Single Malt

by Layla Reyne

  Rounding the corner, Aidan pushed back his coat and placed his hand over his sidearm, prepared to draw if necessary.

  “How long have you and Jamie been partners?” Torres asked behind him, giving away their presence to anyone hiding there.

  Finding the side path empty but for more piles of junk and plywood, Aidan held in the simmering diatribe. He wasn’t here to mentor Torres, and he didn’t think the other agent would take it well. The job didn’t seem to be his primary focus.

  “How long, Agent Talley?” he asked again, proving Aidan’s point.

  “Three weeks tomorrow.” Aidan glanced through the first window along the side of the house.

  Just the other side of the living room.

  Moving on, he walked carefully along the crumbling cement, watching for snakes and other critters hiding under the scattered piles of junk.

  “Only three weeks? Really?”

  “Yes, really.” Aidan bypassed the narrow frosted bathroom window and focused on the last window ahead.

  “I would have thought longer.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “You two seem...” He paused, in speech and in motion, and so did Aidan, waiting for him to finish. “Connected. I didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes.”

  “Working together?”

  “Sleeping together.”

  Aidan’s brows raced north. “Excuse me?”

  “I want to sleep with Jamie, but I didn’t know if you two were more than work partners.”

  He’d suspected as much about Torres’s intentions. He did not expect him to come right out and say it, though. He also didn’t expect the near uncontrollable urge to strangle him. For everyone’s benefit, Aidan crossed his arms and throttled the instinct to strike.

  “How do you know Walker would be interested in sleeping with you? He could have a wife and kids at home.”

  Torres flashed a knowing smile. “Come on, Agent Talley. You’ve been working this job long enough to know appearances can be deceiving.”

  He held the other man’s stare but didn’t answer. How had Torres picked up, in two days, that Walker was gay when he’d been so oblivious?

  “The path’s clear, then?” Torres asked.

  “I’m not going to comment on my partner’s love life, other than to say it’s Bureau policy to discourage fraternization.”

  “Discourage, not prohibit.”

  Rather than arguing semantics, Aidan turned back to the last window.

  Another deserted space, this one a bedroom. Queen bed neatly made, heavy wood furniture, another older television, likewise all collecting dust. Bending, Aidan adjusted his view and the sun streaming in over his shoulder glinted off something shiny in the far right corner. A tall silver pole, a hook at the top, a stand with four wheels at the bottom—an IV hanger. This must have been Emily’s father’s room, before he’d been moved into assisted living.

  Straightening, Aidan backed away from the window and continued around the corner to the backyard.

  Torres cleared the corner behind him. “Good thing I won’t be with the Bureau much longer then.”

  Aidan rocked to a spinning stop. “How’s that?”

  Before the other agent could answer, a screen door screeched open and Aidan pulled his gun.

  On his partner.

  “Fucking hell, Whiskey! A little warning next time.” He shoved his sidearm back into its holster, as Walker descended the back stoop. “How’d you get in?”

  “I knocked and the door opened. Guess it wasn’t shut all the way.”

  Aidan’s gaze shot to Torres. “I thought you said you knocked.”

  “I did,” Torres replied, as Gary and Barnes rounded the opposite corner.

  “She left in a hurry.” Gary removed his cowboy hat and wiped his sweat-drenched brow. “Drawers and closet doors in the bedroom on our side were flung open, clothes and other personal items spilling out.”

  “Our side was clean,” Torres said. “Unused living room and guest room. Couldn’t see in the frosted bathroom window.”

  Gary headed toward the back door. “Let’s take a closer look.”

  As Torres passed, Aidan grabbed him by the arm, holding him back as Barnes and Walker followed the SAC inside. “What was that about leaving the FBI? Does Gary know?”

  “He knows.” Torres wrenched his arm free. “One of our former agents opened a private security firm last year. I’m done at the end of the month. Gary’s scouting Jamie as my replacement. I sure wouldn’t mind having him here.” The last was said with a leer that made Aidan want to reach for his sidearm again.

  What the fuck? Did Mel know about this? He had zero interest in mentoring an agent—one he had to spend an inordinate amount of time resisting—who would be gone in less than a month. One case did not a lesson make. Aidan added a call to Mel to his to-do list.

  Marching up the steps, he ignored a wary glance from Walker.

  “Dave confirmed she worked her entire twelve-hour shift yesterday,” Walker said, as they joined Gary and Torres in Emily’s crowded bedroom. “She called in sick today.”

  “So she split this morning?” Torres said.

  “Maybe she had a reason to head out of town.” Barnes entered from the connected bathroom. “A trip scheduled? Toothbrush and toiletries are gone.”

  Aidan opened the drawers of the bedside table closest to him. Both were empty. He rounded the end of the bed, crossing in front of Walker, who asked, “What are you looking for?”

  Opening the top drawer of the table on the other side of the bed, he found it.

  He pulled a roughed-up older-model tablet from the drawer and handed it to Walker. “Think you can find something on here?”

  “I’m offended you have to ask.”

  “Just do it.”

  Walker flinched at the harsh tone and Aidan instantly regretted it. A few taps later, Walker handed the tablet back, calendar app opened. “No trips scheduled this weekend.”

  “I’ll get an APB out right away,” Gary said.

  “As of right now, Emily Richards is our prime suspect.” Digging his keys out of his pocket, Aidan tossed them to Walker. “Go back to the condo and handcuff yourself to the computer. I want everything you can find on her.” Next, he turned to Barnes and Torres. “You two, she’s got a father in assisted living in Houston. Get up there and find out when’s the last time she visited, and interview him and anyone else she regularly interacted with.” Last, he addressed Gary. “After you call in that APB, let’s canvass the area. See if anyone saw her come home this morning or if she left direct from GNL.”

  They all nodded, but no one moved.

  “Let’s go, people!” He clapped his hands together and everyone broke into action. He was following the local agents out when Walker blocked the doorway.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Fine,” Aidan snapped.

  Walker narrowed his eyes, not buying it one bit.

  Had it really only been three weeks together? No matter how in sync they were, though, this partnership likely had a shelf life, according to Torres. Another reason not to get attached. Another reason to move ahead with his plan.

  “You have a job to do, Agent Walker. Or do you need me to make that an order?”

  “Unnecessary, Agent Talley.”

  Aidan hated the chill in Walker’s voice, hated this plan of his. Pocketing the keys, Walker tucked Emily’s tablet under his arm, turned on his heel, and exited with frightening rigidity, Torres’s eyes on him the entire way.

  Aidan might hate his plan, but it was working.

  * * *

  Darkness hung heavy over the coast when Aidan returned to the condo, entering to the sound of relaxed male voices and the enticing aroma of mole. At the far end of the dining t
able, heads together, Walker and Torres were laughing over something. Neither of them acknowledged his presence.

  Entering the kitchen from the laundry room, he surprised the other agents when he flipped the kitchen overheads on and tossed his suit coat across the bar onto a stool. “This doesn’t look like ‘handcuffed to the computer.’”

  Exhaustion was written all over his partner, from the wrinkled dress shirt and suit pants to his sagging shoulders and bloodshot eyes.

  “Oscar brought over dinner. Oaxacan mole.” Walker’s false enthusiasm was obvious to Aidan, but judging by Torres’s wide smile and his knee brushing Walker’s under the table, the other agent hadn’t noticed.

  “The real deal,” Torres said. “From a hole-in-the-wall joint only locals know about.”

  “There’s plenty left for you,” Walker said, before he turned back to Torres, lowering his head and voice so Aidan wouldn’t hear their conversation.

  Aidan bypassed the open containers of food on the kitchen island in favor of a beer. He popped the cap and took a long swallow of citrusy pale ale. “I’m going to change. When I get back, I want to hear what you’ve found, and it better be more than Agent Torres’s favorite food joints.”

  Walker didn’t bother to look up, just waved a dismissive hand in the air. They were a long way from this morning’s supersonic hedgehog who’d eaten out of his hand. No better at weathering that depressing thought, Aidan set his beer on the end of the bar and headed to his room, leaving the door cracked behind him.

  A chair scraped back from the table. “I’m going to go,” Torres said. “Unless you want me to stay.”

  A second chair slid back. “No, I’ve got it. Thank you, for everything.”

  Not wanting to contemplate everything, Aidan tuned out the rest of their goodbye. Undressing, he pitched his dirty clothes into the hamper hard enough to tip the wicker basket over. He was angry, irrationally so. He had no claim over Walker. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, pursue a relationship with him. And he’d been the one to put this particular quarrel in motion, without getting the go-ahead. Walker didn’t deserve to be the target of his anger. Aidan was sure he’d done the work requested, and by the look of things between Walker and Torres, he’d also run with the plan Aidan hadn’t explained. Walker wasn’t the problem; Aidan was. The threads of his personal and professional life were winding themselves together faster than he could untangle them.

  Aidan pulled on a T-shirt and jeans and slipped his feet into his flops. When he reemerged from his bedroom, Walker stood with a shoulder leaning against the open balcony doorjamb. “You want to tell me what that was all about?” he said.

  Aidan grabbed his plate from the fridge and popped it in the microwave. “What do you think that was all about?”

  “You suspect someone in the field office. You want them to think we’re not getting along, so they’ll try to divide and conquer and in doing so, show their hand.”

  Walker was better than good, and not just with computers. His field instincts so far had been spot-on, as had his ability to slide fluidly into a new partnership. The tension in Aidan’s back eased and he favored his partner with a tired smile. “You catch on fast.”

  “I also think it’s about you acting like a jealous prick.”

  Spot-on instincts indeed.

  Their gazes locked, sparked, only disconnecting when the microwave chimed. “I wasn’t sure who was on the take. I’m thinking Torres.” Aidan retrieved his food. “He knew that door was unlocked, he’s a sloppy investigator, and he’s leaving the Bureau at the end of the month.”

  “Where’s he going?”

  “Private security. Gary wants you to replace him.”

  Walker collapsed like an extra-long noodle in the chair at the head of the table. His long legs stretched to the side, bare ankles crossed, and his equally long arms dangled over the armrests, fingers skirting the floor. “Did Cruz know about that?”

  “I called her on the way here. She claims not to.”

  “You don’t believe her.”

  “Until I look her in the eyes, I can’t be sure.” Aidan grabbed his beer bottle from the bar and took a seat at the opposite end of the table by Walker’s disarrayed files and laptop. He beckoned with a tilt of his head. “Come show me what you’ve found on Emily.”

  Walker looked for a moment like he might challenge the request, having just situated himself, but he wasn’t in any more of a mood to fight than Aidan after a long afternoon of playing at it. Pushing out of his chair, he moved in front of his computer and handed Aidan a red folder.

  Aidan set aside his fork and skimmed the first few pages of the file. “This is a dossier on a different Emily Richards. What’s she got to do with our Emily?”

  “This—” Walker pointed at the file in his hands “—is Jo Ann Richmond’s alias.”

  “Who’s Jo Ann Richmond?”

  “Our Emily.” He handed over Barnes’s original green file on Emily. It was substantially thicker than it had been this morning, supplemented with financial history, credit card usage, and travel activity for two persons. Stapled on the inside left cover was a picture of two young women in green graduation gowns, so similar in appearance—straight blond hair, lightly freckled, tan skin, green eyes—that anyone would mistake them as sisters, twins even. Aidan picked up the red file again, flipping pages until he found the inevitable.

  A death certificate.

  “She covered her tracks incredibly well,” Walker said. “GNL security didn’t find it. I didn’t find it on the first pass either.”

  “What about Emily’s father in the nursing home? I thought she was in debt up to her eyeballs caring for him.”

  “She is, but that man, Dale Richards, is the real Emily Richards’s father.”

  “And he didn’t recognize his own daughter? Or rather her imposter?”

  “For all intents and purposes, Jo Ann is also his daughter. She was a foster kid who met Emily Richards in grade school. They were alphabet buddies, last names so close they were always seated next to each other. They became best friends, and she spent all her time with Emily’s family. She must have made Emily a promise to care for him, if something ever happened to her.”

  “In exchange for Emily’s identity?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Maybe she was just doing her best friend a favor.”

  “That’s an awfully big favor.”

  “Assuming Emily’s identity made taking responsibility for Mr. Richards easier. They relocated from New Orleans five years ago. When she couldn’t care for him any longer, Jo Ann moved him into the assisted care facility. There are more details in the file.” Walker closed his laptop, pushed it forward, and propped his elbows on the table, hanging his head in his hands and rubbing his temples.

  Standing, Aidan gathered his plate and empty bottle in one hand and laid his other on Walker’s shoulder. “Good work, Whiskey.”

  Walker smiled, tired but true. “Thanks, Irish.” He moved to stand, and Aidan pressed down, keeping him seated.

  “Two minutes,” he said, and Walker nodded, closing his eyes.

  In the kitchen, Aidan dumped his plate in the sink and grabbed several items from the pantry and fridge. “I met with Jake again this afternoon.” He mixed chocolate, cinnamon and milk in a ceramic mug.

  “Twitchy fella, isn’t he?”

  Aidan chuckled. “Good to know it wasn’t just me.” He put the mug in the microwave and zapped it for a minute.

  “Did you find out what was going on between him and Emily?”

  “She was on duty, but she wasn’t there when the breach occurred.”

  “Where was she?”

  “He thought she was taking an emergency call about her father. He didn’t tell us earlier because he didn’t want to get her in trouble.”

  “Did he know who she
might be sleeping with?”

  “He’d hoped it would be him. He liked her. I suspect the ‘Alone’ you mentioned was for his benefit, especially if she needed him to cover for her.” He pulled the mug out of the microwave and stirred its contents.

  Walker shook his head. “I didn’t get that from her. I think there’s someone else.”

  By now, Aidan knew not to doubt Walker’s instincts. “We’ll look into it.” He pushed the steaming mug under the younger man’s nose. “Drink that.”

  “What is it?”

  “Mexican Hot Chocolate.”

  He took a careful sip and made a sound in the back of his throat that sent Aidan to the kitchen for a double shot of Maker’s.

  Walker smiled over his shoulder. “It’s good.”

  “It’s even better with coffee, but you’re cut off for the night.”

  Sliding into the chair next to him, Aidan enjoyed the peaceful sights and sounds of the ocean as he sipped his bourbon. After a while, the mug teetered in Walker’s hand, his eyelids closing and his head bobbing in semi-sleep. Aidan eased the mug from Walker’s hand, causing him to jerk awake.

  “Sorry. Must have dozed off a minute.” He stood and began stacking the files. “I’ll keep digging.”

  Aidan grabbed Walker’s wrist, halting his actions. “You’ll go to sleep is what you’ll do. You’re dead on your feet.”

  “But we’re back to square one.”

  “No, we’re not.” He tapped Jo Ann’s file. “This woman’s involved, somehow. She’s our in. You’re running more searches?”

  “Always running searches.”

  “We’ll follow those leads in the morning.” Aidan squeezed then released his wrist. “After you sleep.”

  Walker chuckled. “Okay, boss.”

  “You did good today. Getting Kevin to cooperate, catching on to Operation Divide and Conquer—” that got him another laugh “—and uncovering what no one else did about Emily Richards.”

  “I learned a lot too. Good teacher.” He shuffled across the bamboo floors to his room, faltering over the threshold when Aidan called out, “Whiskey.”