She remembered Lauren had been in the bullpen when Gordon summoned her into Maxwell’s office. “It’s a temporary assignment,” Elizabeth told her. “It’s not like a promotion or anything.”
Lauren snorted. “You wait. I hear they’re staffing up his whole department in D.C.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“Around. Just don’t forget the little people, okay?”
Score. She found a chipped ibuprofen at the bottom of her makeup bag. She popped the pill and grabbed one of the cups beside the sink to guzzle some water.
“Don’t forget the venti lattes, the swapped shifts—”
“Give me a break.”
“—the cheeseburger Happy Meals hand-delivered to your car while you were on stakeout.”
Elizabeth slipped off her heels and tossed them beside her suitcase near the window.
“Seriously, I’m happy for you,” Lauren said. “Maxwell’s been riding you. You needed a change.”
“It’s temporary.”
“Well, do a kick-ass job, and maybe it won’t be.”
A knock at the door had Elizabeth spinning around. She crossed the room with a flutter in her stomach and peered through the peephole.
For a moment she just stared. Square jaw, erect posture, ridiculously muscled body. In her memories, she’d made him less impressive, more average-looking. But of course, that was wishful thinking. There was nothing average about this man, and he was standing outside her hotel room, refusing to go away.
He looked directly at the peephole, and her heart skittered. He knew she was gawking. She pulled open the door, and her heart did another little dance. She’d forgotten his eyes, too—whiskey brown with gold flecks. The look in them now was pure determination.
God help her, he’d come here on a mission.
“Listen, Lauren, I have to go.”
She opened the door wider, and Derek stepped inside.
“See? It’s already happening,” Lauren quipped. “Catch you later.”
Elizabeth closed the door and tossed the phone onto the bed.
He wore a plain black T-shirt over faded jeans and scuffed brown cowboy boots that brought a fresh wave of memories. She lifted her gaze. His dark, longer-than-regulation-length hair curled at the nape of his neck, and his beard had to be going on day two.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi.”
“How’d you know where I was?”
“Asked around.” His gaze scanned the room and then settled back on her. He propped his shoulder against the wall. “What’s it been, a year?”
“Almost.”
“You don’t call, you don’t write.” A smile curved at the corner of his mouth. “How the hell you been, Liz?” The smile was teasing, but his tone was serious. He was taking her to task for pointedly ignoring the messages he’d left for her back in December.
“It’s been a busy year. I was assigned to a major case . . .” She let the thought trail off. He didn’t really want to hear about it, and she definitely didn’t want to tell him. “How are you?”
Dumb question—the man had just lost a close friend. But he shrugged it off. “Pretty hungry. We just finished a training op. Thought I’d stop by, see if you wanted to grab dinner.”
“Actually, I just ate.”
He eyed the PowerBar wrapper on the desk and lifted a brow. “Okay, how ’bout a drink, then?”
Temptation pulled at her. He probably thought she was being stuck-up, but that wasn’t it at all.
The truth was, he terrified her.
Since meeting him, she’d devoured everything she could get her hands on about Navy SEALs. She’d learned about their dangerous missions in hot spots around the globe. She’d learned they spent ten months a year away from home, either deployed or training. She’d learned they had big egos, and rightfully so. She’d also learned that they had groupies, women who flocked to bars near the bases, desperately hoping to get picked up.
Elizabeth’s stomach twisted as she looked up at him. Derek Vaughn was smart and confident and impossibly attractive to women who liked their men a little rough around the edges. But he knew it, too. And she couldn’t stand the thought of becoming one of those forgettable women. It was high on her list of Reasons Not to Go There.
Another reason was that she had a case to work, possibly the most important case of her career. And a muscle-bound SEAL with a sexy gleam in his eye was sure to be a huge distraction. Elizabeth felt incredibly lucky to have been picked for this assignment, and the last thing she wanted to do was slip up.
“Come on. Lemme take you out.” He stepped closer.
Her phone chimed, and she lunged for it. “LeBlanc.”
“You hear from Moore?” It was Jimmy Torres, who was staying in the room next door. Last time she’d seen him, he’d been on his way to dinner.
“I haven’t talked to him. Why?”
Derek sauntered around the room, pretending not to eavesdrop.
“He wants a meeting.”
“Now?”
“Five minutes, his suite,” he said. “Bring your laptop. And I need Potter’s number. I’m supposed to call him.”
She glanced at Derek, who stood beside the desk, where she’d spread out her files. She ducked into the bathroom and fished through her purse for the business card Potter had given her when they’d met. She rattled off the number as she returned to the bedroom and slipped back into her shoes.
“Okay, see you in a few.”
Derek was leaning over the desk now, unapologetically reading her files.
“This our guy?” He glanced up.
She eased closer to see the photo. He smelled like soap now instead of saltwater. He’d obviously cleaned up, and she felt a twinge of guilt for rejecting his dinner offer.
“Omar Rasheed. He’s from a wealthy family in Dubai.”
“He’s in the deck.” He tapped the photo and glanced at her. “The most-wanted terrorists. We call it the deck of cards. Who’s this?”
“Ahmed Rasheed,” she said, studying the picture. “Omar’s brother. He’s dead, though. Killed in a drone strike two years ago in Kunar Province, where he’d been meeting with Al Qaeda leaders.”
“Elizabeth.”
She glanced up, and the flirty look was gone now, replaced by utter seriousness.
“You want to tell me what you’re really doing here?”
“What do you mean?”
The way he held her gaze made her heart thud. She could tell by his expression that he already knew what she was going to say. So there was no use lying—not that she could get one past him, anyway.
She cleared her throat. “When Gordon told you Khalid had stopped talking, he was a little vague.”
Derek’s jaw tightened.
“He’s not talking because he’s no longer in custody.”
“Whose custody?”
“Anyone’s. We turned him over to the Afghans because he was wanted in connection with an attack in the capital. Two days later, he escaped.”
He tipped his head back. “Jesus Christ.”
“They’ve been searching for him, but no luck.”
“Yeah, don’t hold your breath on that. Those guys are so corrupt someone probably walked him right out the jail. What the fuck were they thinking turning him over?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did they at least question him first?”
“He wasn’t talking.”
Derek shook his head. “Unbelievable. The one living person we had in custody who could shed some light on this plot, and we let him go.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “We lost a man on that raid, Liz. He took a bullet loading out this intel.”
“I know.” She touched his arm. “And I’m so sorry. I—”
A rap at the door had her turning around. She glanced at Derek, then went to answer it.
It was Torres, wearing the rumpled remnants of his business suit and holding a McDonald’s cup.
“You ready?” He gl
anced past her, and his expression darkened.
“I’m coming.” She scooped up her computer bag, then gathered the files from under Derek’s nose and slipped them in with her laptop.
Derek took his cue to leave.
“Sorry I can’t talk more,” she said, stepping out of the room. “We’ll catch up later, maybe? After this case.”
He eyed her computer bag, then looked at Torres. “Yeah, good luck with that. You guys have your work cut out for you.”
* * *
Stepping into Gordon’s suite, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed. Big surprise. Whether it was anger or frustration or simple nerves, Derek always managed to stir up her emotions. Had Torres noticed? How could he not? And what did he think about finding her alone in her hotel room with one of the SEALs they’d come to interview?
Maybe she should strike up a conversation and mention that she’d met Derek the previous summer. But it was really none of his business. The main person whose opinion she cared about was Gordon, and he was well aware that she knew Derek, because he’d been in charge of the murder investigation in which Derek’s SEAL teammate was a suspect.
Everyone was gathered around a table, and Elizabeth claimed a chair beside one of the Washington agents, Gordon’s expert in all things technical. He had his laptop open and looked to be setting up a secure Internet connection. He glanced at Gordon.
“We’re good to go, sir.”
Gordon scooted his chair forward. “Okay, some new developments. First, you’ve all been sent an e-mail from our team at headquarters, which has been working on visuals of Rasheed.”
Elizabeth booted up her computer. Her colleagues were doing the same. The group Gordon had picked to accompany him to California was a mere fraction of the group he had working on the case. Most of the others were back in Houston, the presumed site of the intended attack.
“They’ve created these pictures to show you how he might look with an altered appearance,” Gordon said, “which we can assume he’d need to get through immigration.”
She clicked open the attachment to find a clean-shaven, Americanized version of the missing terrorist. He was shown with various looks: bald, long-haired, with glasses, without glasses. One version even showed him with a false nose.
“This wouldn’t really cut it, though, right?”
Elizabeth glanced at Torres, who was studying the pictures on his screen.
“You’re right,” Gordon told him. “Our facial-recognition software is designed to see past simple disguises and even plastic surgery. It’s based on distance between pupils, earlobes, nostrils—physical characteristics that are nearly impossible to change. Which brings us to our next problem.”
Elizabeth held her breath as Gordon scanned the faces around the room.
“Our techs have been busy analyzing the laptop recovered by the SEALs, and they discovered a fingerprint we can’t identify. It doesn’t belong to Rasheed, and it also doesn’t match any of the kidnappers taken out during the raid.”
“What about Khalid?” Elizabeth asked.
He shook his head. “Not a match.”
“What about someone who could have handled the computer casually?” Torres asked. “Maybe when it was sitting around.”
“This isn’t just a casual fingerprint,” Gordon said. “This laptop was equipped with a biometric fingerprint pad. It was programmed to recognize two separate prints: Rasheed’s and this person we’re calling Tango Two.”
Tango, as in military slang for terrorist. Elizabeth glanced around the room, wondering if everyone else caught the ominous implication.
“So I assume we ran this print through all our databases?” she asked.
Gordon nodded. “We ran it everywhere. No hits, which means we’re dealing with someone new. Which also means the odds of that person being in our faceprint database are much lower.”
“And the odds that he could slip into the U.S. undetected are much higher,” Elizabeth said.
“Exactly.”
“What about the computer’s previous owner?” Potter asked. “Didn’t your lab say this laptop was stolen?”
“Before turning up in Afghanistan, the laptop was in the possession of a tailor in Dubai. Which leads us to believe maybe Rasheed swiped it last time he was in his home country. Our techs recovered the erased files, and they all have to do with what appears to be a legitimate clothing business. Besides the deleted business records, we also found detailed plans for three Al Qaeda attacks: the UN convoy and two bombings in Kabul. But that’s it. All the information pertains to attacks that have already happened.”
Elizabeth made a few notes on her pad. “What about e-mails?”
“No e-mails on the system,” Gordon said. “Looks like it wasn’t used for outside communication.”
“Any prints on the thumb drive?” Torres asked.
“Only Rasheed’s. It contains the video clip showing Ana Hansson’s execution.”
A sour taste rose in Elizabeth’s throat. She’d seen the footage and hoped to God the girl’s family never got a look at it.
“Maybe the surviving hostages know something,” she suggested.
“The doctor doesn’t. Hailey Gardner had more interaction with the kidnappers but insists she only saw four different people—Khalid, Omar Rasheed, and two of the guards who were killed during the raid.”
Interaction. What a way to put it.
“Someone should talk to her again,” Elizabeth said. “Wasn’t she drugged part of the time? Maybe she’s remembered more since her last interview.”
Gordon tapped his pencil against the table, watching her. “She’s in seclusion. She was being hounded by the press, so her parents sent her away somewhere and announced that all future interview requests must go through their family lawyer.”
“Even us?”
“Even us.”
That didn’t mean they didn’t know her whereabouts. Elizabeth had no doubt the Bureau knew precisely where she was. But it still might be tricky to talk to her.
“What about those names the SEALs had?” Torres asked.
“Dead ends,” Potter said. “Just as they suspected. Looks like Khalid made up info to get them off his back.”
“This whole trip has been a dead end.” Torres folded his arms over his chest. “Five agents all the way out here, and what do we have to show for it?” He shook his head. “The SEALs don’t know anything. The hostages aren’t talking. This has been a waste of time.”
Elizabeth looked at Gordon. As usual, his face gave nothing away. But he didn’t look like a man who thought he’d wasted two days of his valuable time. He had a good reason for bringing them out here. Elizabeth just hadn’t figured out what it was.
Chapter Four
Derek slid into the passenger seat and was greeted with a yelp.
“God, you scared me!”
“Look alive, LeBlanc. No sleeping on the job.”
Not that she looked like she’d been sleeping—on the job or anywhere else. She looked exhausted, from her wilted suit and tired eyes to the little tendrils of hair that had slipped from her ponytail and clung to her damp neck.
Actually, the tendrils looked good. Sexy, even. Although it would have been a lot sexier if her skin had been damp from burning up the sheets with him and not from sitting in a rental car in the Arizona heat.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, obviously rattled.
“Oh, you know. Passing through town.”
“How’d you get this address?”
“SEALs are a pretty smart bunch, Liz. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
She looked through the windshield at the lush green golf course where Hailey Gardner’s parents kept a condominium. “I thought you were going on leave this week.”
“I am. Headed back to Texas to visit the famdamnly.” He turned the key in the ignition and buzzed his window down. “As luck would have it, Scottsdale’s on the way.”
She shifted i
n her seat to face him, evidently coming around to the idea that he wasn’t going anywhere. “What is it you want with Hailey?”
“Same thing you want. I think she knows something.” He looked her over again, trying hard not to stare. She’d stashed her suit jacket in the backseat and undone the first few buttons of her shirt in a futile effort to cool off.
She looked amazingly tempting, like she’d stepped right out of one of the dreams he’d been having. During his last tour, he’d had some downtime and he’d spent a good bit of it fantasizing about getting Elizabeth LeBlanc out of those tailored suits.
“Have to say, I’m a little disappointed,” he said. “Thought you’d be happier to see me.”
She ignored that. “Hailey’s in seclusion. All interviews go through the lawyer, and he’s being an ass.”
“There’s a shocker.”
She sighed and looked out at the perfectly manicured golf course.
Derek hadn’t seen green like that in months, so bright it made his eyes hurt. He looked at Elizabeth instead. “If the lawyer’s being an ass, then why are you here?”
“Gordon thought she might open up with me.”
“Because you’re a woman.”
“I don’t know, maybe.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Probably.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“She left home a few hours ago. I’m hoping to catch her when she comes back.”
“Five minutes.”
“What?”
“She went to a yoga class that ended at seven. She should be back in five.” He grabbed the water bottle from the console and twisted the top off. Elizabeth stared at him. “I did some recon earlier,” he said.
“Derek, this is an official interview. I cannot allow you in there with me.”
Cannot allow. He smiled and reached over to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “I ever tell you I love it when you get bossy?”
“You’re not part of this case.”
He chugged some water and glanced at the side mirror as a white Prius zipped past them. It swung into the driveway, and Hailey Gardner got out. She wore stretchy black pants and a matching top and had her hair pulled up in a ponytail. Dark sunglasses covered her face, probably in case some enterprising reporter managed to find out that her family had a second home in Scottsdale. Derek eyed the cast on her wrist and wondered how she managed the yoga with it. She dug some keys from her purse and disappeared inside the condo.
Beyond Limits Page 4
