by Dee Davis
“We’ll find a way out of this.”
He turned to face her, the shadow of his beard making his teeth shine white in the dark of the cell. “I don’t see how.”
“Well, first off, I’m going to check that computer.”
“For the FBI?” His brows lifted, his expression harsh.
“No.” She met his gaze unflinchingly. “For you.”
He sighed, resignation coloring his expression. “You’ll need the password.”
She nodded, her gaze still locked with his. “Shouldn’t be a problem, I used to have an in with the boss.” So much said, in so few words. She waited, not certain that he’d trust her this far.
“They won’t want you on the computers.” He didn’t have to say who. Considering the circumstances, she wasn’t exactly a welcome fixture at Guardian.
“I’m not planning to ask for permission.” She hoped her face reflected more confidence than she was feeling. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He nodded, and whispered the password.
Resurrection.
She bit back a smile, thinking of the misshapen phoenix. Jonathan Brighton certainly had a knack for rising from the dead. She just hoped he could manage it one more time.
Frank paced the confines of his study, trying to decide what to do. He could leave things the way they were, and most likely he’d get what he’d been promised. But somehow the idea didn’t sit well with him. Valerie and Jason had lied. Played him for a sucker. And quite possibly set John up to take a fall. He didn’t think they were killers, but suddenly in light of what he’d discovered, he wasn’t so sure.
He needed to talk to someone. Someone he could trust. Unfortunately, the only man he’d ever truly trusted was behind bars. Guilt washed through him. If he’d turned over what he’d found . . .
But he hadn’t. Although that didn’t negate the fact that he’d sided against John, and that in doing so, he might at least partially be responsible for the situation at hand. The idea made him physically sick. He’d let his ego get in the way of good judgment. Let Valerie Alejo charm him into treasonous thoughts.
So the question of the day was what he was going to do about it. He’d skated along to someone else’s tune for far too long. It was time to stop being everybody’s doormat.
Enough was enough.
The moment had come to stand up and be counted. He either stood with John or continued to cast his lot in with liars like Valerie and Jason. Put like that, the choice was easy. He’d just needed to face himself to recognize the truth of it.
He’d stand with John. No matter what happened. Even if Jesse didn’t get everything she wanted.
The thought was freeing. And for the first time in a long time Frank smiled, certain of what he was going to do. If he couldn’t talk to John, he’d do the next best thing. He’d talk to Katie Cavanaugh. John trusted her, and she was with the FBI. She’d know what to do.
Now all he had to do was find her.
Guardian was quiet, considering the excitement of the night before, although Katie had taken the service elevator just to be safe. John’s apartment was shuttered and still, the dark shadows giving it an almost sinister feel.
Despite herself, she shivered, wondering if there was really a way out of this nightmare. She forced herself to abandon her dark thoughts, and instead concentrate on the computer in front of her. She’d followed John’s instructions, and through the miracle of modern technology had accessed the computer log on Frank’s machine.
The problem was that there was nothing on it to indicate that Flo had used the machine. According to John, she should be seeing a list of activities. Things Flo had done the day of her murder, but there was nothing. The only person who’d used Frank’s computer was Frank.
And just at the moment, that didn’t help her one little bit. She leaned back in the chair, closing her eyes, trying to remember seeing Flo. Her thoughts had been on John, so her powers of observation hadn’t been the best, but she clearly remembered seeing the woman sitting in Frank’s office.
Or at least she thought she did. It had all happened so fast. She’d been running away from John’s recriminations, and Flo had seen her and called out, but not from her office. She’d been in the office next door, working at the computer.
If things hadn’t been so dire, Katie would have stopped to talk, but under the circumstances she’d only waved, intent on escape. The only reason she remembered it at all was that it had seemed odd to see Flo in the wrong office.
Frank’s office.
Katie’s mind obediently trotted out the image, except that it was wrong. The image reversed. Right on left. Understanding dawned and she opened her eyes, fingers flying over the keyboard.
Flo hadn’t been in Frank’s office at all. She’d been in the other office, the one on the left of hers. It had been Jason’s office—Jason’s computer.
She entered the commands again, consulting John’s notes, this time using Jason’s ID, and John’s password. The computer whirred for a moment, as if thinking, then beeped insistently, informing her that her password was invalid.
Frustrated, she repeated the commands, with the same result.
She banged the keyboard in frustration, and tried a third time, this time typing slowly, making certain each letter was correct. After all, three times was the charm.
Not.
Again the computer beeped at her, this time in succession, its patience obviously wearing thin. Which was par for the course. Katie ran a hand through her hair, studying the error message.
Incorrect password.
Either Jason had a different setup than Frank, or Jason’s ID had been changed. Either possibility had merit, but the latter meant that it was possible someone knew she was in the system. Instinct made her move quickly, shutting down the computer, moving from behind the desk.
The door squeaked as it opened, signaling her instincts had been dead-on.
“What are you doing in here?” Danny’s voice was way beyond anger.
It crossed her mind to try and confide in him. To tell him what she was looking for, but she hesitated. It wasn’t her story to tell, and if John wanted Danny to know, he’d have told him himself.
She turned slowly, schooling her face into what she hoped was placidity. Truth was, she didn’t do vapid all that well. “I was looking for this.” Her hand closed around the little phoenix and she held it out for Danny to see. “John wanted it. And since I was going to be here packing up my things, I offered to bring it to him.”
Danny eyed the little statue, then lifted his gaze slowly to meet hers. “You’ve no right to be in here. Not unless you’ve got a warrant.”
“For a statue?” She raised an eyebrow, hoping she didn’t look as transparent as she felt.
“I don’t give a damn about that piece of crap and you know it, but I don’t like your sneaking around John’s office without him being here. How do I know you aren’t procuring evidence?”
She held out her arms, allowing her rancor to show. “So search me.”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t tempt me.”
She glared back at him, her ire raising the ante on his anger by more than a little. Where the hell did he get off questioning her? She sucked in a deep breath, striving for calm, reminding herself he was only trying to protect John. “Look, Danny, whether you believe it or not, we both want the same thing. I want to help John as much as you do.”
“And why should I believe that?”
“Frankly, I don’t care what you believe. I care about your brother, and I intend to help him any way I can. So you can either work with me or work against me, but before you decide, you might want to remember that I’ve got the full weight of the law on my side. And people tend to take FBI agents seriously. Am I making myself clear?”
A muscle in his jaw signaled his agitation. Danny Brighton didn’t take well to being told what to do. Which was something they obviously had in common.
Finally, with a glare worthy of an
inquisitioner, he nodded. “You do what you have to do, Agent Cavanaugh, but you do it with a warrant. If my brother needs anything else, I’ll see that he gets it. In the meantime, you have fifteen minutes to get your things and get out of here. If you’re not gone by then, I’ll call security and have them throw you out. Am I making myself clear?”
She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again, turning heel to go get her stuff. She couldn’t really say that she blamed the man. After all, as far as John and Danny were concerned, the FBI was the enemy. And for all Danny could see, despite her protestations to the contrary, she was a bona fide player on the enemy’s side.
She’d have thrown her out, too, had she been in his position. Besides, the man was a zealot when it came to protecting his brother. She’d seen it from the first time she’d met him.
Moving quickly, she stuffed the rest of her clothes into her duffel and zipped it closed. The little statue was lying on the bed, one eye staring up at her balefully. With a tiny smile, she picked it up and tucked it into her pocket. She hadn’t meant to take the thing, but now that she’d lied about it to Danny, she could hardly put it back. Picking up the duffel, she walked into the living room, surprised to see it empty, evidently Danny’s bark was worse than his bite.
Quickly, she walked to the study, poking her head inside, relieved to see that it was empty as well. John’s laptop sat in the corner, and without stopping to consider ramifications, she grabbed it, turning back to the desk for a last look. If nothing else, she’d have a way to access the company computers if John thought of another way in.
If Danny had a problem with it, he could take it up with his brother. The outside door opened with a creak, and she stuffed the computer bag into her duffel as she walked into the living room. Maybe Danny had called the guards after all.
She held up a hand, ready to acquiesce, but dropped it in surprise when Frank Jacoby rounded the corner.
“I’m glad you’re still here.” His voice was softer than a whisper, his eyes darting about the room as if he expected someone to jump out at him. “I need to talk to you.”
“All right. Have a seat.” Katie frowned, and waved toward the sofa, trying to sort out what in the world had the little man so spooked.
“No.” The word came out a staccato burst. “Not here. Meet me in half an hour. The Starbucks on Congress and Sixth.” He shot another look around the empty living room, pivoted, and practically ran from the place.
All thoughts of Danny and his threats fled as she turned her mind to Frank and whatever it was that had him running scared. She just hoped that whatever it was, it changed things for the better, because, honest to God, she wasn’t certain it could get any worse.
“What the hell is going on?” Jason stood in the doorway to Danny’s office, his fears manifesting themselves in anger.
“I’m not sure I’m following, Jason.” Danny swiveled his chair so that they were eye to eye. “I realize that things have been hairy of late, but what specifically seems to be the problem?”
“Don’t patronize me, Brighton.” He swallowed back further retort.
As if reading his thoughts, Danny raised a hand in placation. “I’m sorry. Tempers are running high around here. I didn’t mean to snap. What’s up?”
Jason swallowed a lungful of air, letting the influx of oxygen soothe his frazzled nerves. “I can’t get onto my computer. Damn thing says my ID is invalid.”
“Yeah. They all say that. I’m trying to restructure the system.”
“What the hell for?” He immediately regretted his outburst. No sense letting Danny realize how upset he was.
“Seems like the wise move. We don’t want any unauthorized entry into the system. And until this is over, there’s no way to know who to trust.”
“Something happened.” He waited, already knowing the answer, but was curious to see where the newest danger lay.
“I caught the FBI bitch upstairs in John’s office.”
“She was on the computer?”
“Not when I walked in. But I see no point in taking chances.”
“So when am I going to be able to access the files?”
“Later this afternoon. You’ll have limited access restored.” Danny sat back, steepling his fingers. “But until we get to the bottom of what’s happening, I’ll be the only one with full access.”
Jason frowned. “Under whose authority?”
“Mine. Jonathan isn’t here, and according to the corporation bylaws, I’m second in command until he resigns or is replaced.”
“I see.” So much for Valerie’s coup. “And after that?”
“Let’s cross one bridge at a time. Right now, it’s going to take all the skill I have just to get around Jonathan’s security. The man is obsessive about protecting files. I’m going over there in a little while to get the rest of the codes. We’ll be off-line until then.”
No sense in creating problems where there were none. If no one was on-line, then things were safe—for the time being. He’d just have to be patient a little while longer.
“I, ah . . . found something.” Frank stared down into his latte, looking like he wished he were anywhere but here.
“Something that can help John.” She tried to lead him, resisting the urge to scream at him instead. Scaring a witness had its uses, but not in an instance like this.
“Maybe.” He laid a small black notebook on the table. “This was in Derek Miller’s desk.”
“You took it?”
“I found it, in a hidden compartment, and I thought it was important, so yes, I took it.”
She flipped open the book. Columns of numbers were neatly listed, along with dates. Each entry followed by the initials JB. John Brighton. “Do you know what these are?”
“I’m not sure. But I think it’s a record of transfers and withdrawals. Jonathan mentioned the money he paid to Miller. I think it’s there at the end.” He reached for the book, flipping to another page, pointing to the number.
The date was accurate. The initials damning. John had recorded his crimes with the diligence of an accountant. “I thought you said this would help him.”
Frank’s smile was only a shadow, but it was there nonetheless. “You’re seeing it the way I did. I thought it was Jonathan at first, too. But look at this.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper.
Katie unfolded it, and stared down at a page from a day-planner. The appointments initialed in the same way as the black book’s entries. She looked up, to meet Frank’s gaze, puzzled. “I don’t see—”
“It’s Jason’s. I took it out of his Filofax. The initials are JP, not JB. It’s just the way he writes. John didn’t pay money to Derek, Jason did—because of this.”
Katie felt a small stirring of hope. “But I saw the check, Frank, it had John’s signature.”
“I’ve got an answer for that, too.” He reached in his pocket again, this time producing a rubber stamp. “It’s Jonathan’s signature. I found it in Jason’s desk.”
She looked back at the book, the stirring blossoming into something more. “How long have you had this?”
“A while. I wasn’t sure what to do with it. At first I wanted to keep it quiet for Jonathan’s sake, and then,” he looked down at his hands, obviously unwilling to look her in the eyes, “and then I decided to use it against him.”
“But you didn’t.” Despite the implications of what he’d been going to do, Frank was here now, and in her book that counted for something.
“I tried. I planted it in his old office, figuring someone would find it. That’s what I was doing last night— when I found Jonathan and Flo.” He looked up, his eyes begging her to believe him. “Then later, I met with Valerie and Danny and Jason. To talk about what happened and what we were going to do.”
“And that’s when you saw the Filofax?” She frowned, trying to sort through the new information, to put it in context with Flo’s murder.
“Yeah, and I decided to go ba
ck and get the book.” He shrugged, still looking uncomfortable. “I . . . I thought it might be useful.”
“To blackmail Jason.” He was easy to read, his thoughts practically telegraphing themselves to her.
“I considered it. For a moment. But I couldn’t go through with it. Not if there’s a chance this can help John. Not if Jason’s the one who killed Florence.”
She reached over to cover his hand with hers. “You did the right thing, Frank. You should be proud of yourself. It took courage to come to me with this.”
“Will it help?” His face was so hopeful, she wanted to lie to him, to make him believe everything would be okay.
But there was nothing to be gained in doing that. Jason Pollock might be an embezzler, and he might even have written the check to Derek Miller, but that was still a long way from proving he killed the man.
“I don’t know. But it certainly can’t hurt. I’ll get this to my boss, and then we’ll take it from there. At least it creates reasonable doubt. In the meantime, you be careful, Frank. Two people are already dead. Watch your back.”
He nodded, straightening his shoulders. “I’ll be okay. You just take care of John. He’s been through enough.”
“I will. You take care of you.”
He nodded, and stood up, beginning to make his way out of the crowded coffee bar. Allies came from the most unlikely places.
She closed the little book and tucked it into her pocket along with the stamp. She’d take it to Roswell, but before she did that, she was stopping to make a copy. One for John’s lawyer and another for Eric D’Angelo. If things played out the way she expected, she wanted to cover all her bases.
She was going to help John. And to do that, she needed to plan her strategy carefully, make every move count. One mistake, and she was out of the game. And she simply couldn’t afford that.
Despite his misgivings, John was counting on her, and she wasn’t about to let him down again. This time she was going to prove she was worthy, not only of his trust, but of his love. There was going to be a happy ending if she had to sweat blood to make it so.
