by Dee Davis
"I think that might be an overstatement," she said. "You know how I feel about Tom Irwin. I’d never, ever go anywhere with that man." True or false, it seemed to be the protest of the day.
"I think you’ve made that point abundantly clear," her father said with a grimace. "Anyway, regardless of whom you spent the night with, the next time you go somewhere unexpected, I’d appreciate it if you’d let one of us know where you are."
"Yes," Jules seconded. "And you should call Sylvie. She’s been worried, too. Although I think she’s more upset that she missed all the excitement."
"There was no excitement," Emily reiterated. At least not at the club. Nausea threatened, and she swallowed, trying to force herself to stay calm. After everything Gideon had done for her, it wouldn’t do if she were to fall apart now.
"Oh my God, Emily," Uncle Vincent said, striding into the room and pulling her into a hug. "I’m so glad to see that you’re all right. We were all so worried about you."
She relaxed into his embrace, letting her fear go. It was nice to be surrounded by people who cared. She knew she was loved, but after everything that had happened, it was nice to be reminded of the fact. Especially considering her conversation with Ryder Kincaid.
"So I’ve been told," she said, smiling up at her uncle. "I’m so sorry I missed our meeting. I confess I forgot. I wasn’t feeling my best this morning." It was rather more of an understatement than an exaggeration, after all.
"Tequila," Jules added, her lips quirking into a grin. "My fault for not adequately chaperoning."
"Oh, please," Emily protested. "I’m a big girl. Can’t we change the subject? Clearly I’m fine. Nothing dire has happened." Well, at least not that she was prepared to share. "Jules had a successful meeting this morning. How was yours, Uncle Vincent?"
"Good. Great, actually. Things are coming together. I’m just waiting for everything to fall into place." He still held Emily’s hands, and she thought she felt him flinch. "But first, how about some refreshment? I’d say we should have a drink." He waggled an eyebrow, eyes twinkling. Perhaps she’d imagined the flinch. Obviously her senses were in overdrive. "But I’m guessing, under the circumstances, maybe that’s not something Emily’s interested in."
Everyone laughed, and she tried to look as if the idea made her sick. Actually, it sounded pretty damn good. Anything to help her relax. But downing a couple of shots of bourbon wouldn’t exactly play into the charade Gideon had thrown her into. Well, not Gideon so much as Tom Irwin. Or maybe her own stupidity.
As if he’d actually heard Uncle Vincent’s request, Pete Dockery, her father’s secretary, stepped into the room. But instead of asking what people would like to drink, he fixed his somber stare on Emily’s father. A shiver worked its way down her spine.
"I hate to intrude, sir," Dockery said. "But there’s something on the television I think that you need to see—all of you." He gestured toward Blake’s office, and they all crowded into the room. The large screen TV on the wall above the fireplace was already on.
A picture flashed, first of Senator Irwin and then of police vehicles outside of the Brighton Hotel. Emily’s breath caught as Dockery used the remote to turn the television’s volume up.
"…the senator’s body was found by a maid several hours ago in a room on the eighth floor here at the Brighton Hotel on East 56th Street," the reporter said, speaking into a mic just outside the hotel’s entrance. "Although no one has been allowed in to the scene, word has it that Tom Irwin was stabbed multiple times early this morning and left to die. While there are currently no suspects, the investigation is ongoing." The camera panned out, inserting Tom’s picture again in the upper right corner of the screen. "Again, we’re reporting that Senator Tom Irwin has been murdered…"
For a moment Emily thought she was going to throw up. All she could see was Tom lying on the bed, his body mutilated, blood everywhere.
"Son of a bitch…" Uncle Vincent looked almost as sick as she felt.
"I guess we shouldn’t be all that surprised," Jules said. "The man was a monster."
"We don’t know that for certain," Emily’s father was quick to say. "Although, I’ll admit he definitely had his share of enemies."
"Em, are you all right?" Jules had moved over to place a hand under her elbow, her gaze searching.
Emily looked away, worried about what might be reflected in her eyes. "I’m fine," she said, pulling free. "Just shocked is all. As you said, I apparently saw him just last night."
"Well, whatever you do, don’t share that with anyone," her father snapped, dismissing Dockery and clicking the television off.
"They’ll find out anyway," Jules said. "They’ll be canvassing everywhere. Including the club. If I saw them together, you can bet others did as well."
"It doesn’t matter," Uncle Vincent said. "It’s not as if you left with him or anything."
Which of course was precisely the problem. She had left with him. Or followed him. Or something. Whatever the method, she’d wound up in the senator’s room. And Jules was right; someone might have seen her.
Which meant that all of Gideon’s carefully laid plans could very well have been for nothing.
*****
"YOU’RE BACK," Gideon said as he walked into Ryder’s office at Triad’s headquarters.
Unlike his and Declan’s offices, which were surrounded by windows looking out onto Park Avenue, Ryder had chosen a center office. No windows. Just banks of monitors and a jumble of machinery that Gideon couldn’t identify if someone put a gun to his head. They jokingly referred to it as the bat cave, although in some sense that’s exactly what it was. Command central. At least for all things technical.
"Yeah. And the princess is safely returned to the tower." Ryder didn’t look up from the monitor he was studying, but Gideon didn’t need to see his friend’s face to recognize the sarcasm in Ryder’s pronouncement.
"And you left someone watching the place?" he asked, ignoring the jab.
"As instructed. Although I’d think daddy dearest would already have that well under control. The princess made it more than apparent on the drive over that she believed her father hung the fucking moon."
"Yeah, well, I still don’t trust the man."
"With good reason. But we are talking about his precious daughter. Can’t imagine Blake Masterson would let anyone harm a hair on her head." Ryder hit a button and a window opened on the screen as the computer searched through a series of files.
"Unless the situation forced him to."
"Surely you’re not saying you think Blake Masterson instigated his daughter being drugged and dragged to Irwin’s hotel room?"
"I don’t know, but it wouldn’t be the first time he framed someone." Gideon ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I’m not saying that Masterson did this. I’m just not giving anyone a pass. Which is why I want people watching over Emily wherever she is. Especially now that word is out that the senator is dead."
"They found the body, then?"
"Yeah. A maid. It’s all over the news and the internet. And the police are at the scene. Anyway, if someone is pissed at us for changing the rules of the game, they’ll likely consider Emily a loose end. Which means we need to make damn sure she’s kept out of harm’s way."
"I get that she might be in danger. But we’ve done our job. And it just seems to me that maybe you’re taking a bit too personal an interest in all of this."
"Yeah, and it seems like maybe you should mind your own fucking business. I told you before, Emily is a client. Nothing more."
Ryder lifted his hands in supplication. "Fine. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit a nerve. I left her in good hands. According to the doorman, Masterson was in the apartment along with Emily’s friend Jules. And right after that her uncle arrived. One big happy family."
"Thank you," Gideon said. "I didn’t mean to bite your head off."
"This is tough for you. I know. And I sure as hell don’t want to do anything to add to the problem."
"I know." Besides, Ryder had the right of it. Gideon shouldn’t be so involved. He had people who were more than capable of handling it. But he couldn’t seem to stop himself from worrying. "So," he said, shifting his attention to Ryder’s monitor, "you finding any evidence that someone else was in the security system besides you?" He hooked a leg over the corner of a small conference table and leaned back, watching his friend as he scrolled through the spooling files.
"Yeah. Whoever it is knows their way around a computer, but they’re not any good at hiding their footprints." Ryder grinned. "At least not from me."
"Good thing you don’t suffer from a lack of self-esteem."
"Hey, I just call it the way I see it. Anyway, someone was definitely in here before me. Deleting files, from the looks of it. I’m just trying to track down what they thought they’d eliminated. And bring the footage back to life. From what I can tell, the files were connected to the elevator cameras. And the time stamps correlate with the window between when we figure the senator arrived with Emily and when we know he was dead in the room."
"Except we don’t know for sure that he arrived with Em. We can’t even tie him to the club where she was partying."
"Actually we can," Declan said from the doorway to Ryder’s office. "The doorman at Avalon confirms it. Says he was there at the bar for a couple of hours. And left around 1:15. But not with Emily." He walked into the room and dropped down into a chair. "I’m assuming you guys have seen the news?"
"We have." Gideon nodded. "Looks like word is out everywhere. But so far nothing that indicates they’ve found evidence to link Emily to the murder site. You talked to any of our sources inside One Police Plaza?"
"Yeah, but it’s too early for the police to have any info. We’ll know more tomorrow."
"What about the club? Did the guy at the door at least confirm that Emily was there?"
"Yes. With her friend Jules. They arrived around 11:30. The doorman said they were pretty drunk. Anyway, Jules left about half an hour later. Guy called a cab for her."
"And Emily?"
"Bartender remembers her ordering a drink around 12:30. And then saw her talking to several men." Declan paused to exchange a glance with Ryder.
Gideon rolled his eyes. "It’s okay, ladies, I don’t give a shit who she was with. At least not outside of our investigation. So did the bartender identify who she was talking to?"
"Yeah," Declan sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. "Two people. A guy named Jesse Tyler." He glanced down at his phone. "Apparently he’s a staple at Avalon."
"Some kind of political mover and shaker, if I remember right," Gideon said, watching as Ryder continued to manipulate the data on his computer screen.
"Well, he was." Declan shrugged. "These days he’s more of a poser."
"Who else?" Gideon asked.
"Jack Wetherston. A reporter for the Post."
"That can’t be good," Ryder said without bothering to look up.
"Well, according to the bartender, she didn’t talk to him for long. The guy said the conversation seemed somewhat stilted, but not adversarial."
"What about the senator?" Gideon asked.
"She definitely talked to him too. Sat next to him at the bar for a bit."
"But you’re sure she didn’t leave with him." Gideon’s gut tightened as he waited for the answer.
"The doorman swears the senator left alone."
"Did he see Emily leave?"
"Well, now that’s where it gets more interesting. No one saw her leave. Last anyone remembers her at all was the time she spent talking to the men at the bar."
"Shit." Gideon blew out a frustrated breath. One step forward. Two steps back. Despite the fact that he was certain they’d successfully covered up her part in whatever had happened to the senator, he still needed to know what the hell was going on. It galled him not to know where the threat to Emily might be coming from.
"We do know that the club closed around 1:30. Which means she had to have been gone by then. And that leaves plenty of time for both the senator and Emily to make it the three blocks to the hotel room before two."
"So we have a timeline," Gideon said, pushing to his feet, "but still nothing that makes sense when we look at the facts as we know them."
"Right. We know that the senator was killed around two. We know that he left the club around 1:15. We know that Emily was seen in the bar around the same time, and had been talking to the senator, among others. We know she was drugged. Probably at the bar. And we know that she most likely didn’t leave the club by the front door."
"How many other exits?" Gideon asked.
"Three. One in the back leading into an alley. A fire door leading out into a loading bay. And a hatch in the alley that leads to the storage cellar. Cellar’s connected to the club by stairs in the kitchen. And no security cameras on any of that."
"Did you get me what they do have?" Ryder asked.
"I did indeed. They should be sending it over within the hour."
Ryder hit a key and then another, and a window opened on the screen with a grainy image. "Got it," he exclaimed, hitting another button to enlarge the picture.
"Son of a bitch," Declan exclaimed as he looked over Ryder’s shoulder.
The picture showed the hotel’s elevator bank. Two figures were illuminated in the open doorway of one elevator. One of them was clearly Emily, her eyes closed, head lolling to one side. The second, Tom Irwin, was holding Emily around the waist, one of his hands spread possessively across her breast. Gideon clenched a fist, insanely wishing the senator was alive so that he could kill the bastard all over again.
"What’s that? Closer to the door?" Declan asked. "Is that an arm?"
"Hang on. Let me see if I can make it any clearer." Ryder hit several more keys and the picture’s clarity improved, but only slightly.
"There," Declan said, pointing to what looked to be a shadow by the edge of the open elevator door. "See?"
Ryder enlarged the image yet again, but the boost in size cost the image clarity. Still Gideon could clearly see the lines of an arm.
"Gentleman," Ryder said, sitting back. "I think we just got a glimpse of our killer."
"Except we can’t fucking see anything that might help us identify him," Declan groused. "You got anything else?"
"Sadly, no," Ryder said. "This was the only frame I could recover. But at least we know that we were right about Emily being brought to the hotel without her consent."
"And that the senator was behind it. But how the hell do we get from there to identifying the murderer?" Declan asked, the question clearly rhetorical. "I’m not even completely sure it’s really an arm."
"It’s an arm all right. The line and shape are right. And you can almost see the skin here." Gideon pointed at the screen. "And look at that shadow cutting across it. Might be a tattoo of some kind. Although I’ll be damned if I can make it out."
"If we could then it might be enough to identify the bastard." Declan blew out a frustrated breath and leaned back against the table. "But if we can’t see it, we can’t identify it. Which means we’ve still got nothing."
"Maybe there’s a chance it can be enhanced," Ryder said, still staring at the monitor. "I have a friend, Harrison Blake. He’s a whiz with stuff like this. Maybe he’ll be able to do something I can’t. He’s got access to some pretty spectacular technology."
"It’s worth a shot," Declan said. "He’s here in the city, right?"
"At least part of the time. He and his girlfriend Hannah have a place on the west side. But they spend a lot of time upstate, too, and out in the field. They teach at a college—among other things."
"Wait, I know who you’re talking about. The guy in the CIA, right?" Gideon said, the question rhetorical. "The one who works black ops?"
Ryder was considered at the top of his game in computer forensics, which meant that he sometimes worked with other experts around the country. It meant he helped out operatives from other agencies,
but in return, those same professionals were more than happy to return the favor. Quid pro quo.
"Yup," Ryder answered. "That’s Harrison—a regular Jason Bourne. But in all truth, he’s a geek at heart. Just like me."
"So call him. If Harrison can help us identify this bastard, so much the better." Gideon stared at the photo, both hands clenched now. "Whoever this guy is, if he’s on the video feed, it means he was close to the senator and that Irwin trusted him enough to have him help transport Emily. He could be our murderer. Or he could be another loose end. Either way, he’s dangerous." He whirled around, heading for the door. "All of which means I need to see Emily."
"Under the circumstances that might not be such a good idea," Declan began.
"Probably not," Gideon admitted. "But just at the moment, I don’t fucking care."
CHAPTER 5
EMILY LET HERSELF in the front door of her brownstone and dropped her keys and purse on the credenza in the hallway. Bailey, alerted by the sound of the key in the lock, danced at her feet, barking in joyous welcome. Dorothy Gale had it right. There was no place like home.
"Hey, sweet boy, how was your day? Sorry I wasn’t here to spend it with you." She scratched Bailey behind one ear, the corresponding hind leg thumping in happy solidarity. "But I did send reinforcements. Which means you got two dinners. So you can cut out the sad-eyed feed-me routine. You’ve had more than your fair share already."
At the mention of food, Emily realized she hadn’t eaten anything all day. Her father and uncle had wanted her to stay with them for dinner. Actually, they’d wanted her to move back in for life. But that wasn’t going to happen, and truthfully she hadn’t been up to making happy talk with her family for the whole evening. She’d just needed some alone time to decompress.
For a moment she felt a shiver of worry, but shoved it aside, thinking of Gideon’s man parked in the SUV just up the block. He hadn’t told her he was sending anyone, but she recognized the guy from the safe house. With a smile, and a last pat for her dog, Emily kicked off her shoes and padded into her kitchen.
