“No, it was Tom. I remember now.”
“Did he spell Green the normal way or with an ‘e’ at the end?”
“I don’t know. It’s not like he gave me a business card. We were just chatting.”
Karly pictured him standing beside her table at the restaurant. He’d had an easygoing way about him and a friendly smile. He’d only spoken with her and Natalie for a few moments before heading off to the beach.
Mays and Hull were watching her intently.
“I only talked to him for a minute,” Karly said. “I don’t remember that much about him. It’s not like he was there the whole time.”
“When did he show up?” Mays asked.
“Wednesday.” Karly’s blood chilled a few degrees. That was the day before the attack. “At least, that’s what Natalie said.”
Mays looked surprised. “Natalie met him?”
“Yeah. She met him in the gift shop. She had a longer conversation with him than I did, so she might know more.”
Mays and Hull exchanged glances.
“Her father’s prohibited any further interviews,” Hull said. “Also, we understand she’s having memory issues with the time frame surrounding the attack.”
Karly felt a sharp pang. She couldn’t even imagine what Natalie must be going through right now.
“Getting back to Tom Green,” Mays said. “What did he talk to you about?”
“Nothing, really. I had my laptop and my press pass out, and he asked about my work.” Karly’s pulse was racing now as the conversation came back to her. “He asked if I was a TV or print reporter.”
Mays looked at Hull. “Maybe he wanted to know if she had a cameraman with her.”
“What did he look like?” Hull asked.
Karly took a deep breath. “Average, really. Medium height. Medium build. He had dark hair cut really short. Almost military-length.”
Mays was scribbling in her notepad now. “Race?”
“White, although he was tan. And he seemed like he spent a lot of time outdoors.”
Mays glanced up from her notes. “Why do you say that?”
“He seemed pretty built. You know, athletic.”
“Nationality? Accent?”
“American, I think. At least, he sounded American.”
Another look between Mays and Hull. Then Hull reached into his briefcase and started poking through another file.
“Could this be him?” The agent slid a paper in front of her. On it was a black-and-white photo of a man on a crowded city sidewalk. He wore a baseball cap and sunglasses, and it was nearly impossible to see his face.
“Who is this?” Karly looked at Hull.
“I’m asking you. Could this be the man you met as Tom Green?”
Karly studied the picture again. She couldn’t tell much from the grainy photo. The low-res image looked like it might have come from surveillance footage. “I don’t know.” She pushed the paper away. “There’s so little detail here. I can’t even see his face, really.”
“Could it be the man you met at the resort?” Hull persisted.
“I guess it could. It could be a lot of people.” She looked at Mays. “That photograph was taken in Thailand. I can tell from the street signs.”
She waited for Mays to respond, but the agent just stared at her.
“Who is this guy?” Karly asked again.
“We don’t know,” Mays said. “We wish we did.”
“Several of our sources told us about him,” Hull said. “We don’t know who he is, only what he does.”
“And what does he do?”
Mays hesitated, as if deciding how much she wanted to reveal. “We believe he’s an American who may have traveled to Syria and trained with ISIS. Now he’s working with the ACB.” She paused. “We think he coordinated the nightclub bombing in Bangkok.”
“And he’s American?”
“We believe so. But we don’t have an ID,” Hull said. “He’s known to us only as Mr. X.”
Karly looked down at the picture again, trying to reconcile the laid-back travel writer with this man who might have helped blow up dozens of innocent people at a club. She tried to imagine how the man who’d invited her to go diving could have helped orchestrate ten ruthless killings the very same day. She thought of Brad and Brianna being mowed down by gunfire, and she started to feel queasy.
“You say he sounded American,” Mays continued. “Any accent you noticed? Southern? Midwestern? Anything?”
Karly shook her head.
Mays checked her watch, and Karly realized the interview had lasted quite a while.
“We need you to come into the office with us,” Mays said.
“What, you mean now?”
“That’s right. We’re going to need you to look at mug shots, see if we might get an ID on this guy.”
“But—”
“It’s important.” Mays stood up, followed by Hull.
“Does it have to be right this minute? I’ve got an appointment at eight, and I’m already running late.”
“Definitely by noon.” Mays checked her watch again. “It will take us some time to get the photos lined up for you to go through, so late morning should work. Say, eleven o’clock?”
Karly was on her feet now, feeling like her head was going to explode. “I’ll do my best.”
“Please do.” Mays flipped shut her notepad and looked Karly in the eye. “This is high priority.”
“I get that.”
Karly led them to the door and opened it. Hull stepped out.
“Give us a minute,” Mays told him. She eased the door shut and turned to Karly. “How are you doing? Are you okay?”
“No.”
“Right. Bad question.” Mays looked at her with concern. “Did you call that counselor I recommended?”
“Actually, I did.” Karly cleared her throat. “Thank you.”
Despite her tough demeanor, Agent Mays had a heart, and after their initial interview, she’d pulled Karly aside to recommend a therapist.
“I really hate to bring you back into this,” Mays said now, “and we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”
“I appreciate that.”
The agent nodded and pulled the door open again, then stepped outside to join her partner.
“If this man you met is our Mr. X, then he’s been involved in multiple deadly attacks, and what our sources have told us about him is proving true,” Mays said. “Which means the rest of what we’ve heard about him could also be true—namely, that he has an American passport. It’s imperative that we ID him.”
Karly stared at her, absorbing the implications. “You’re worried he’s planning something more?”
“Based on the intel we have, yes.”
A chill snaked down Karly’s spine.
“We think he’s planning something big,” Hull told her.
“Not only that,” Mays said. “We think he’s planning something here.”
NINE
* * *
Crack.
The balls shot apart, careening against the sides of the table. Ethan’s game was usually more about finesse than power, but tonight he was on edge.
“Stripes,” he said, then proceeded to sink another two before turning things over to Lucas.
Four times Ethan had called Karly since he’d come home Saturday. She’d ignored all four calls.
He wasn’t used to getting the brush-off. He could handle it, but it sure as hell wasn’t the norm. Not that every woman he ever picked up on spent the night with him. But when he did sleep with someone, she tended to return his calls.
Not just tended to—it always happened. It was a point of pride with him. Women called him back, without exception.
Except for Karly.
Ethan swigged his beer as Lucas l
ined up a combination shot. Jake was watching him closely from the other side of the table, but Ethan ignored him. Jake knew he was having a bad night. And he knew why. Jake had been there on base Saturday when Ethan pulled up the Pacifica website on his phone.
“Son of a bitch,” he’d said.
“What?”
“They’re in San Diego.”
“Who’s in San Diego?” Jake had stowed his gear in his locker and walked over to look at Ethan’s phone.
“Karly’s magazine. They’re in San Diego, not Los Angeles.”
Which meant Karly was in San Diego, not Los Angeles. Which meant she was just across the bridge from the naval base. She had to know the West Coast SEALs were stationed on Coronado. It was common knowledge. And she lived right here. They’d spent an entire night together, so why hadn’t she mentioned it?
Probably because they’d been too busy having the hottest sex of his life. Her life, too, he’d be willing to bet. It had been mind-blowing, and there hadn’t been a lot of energy left over for conversation.
But what about later?
He remembered slowly waking in the cocoon of her hotel sheets with his arms wrapped around her. He remembered holding her against him as the room went from black to gray. And when he hadn’t been able to put it off a minute longer, he’d slipped out of bed and pulled his clothes on and kissed her, and she’d told him good-bye. Not here’s my number, call me. Not look me up if you’re in town. Just . . . good-bye.
Ethan blasted a ball across the table but failed to sink anything.
Lucas grinned. “Nice, bro.”
Jake sipped his beer, eyeing Ethan over the bottle. “So where’s Karly tonight?” he asked.
Ethan shrugged.
“That’s it? Aren’t you going to see her?”
Ethan picked up his beer.
“She shut him down.”
Ethan glared at Lucas. “How the fuck would you know?”
“Because I know you called her earlier. And now you’re here with us.”
Lucas missed his shot, and Ethan took over, making an effort this time so he wouldn’t completely embarrass himself.
Lucas had a point.
Four ignored messages was pretty much a shutdown. She didn’t want him. Yeah, she’d wanted him in that hotel room as they’d burned through his supply of condoms. But that was a one-off thing, never to be repeated. It was all about circumstance. Adrenaline. That utter fear that came over you when you were inches from death. And the overwhelming relief that came afterward.
Ethan had saved her life. She’d been shocked and grateful and hyped up on adrenaline, so she’d slept with him because she thought she owed him.
Guilt needled him. Maybe he’d manipulated her into doing something she never would have done otherwise. Maybe he’d taken advantage.
No, he had taken advantage. He’d known it at the time, and he knew it right now. And now that she was back on her feet and no longer vulnerable, she wanted to stay away from him.
Ethan missed another shot. Frustration churned in his gut as he stood back and watched Lucas clean up the table.
She was definitely giving him the brush-off.
And he shouldn’t be surprised.
Karly was smart. Successful. Because of her job, she hung out with artists and celebrities and political hotshots like Anthony Mancuso. Tony. What did she want with someone like Ethan besides what they’d already done?
As subtly as possible, he checked his phone, as if a message might randomly appear without his noticing. Nope. Still no messages. Which was sending him a message loud and clear.
Okay, but what about this morning? What about that random hang-up call from a San Diego area code?
It was Karly. He knew it in his bones. She’d reached out to him and then changed her mind. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
Ethan pictured her in that hotel bed and felt a warm shot of lust. He pictured her sleepy eyes as she’d gazed up at him and said good-bye. She’d traced her finger over his scratches, the ones she’d made when she was clinging to him. Then she’d kissed them. She’d kissed her way over his arm, his palm, his fingertips, all the while looking at him with those beautiful brown eyes. Who had ever looked at him that way, or kissed him like that? She’d kissed him like she felt something. Something more than lust and temporary attraction. Something real.
Lucas tapped in a solid. Ethan drained his beer.
Two nights left. And he was wasting one of them at a dive bar with a bunch of guys he saw every day.
Ethan plunked his bottle on the table. “I’m out, man.”
“I knew it,” Jake said with a smile.
“What? Where you going?” Lucas asked. “We said best two out of three.”
“Sorry.” Ethan headed for the door without looking back.
He needed to see her. He needed to look her in the eye and make sure she meant it, make sure she hadn’t spent the last five weeks in hell, as he had, dreaming about everything they’d done together and agonizing over the thought of it being a onetime thing. He wanted more. He wanted her.
Ethan pushed through the door and stood outside the bar. He checked his watch. Glancing up at the moon, he thought of the same moon shining down on him and Karly on that balcony.
God, he missed her. And she was here somewhere, only minutes away from him right now. The thought of gearing up and getting on a plane without seeing her again made it hard for him to breathe.
He had to find her. Tonight. He could take no for an answer, as much as it pained him. But she was going to have to tell him to his face.
* * *
Karly felt someone reading over her shoulder.
“That’s my pet peeve,” she said, “and I’ve been known to bite.”
“Hey, chill out.”
She turned to see Drew standing behind her. He had his press pass around his neck and his camera bag slung over his shoulder.
“You coming or going?” she asked.
“Going. I’ve got that club opening in Beverly Hills.”
“That’s tonight?”
“Yep. It’s going to be big. You wouldn’t believe the guest list.”
“I saw it.”
“You can come as my date if you want.”
“Thanks, but I’m still working on this article.” She returned her attention to her computer screen, where the paragraph she’d rewritten six times was still taunting her.
“You know, they called me back in today.”
“Who called you?” Karly looked at him, and the answer was written all over his face.
“Mays and Hull. They wanted me to bring in my camera.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah, sure. It’s not like I’m going to refuse to help the FBI hunt down some dirtbag terrorist.”
Karly glanced around the bullpen, but it was almost empty. Most everyone had gone home for the day. “And? Did they find anything? Or anyone?”
“I don’t think so. They were hoping I might have gotten a photo of this guy they’re looking for, maybe just in the background of one of my shots. They didn’t tell me what they found, but they seemed disappointed.”
Karly sighed.
“Hey, I need to get going. Sure you don’t want to take the night off and come with me?” He looked her over. “You look hot in those skintight jeans.”
Karly considered the offer. Her black silk cami and jeans would definitely work, and her jewelry was trendy. But the thought of spending the night schmoozing with people put a knot in her stomach. “I’ll pass.”
Drew stared at her.
“What?”
“It’s not like you to miss a good party. This thing’s A-list. You might land your next cover story.”
“Thanks, but I’m tired tonight.”
A beat of understanding passed betwee
n them. He knew.
“Don’t stay too late.” He squeezed her shoulder. “You should head home and take it easy.”
“I was just about to pack up.”
Karly returned her attention to her screen, pretending to be engrossed in her work when really she was thinking about Drew. And Jana. And basically everyone who had been treating her differently since she’d returned home. Drew, in particular, was being way too nice, which didn’t make sense, because he’d survived the same thing she had. Well, almost. Being rounded up at gunpoint and spending seven hours as a hostage was a bit different from what she’d experienced, but still. It had been harrowing for both of them, and yet Drew had come right home and gotten back into his groove.
Karly logged off her computer and packed up for the night. She’d take her laptop home, and maybe it would be easier to work there. Maybe if she wasn’t surrounded by the trappings of the job she no longer cared about, she wouldn’t feel so much pressure.
She zipped her notes into her computer bag and grabbed her blazer off the back of the chair. She noticed the light on in her publisher’s office, so she went the long way around the bullpen to avoid passing directly in front of the door.
Jana leaned her head out. “Hey, don’t leave yet. We need to talk to you a sec.”
Nerves fluttered in Karly’s stomach as she approached the publisher’s office. Jana smiled and ushered her inside.
“Long afternoon?” Jana asked.
Her editor knew she’d spent most of it at the FBI field office, although Karly hadn’t told her anything about what she’d been doing there. Jana was a newshound, and she’d definitely smell a scoop.
“Karly, have a seat,” Josh said, nodding at an empty chair opposite his desk.
Karly sat down, settling her computer bag on her lap. She didn’t want to be here long.
As opposed to Jana’s desk, Josh’s was devoid of newspapers and notepads and empty coffee cups. It was the desk of an executive, not a writer. Karly darted a glance at the wall beside her, where she saw a framed photo of Josh standing alongside a former California governor.
She looked at Josh and forced a smile, although her stomach was quickly filling with dread. “So. How are you?” she said. Great. What an original lead.
Cover of Night Page 10
