"It would take us a few hours to get back to New York, and the place we were going to meet at would be closed by then. Plus, we need to be in New Haven in the morning. Another friend is going to meet him. Hopefully, she can get him to a safe place, and then we can figure out what's going on."
"What does that other line mean—about the team looking to trade Carter?"
"She's warning me that I'm under suspicion, probably because my car was found shot up at the cabin. They don't know whose side I'm on."
"Your decision to come looking for me has certainly complicated your life."
"Somehow, I always knew it would."
Their gazes clung for a long moment. Sophie swiped her dry lips with her tongue, which turned his body instantly hard.
He cleared his throat and looked back at the phone. "Anyway, there's nothing more to be done tonight."
"Getting back to your group," Sophie said. "It sounds like one of the members is a woman. I might be able to figure out who's in the group if I think about Jamie and his time at Quantico and who he talked about…"
"It's not worth expending your effort on that."
"Well, it's better than thinking about the fact that my dad called a meeting with an undercover agent, and he didn't show up, and then that agent was almost killed."
"We don't know why he didn't show up."
"What does your friend think?"
He didn't want to relate what Wyatt had said, not when he didn't know what was fact and what was theory, and especially not when Sophie's pain was so raw, the depth of her loss so deep. "I'm not sure."
"You said we weren't going to lie to each other, Damon. Does your friend think my dad was the mole?"
"He considered it to be a possibility," he said carefully.
She sucked in a breath. "I knew you were going to say that, but it's still not easy to hear."
"And we don't know if it's true."
"Someone killed my dad, so it doesn't sound like he was in charge of anything. Maybe he was a victim, too."
"That's a good possibility. We can speculate all we want, but we don't have enough facts to come to a conclusion."
She let out a frustrated sigh. "You're very logical, Damon."
"That usually works in my favor."
"I'm sure it does, but it's irritating at times."
"Because it makes me right more often than wrong?"
"And because it makes you cocky," she retorted. "But mostly because it makes me feel like I'm way out of my depth. I run on emotion; I always have. But all that emotion has landed me in the deep end of the pool. I'm treading water as fast as I can, but it wouldn't take much for me to drown. And sometimes I feel like it would be easier to let go."
He did not like that comment at all. "I'm not going to let you drown, Sophie. And you are not going to let go, because whether or not you run on emotion, you are a fighter. I've seen nothing but fight in you since we were at the cabin."
"I try to fight, but sometimes it feels futile. I watched my mother fight cancer. She battled for a long time, but she didn't win. I lost her when I was sixteen. And now I've lost my dad. I'm alone. And if that's not bad enough, there's a chance I'm going to find out that my father is not the man I thought he was. How can I lose faith in the most important person in my life in less than twenty-four hours?"
"No one is asking you to lose faith. Let's deal with the facts as they come."
She swallowed hard, her gaze still troubled. "What do you think, Damon? I know you liked him, respected him. Do you think my father did something wrong? Is there any way he could be a—traitor?"
Her question hit him hard. She was forcing him to look at something he didn't want to look at. "It would be very difficult for me to believe that," he said slowly. "I don’t see how Alan could sell out his country or a fellow agent. His life was the FBI."
"It was. He lived for his job," she agreed. "He was a patriot. He always talked about the importance of doing the right thing. Were those just empty words?"
He was a little surprised that she had as many doubts as she did about her father's innocence. "What aren't you telling me, Sophie?"
"Nothing."
"You just asked how you could lose faith in a person you'd loved your entire life in less than twenty-four hours, and I want to know the same thing. I don't think your doubts are based solely on what my undercover friend thinks about your dad, so what else is in play?"
He could see the conflict in her eyes, but finally she said, "On his voicemails, he kept apologizing, and he said something about not realizing he was down in the mud until it was too late. That makes it sound like he made a mistake; I just don't know how big a mistake it was. Obviously, it was big enough to get him killed." She got up from her chair and paced around the small room. "I wish I could listen to the voicemails again. Maybe I'm not remembering them clearly."
She paused in front of him, giving him a sad, helpless, frustrated look that made his heart flip over. He wanted to pull her into his arms. He wanted to tell her everything was going to be fine, that her father was not a bad guy, that they would find a way to prove that. But he didn't know if any of that was true. He'd already promised her he wouldn't lie to her. And he'd also promised himself that he wouldn't touch her.
"Maybe we should turn on the TV," he suggested.
"Really? That's all you have to say?"
"I don't know what else to say. I didn't hear the voicemails. You're feeding me piecemeal information. I have no idea if there's more you're holding back, since I still don't know where we're going tomorrow. I'm operating with less information than you are, unless you want to start sharing..."
Her mouth tightened. "Maybe we should turn the TV on. This conversation is going nowhere."
"It would go somewhere if you'd talk."
She walked over to the dresser and picked up the remote. Then she sat down on the bed and flipped through the channels.
"See if you can find some news," he said. "There might be an update on the investigation."
"We get like ten channels, Damon. You could have picked a better motel," she said grumpily.
He could have done a lot of things differently.
He looked back at his phone, as Bree answered his question: Coach's BFF and second are tight. Manager also angry about your actions. You might not keep your job if you stay away too long. Any idea who tried to strike you out?
He typed in an answer. "Didn't get a good look. More important things to worry about than job. Hope you can get Fernandez back on his game. Think there's a link between us. Let me know next practice time. Don't get yourself benched. Think we're going to need you."
* * *
Bree sat in her office cubicle Thursday evening and read Damon's message on her personal phone with a growing sense of uneasiness. After Damon's car had been located at a cabin in the Adirondacks, at a property purportedly owned by Alan Parker, a lot of questions had been raised about him. There had been a flurry of meetings, hushed conversations, and even a few suspicious looks sent in her direction, since several people knew that she and Damon were friends from Quantico.
If anyone asked, she could truthfully say that Damon had not told her of any plans to drive north when they'd spoken the night before. When he hadn't shown up for work or responded to a text about lunch, she'd assumed he'd gone off to find Wyatt. She'd certainly never anticipated he'd go looking for Sophie Parker.
She remembered seeing Sophie at Jamie's funeral. Jamie had mentioned Sophie a few times in conversation, referring to her as his nerdy but beautiful childhood friend, who was obsessed with digging for relics from the past. It was clear that there had been a deep affection between them, so deep she'd once felt a little jealous… How silly was that? She'd only been Jamie's girlfriend for about five minutes. In fact, she didn't know if Jamie had ever really thought of himself as her boyfriend.
She shook those disturbing thoughts out of her head, and brought her mind back to the present.
There was a connection
between Alan's death, Wyatt's attack, and Sophie's disappearance, and Damon had put himself in the middle of all three events. But now, with Damon laying low and Wyatt out of touch, it was on her to find out what was going on. If there was a traitor in the building, she needed to figure out who it was.
"Agent Adams?"
She looked up in surprise to see ASAC Karen Leigh standing by her desk. She'd had very little contact with Agent Leigh since she'd come to the New York field office three months earlier, because their teams rarely crossed paths. But Karen had an excellent reputation and was regarded as a rising star at the Bureau.
She got to her feet. "Agent Leigh, what can I do for you?"
"I'm going downstairs to get a coffee. Since we're both working late, I thought you might like to join me."
She could see by the purpose in Karen's eyes that it was more of an order than an invitation, not that she had to follow orders from Karen, but she was interested in what Karen had to say. "Of course. That sounds good. I can always use a shot of caffeine."
"Excellent."
They didn't speak on their way out of the offices or in the elevator to the first floor. When they got to the coffeehouse located in the lobby, they picked up their drinks and then took a seat at an isolated table against the wall.
She was actually happy to have coffee. She was still working on too little sleep from her last case, and she had a long night ahead of her.
"Have you heard from Damon?" Karen asked, not bothering with any polite chitchat.
"No, I haven't." She kept her expression neutral, her shoulders relaxed, her breath even. She'd taken enough polygraphs to know how to lie with the best of them. "Have you? I'm worried about him. I hope he's all right."
"I'm worried, too. Did he tell you he was going to look for Sophie Parker?"
"Is that what he was doing?" she countered.
"I would imagine so, since Alan owned the cabin in the Adirondacks where Damon's car was located," Karen said sharply.
"If you knew that Alan owned a cabin there, why didn't you send someone to the lake to look for Sophie? When I was in the office last night, it didn't appear that anyone had any idea where Sophie was. But a cabin owned by her father would seem to be a big lead."
She might be making a mistake to confront Karen, but she'd always been better at offense than defense.
"I didn't know about the cabin until the police notified us that Damon's car was found on the property," Karen replied. "It took us some time to dig through the property information to find the link to Alan. Apparently, Damon didn't need to do that, and I wonder why."
"Maybe Alan told him about the cabin," she suggested.
"Then Damon should have told us."
"I don't know why he didn't," she said. "But if I had to take a guess, it would be because he's new to the team, and he doesn't know who to trust."
"Everyone on Alan's team can be trusted. Alan handpicked each one of us. We are all extremely loyal to him. Did Damon doubt that in some way?"
"I really don't know. I spoke to Damon for about five minutes last night. We haven't seen each other in months. All he said was that he'd been here a week and didn't really know what Alan was working on."
"Well, that was by Alan's choice. He had some special project in mind for Damon that he didn't share with me."
She found that interesting. Karen couldn't hide that Alan's secrecy on Damon's assignment bothered her. And why wouldn't Alan tell Karen what he wanted Damon to work on? Maybe it was whatever case had gotten him killed.
"Do you have any theories on who killed Alan?" she asked, taking a sip of her coffee. Since Karen had instigated the conversation, she was going to seize the opportunity to find out what she could.
"Nothing I can talk about. We're keeping the circle small right now." Karen tapped her blue-coated fingernails on the table and said, "What about Wyatt Tanner?"
"What about him?"
"You know him, too, don't you? Have you heard from him?"
"I know him, but I haven't spoken to him since he went undercover almost a year ago. Why do you ask?"
"He missed a meet, and with Alan's accident, I'm concerned about him. I want to make sure that everyone we have in the field is safe until we bring Alan's killer to justice. I know that you and Damon and Wyatt went through Quantico together, and Alan spoke highly of all three of you."
"We're friends, but our assignments have taken us in very different directions."
"Yes, I know. Alan actually wanted you for our team, but he said you had a passion for finding missing children."
"I do," she admitted.
"That's a tough job. A lot of heartbreak."
"I'm a tough agent. As are you. You have an excellent reputation."
Karen's tension eased at her compliment. "I do my best. Alan taught me a lot."
"How long have you worked for Alan?"
"Two years—ever since he left Quantico and came to New York. I'm really going to miss him. He wasn't just my boss; he was a mentor and a friend."
There appeared to be genuine emotion in Karen's eyes, and Bree couldn't help wondering just how deep Karen's friendship with Alan had gone, but she certainly couldn't ask her that.
"Alan was a good man," Karen added. "He didn't deserve to die."
"No," she murmured, feeling now as if Karen had gone somewhere else in her head, a distant look in her eyes.
Karen suddenly straightened, squaring her shoulders and tilting up her chin. "If you hear from Damon or Wyatt, please tell them to get in touch with me. Now that Alan is gone, it's my responsibility to make sure that all the agents in our department are safe."
"I don't expect to hear from them, but if I do, I will certainly pass the message on. I would assume that Wyatt would get in touch with his handler. Was that Alan?"
"It was. I've tried to contact Wyatt through our emergency protocol, but he hasn't replied."
"Maybe he still will."
"I hope so."
"So do I," she murmured. Glancing at her watch, she realized time was quickly passing, and she had her own meet to make. "I should get back upstairs. I have some work to finish. Are you coming?"
"Actually, I'm going to stay here for a few more minutes. I haven’t been out of the office all day," Karen replied. "I could use a break."
She got to her feet. "Then I'll see you later."
After leaving the coffeehouse, she paused in the lobby of the building, and glanced back at Karen through the glass doors. She was on her phone, and Bree couldn't help wondering who she was calling and if it had anything to do with their conversation. Karen had definitely been pumping her for information, but she'd gotten nothing, so what did she have to report?
Turning away, she made her way to the bank of elevators. She stepped to the side as the doors opened to allow people to exit and was surprised to see Peter Hunt with a man she knew only by reputation and from the news, Senator Greg Raleigh from Connecticut.
Peter gave her a brief nod as the men walked out of the building together.
As she got in the elevator, she couldn't help thinking that senators rarely came to the FBI; usually the FBI went to them.
It could be nothing…but right now everything had the potential to be something…
Nine
After scouring the Internet for news stories about Alan's accident, Sophie's disappearance and the shootout at the cabin, Damon found little new information. Police were still asking for witnesses to Alan's accident. Sophie was still missing and possibly in danger, and gunshots were heard near a cabin, sometimes used by the Parkers. There was no mention of his presence at the cabin, and he was quite sure that someone at the FBI had put the lid on that.
Frustrated at being in the dark and cut off from the Bureau's resources, he set down the phone and glanced over at Sophie who was changing channels every few minutes. She hadn't had anything to say to him in the last hour, which was probably a good thing, but he had a feeling there were a lot of ideas running through her head
.
He needed to make sure he knew what she was thinking of doing before she did it.
"Can't find anything you like?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Nope. Not that the choices are great: a game show, a rerun of I Love Lucy, an episode of the Real Housewives of Somewhere and some sitcoms with laugh tracks so loud they must have brought in a hundred people to feign amusement."
He smiled at the disgust in her tone. "Not much of a TV watcher, are you?"
"I like the History Channel, travel documentaries, and shows with substance. I mean, who cares how this woman gets her lips to look plump?" She waved the remote toward the screen, which showed a middle-aged brunette at a plastic surgeon's office.
"Certainly not me," he said, getting up from the hard, uncomfortable chair. He crossed the room and sat down on the other bed. Thank God, the motel had had a room with two beds. It was hot enough in here without having to deal with the heat between him and Sophie. At least they could keep a good several feet between them.
She muted the sound on the television and said, "I feel like I want to call someone, Damon."
"Who?" he asked warily.
"My aunt Valerie—my mother's sister. She lives in Sydney, Australia, so maybe the news about my father hasn't gotten down there yet, or it might not be important or big enough for her press to cover, but I don't know for sure, and it's bothering me."
"You can't call her."
"She's the only family I have left, Damon. It's one thing to leave my friends hanging, but Aunt Valerie was there for me when my mom was sick. How can I let her think something might have happened to me?"
"If you call her, something might happen to you," he said forcefully. "We can't risk it. The Bureau could have a tap on your aunt's phone."
"All the way in Australia?" she asked doubtfully.
"With technology, the world is not that big anymore. Look, it's only been a day. You can wait awhile longer."
Perilous Trust Page 9
