “We have to go through a psych evaluation every six months for that reason. No one wants to find out the hard way that someone is having trouble dealing with the pressure.”

  The lights dimmed as a few more people entered the theater. Brent reached his arm around the back of Amy’s seat and drew her closer. She leaned her head against his shoulder, feeling so completely normal that she could almost forget about the terrorists, the subway threat, and even Jared.

  They laughed together at the movie, both grateful to be able to laugh again. The movie was almost over when Brent sat up and reached for his cell phone. She looked over to see him read the lighted display. He leaned over and whispered, “I’ve got to go make a call.”