Scorched

by Laura Griffin

  “Most likely, yes.”

  “So, the investigation shows that Trent killed Blake,” Kelsey said. “What does that mean about his supposed ‘alibi’? Can we get Bolton, too? He’s part of the effort to frame Gage.”

  LeBlanc glanced over her shoulder, clearly uneasy with even the mention of his name. “That part is not as straightforward. There’s been a misunderstanding about Bolton’s statement to investigators—the statement in which he gave Trent an alibi.”

  Gage folded his arms over his chest. “I’d love to hear this.”

  Another glance over her shoulder, and Kelsey started to get annoyed.

  “Evidently, Bolton told investigators Trent was in a meeting with him in Washington at the time of Blake’s murder. That was Trent’s original alibi. Now Bolton’s saying they had the meeting by Skype after Trent missed his flight. Obviously, that makes for a much flimsier alibi because we can’t determine the exact time of Blake’s death.”

  “I could,” Kelsey said.

  “Leave it alone.” Gage gave her a sharp look. “You don’t want to get any deeper into this. And it doesn’t matter, anyway. Bolton’s off the hook.”

  “But that’s not right,” Kelsey protested. “He comes off as innocent.”

  “He may actually be innocent,” LeBlanc said.

  Kelsey gaped at the woman. The word naïve popped into her head.

  “Gordon tells me forensic accountants have uncovered a money transfer into a Hong Kong bank account for Trent Lohman.”

  “A money motive, just like we thought,” Gage said.

  “We wouldn’t even know about the payment, except that we’ve had our eye on this organization for a while,” LeBlanc continued. “It poses as a legitimate business, but we’ve been investigating whether it funnels money to terrorists. It evidently funneled money to Trent, but we have no indications that Bolton received payments like that. We really have no solid evidence Bolton is involved in this at all, beyond making an ambiguous statement to investigators.”

  “What about the fingerprint evidence?” Gage asked.

  “Gordon asked me to update you on that, too. Apparently that also was the result of a mix-up. The lab now says the print they found on the beer bottle in Blake’s apartment is inconclusive.”

  Kelsey felt outrage bubbling up in her chest. “How is that possible? That print was the basis for an arrest warrant! And what about the hair?”

  LeBlanc looked puzzled. “What hair?”

  “The human hair—not Blake’s—that was recovered from his body at autopsy. It probably belongs to Artigas. It definitely doesn’t belong to Gage.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve been over all the reports and I don’t know anything about a hair.”

  “It was sent to Quantico.”

  The woman just looked at her, and Kelsey felt a renewed wave of outrage. Clearly, someone had manipulated the physical evidence.

  “I understand your frustration.” The woman glanced at Gage. “Gordon does, too. He wanted me to assure you that he’s looking into how this could have happened.”

  Gage shook his head and looked away, obviously disgusted.

  Kelsey glanced down the hallway to see Derek coming toward them. He’d changed out of his jogging gear and was now in his typical civilian attire of jeans, T-shirt, and cowboy boots.

  “What’d I miss?”

  He directed the question at the FBI agent, and Kelsey noticed she seemed flustered all of a sudden.

  “I was just giving Lieutenant Brewer here an update on recent developments.” She glanced at her watch. “But I’m dragging this out.” She looked at Gage. “What I most needed to tell you is how sorry I am, on behalf of the Bureau, for your ordeal.”

  Gage didn’t say anything.

  “The warrant for your arrest has been dropped. You’re free to go back to your base, your life, your vacation.” She smiled weakly. “Although I realize it’s almost over now.”

  Kelsey looked at Gage. He was off the hook. Finally. Which meant he was off the hook in other ways, too. He was free to go back to San Diego, as Kelsey had known he would all along.

  “Well, that’s it.” The agent looked at Kelsey, then Derek, then Gage. “I’ll just . . . get out of your way. Have a safe trip back to base, Lieutenant.”

  “Thank you.” Gage nodded crisply.

  Kelsey watched her leave.

  “So.” Derek slapped Gage on the back. “Good news, huh?”

  Gage looked at Kelsey.

  Derek smiled. “How’s the arm, Kels?”

  She glanced down at her bandage. “Fine. All stitched up.” She looked up, but he was busy exchanging keys with Gage. Derek’s pickup had been closest, so Gage had used it to rush her to the hospital.

  “Your rental’s parked in the visitors’ lot,” Derek said.

  “Your pickup’s—”

  “I know, I saw it.” Derek slapped him on the back again. “See you back at base, 1400 tomorrow. Don’t be late.” He turned to Kelsey and she got a back slap, too. “You take care of that arm.”

  He strode away, and she looked at Gage. “Gee, he seems in a hurry to get on the road.”

  Gage didn’t say anything. He never shared much about his buddies’ personal lives, but Kelsey could tell FBI Barbie was going to have her hands full tonight.

  “Sit tight,” Gage told her.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To track down that paperwork. I want to get the hell out of here.”

  • • •

  Elizabeth stopped on the sidewalk and took a deep breath. The night was damp. Chilly. She squeezed her arms around herself and gazed out at the street, where a rainbow of lights reflected off the slick pavement. Traffic zoomed past and Elizabeth watched it, trying to recall where she’d parked.

  She couldn’t even recall what she was driving today. A rental. Something dark, four doors. She vaguely remembered signing papers for it at the airport this morning at the beginning of what had turned out to be the longest day of her life.

  Elizabeth looked at her watch. She’d been awake for nearly twenty hours, subsisting on M&M’s and a river of coffee. She had phone calls to make, reports to write, and a mountain of e-mails to answer as soon as she checked into whatever motel was going to be her home tonight.

  And yet she couldn’t stop thinking about that sound, that bone-chilling thud that had marked the end of a man’s life. She’d recognized it the instant she heard it, and it had come back to her over and over again as she stood at the accident scene, giving her statement and talking on the phone. She’d stayed there for hours dealing with a thousand different logistics, and then more when she’d gone into the San Francisco field office to give yet another statement. Through all of it, she’d kept thinking about that sound and feeling grateful that Trent’s wife hadn’t been there to hear it. Elizabeth had never laid eyes on the woman. She had no idea if she knew what a morally deficient person she’d married. She had no idea if she had a clue about her husband’s corruption. But even if she did, Elizabeth was glad she hadn’t been there today to hear a sound like that.

  Elizabeth wrapped her arms around herself again. Her chest constricted, and she felt the anxiety rushing back again. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and tried to make it go away.

  “Hey, there.”

  She turned around, not really surprised by the voice. She watched him walk toward her, tall and strong and sure of himself. Had she actually been waiting for him? Surely she was smarter than that.

  He stopped and gazed down at her with those whiskey-brown eyes. He’d changed clothes somewhere, but hadn’t managed to shave, and Elizabeth’s nerves fluttered.

  “Where you headed?” He gave her a half-smile.

  “Work.”

  “At this hour?”

  “I’ve got mountains of reports.”

  “Can’t they wait till tomorrow?”

  “No.”

  She looked away, pretty sure he could see through h
er.

  “That’s a shame.” He draped an arm over her shoulder. Her muscles tensed, but she let his arm stay there, all warm and heavy. “Because I know this bar. And it looks to me like you could use a drink.”

  • • •

  Marissa stepped into her daughter’s room.

  “What is it, sweetie?”

  “I can’t sleep.”

  She walked to the bedside and switched on the Sleeping Beauty lamp. Leila was having a tough time settling down tonight. There had been all the sirens outside and CNN blaring in the kitchen. Plus she’d always been able to sense when her mother was upset. Marissa sank onto the side of the bed and tucked the covers up.

  “Would you like me to read you a story?”

  “Yes!”

  “How about Goodnight Moon?” A bit young for her, but it usually worked like magic.

  “Nightmare in My Closet.”

  “We did that one already.”

  “Please?”

  Marissa fished the book out of the basket beside the bed. It was one of Leila’s favorites. She loved the part where the boy shoots the monster with his cork gun and reduces him to tears. If only it were so easy.

  “Okay, but this is the last time tonight.”

  A knock sounded at the front door and Marissa jumped to her feet.

  “Who is it, Mommy?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe Mrs. Whitney. I’ll be right back.” She closed Leila’s door behind her and hurried to the front door. No one had buzzed her, so it was either a neighbor or someone who’d slipped into the building. She peered through the peephole and felt a jolt of fear.

  She swung open the door. “Are you crazy? What are you doing here?”

  • • •

  Gage pulled into the parking lot of yet another crappy motel. This one faced the highway and was tucked between a Squeaky Clean Car Wash and Madam Chen’s Chinese Buffet. The two-story building offered cable TV and guaranteed traffic noise. It also offered a straight shot to the airport, so—as Kelsey had pointed out—Gage could drop her off to catch a flight before heading down the coast to report for duty.

  “Hey, good news,” she said. “Looks like they have a vacancy.”

  He glanced at the neon sign as he whipped into a space. “Stop.”

  “What?”

  He shoved open the door. “Don’t pretend you’re happy about this.”

  She got out, too. “Actually, I’m very happy. You think I liked the idea of you facing charges for something you didn’t do?”

  Gage shot her a look as he crossed the sidewalk and jerked open the door. He took one glance at the fake plants in the lobby and knew the place was going to be a dump. A tattooed teenager sat behind the reception counter playing a hand-held video game. He put it aside and looked up at them.

  “I need a room.” Gage handed over a credit card.

  “I’d think you’d be happy, too.” Kelsey rummaged through her purse. “You don’t have to worry about getting intercepted by a pair of MIBs the minute you set foot on base.”

  “Goddamn it, would you stop?”

  The kid looked up from his computer screen. “Uh, we’ve got a king or a double.”

  “King.” Gage turned to glare at Kelsey. “Put your money away.”

  She stuffed the money back into her wallet, looking annoyed. It was about time. She’d been relentlessly cheerful for the past hour.

  Gage scrawled his name on the paperwork as the kid passed him a key card.

  “You’re in 206. That’s up the stairs and—”

  “We got it.” He took the card and led Kelsey up a flight of stairs that had been carpeted circa the Reagan Administration.

  “I don’t know what your problem is tonight,” Kelsey said, “but you barely said ten words to me at the hospital. And even less in the car.”

  They passed an ice machine alcove, which of course had no ice machine. Gage reached the room and shoved the card into the key slot.

  “I would think you’d be happy for a change.” She followed him into the musty room. “But you’ve been nothing but hostile.”

  “Hostile?” He flipped a light switch. “You think I’m being hostile?”

  “Yes.”

  “Someone tried to put a bullet in you today.” He flung his keys on the dresser. “I sat in a fucking ER and watched some twelve-year-old doctor sew up your arm. You’re damn right I’m hostile.”

  Her eyebrows arched. “That’s what this is about? My stitches?”

  “You could have been killed!”

  She looked incredulous. “Welcome to my world, Gage.”

  “Are you actually downplaying this?”

  “Not at all. I can only imagine how stressful it must be to worry about someone for five whole minutes!”

  He gritted his teeth and turned away from her. He didn’t want to talk about this right now. He was too furious.

  Behind him, a light went on in the bathroom and the door slammed shut.

  Gage sank down on the bed. He rested his elbows on his knees and scowled down at the dingy carpet. He’d fucked up royally today. When he’d set up that surveillance op, all he’d been thinking about was getting Kelsey out of the way. It had never occurred to him that they might not be the only ones watching Ramli’s sister.

  He scrubbed his hands over his face. It was a stupid mistake, and he blamed way too much driving and way too little sleep. But those excuses weren’t worth shit. He had better training than that. And his carelessness had nearly cost Kelsey her life.

  Gage squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead. So many mistakes, not the least of which was bringing her to some fleabag motel a few short hours before he had to report for duty.

  Gage pulled off his shoes and hummed them into the corner. He took off his belt and holster. He went to the window, where a flimsy curtain did nothing to muffle the traffic noise. As he watched the streaming headlights, he felt a deep well of regret for so many things he didn’t know how to change.

  He listened to the pipes run. He imagined her standing under the water, surrounded by steam. He closed his eyes and pictured it and felt that same slow burn that had been with him since the day he’d met her in the West Texas desert. No matter where he went or how long he stayed away, he couldn’t distance himself from it. He craved her like water, and the thought of leaving her again, without even the comfort of knowing she was back here waiting for him to come home this time—it was damn near choking him.

  When he reported for duty tomorrow, he was going overseas. He knew that. He also knew this was no training mission. By the time he came back, she might have a ring on her finger, and it might be from Ben, or Aaron, or fucking Mark Wolfe, FBI profiler extraordinaire. Gage’s gut clenched with fury just thinking about it.

  And yet he couldn’t blame her for making a choice like that.

  What could he offer her? He couldn’t give her a big lifestyle or stability or even his presence most of the time. The one thing he could offer her was a chance to uproot her life and give up an incredible job she loved—a job where she was respected in her field and did something good for humanity on a regular basis—so that she could move to California, where she’d be miserable and alone most of the time.

  The water shut off. Gage stared out at the traffic and thought about all the anger and jealousy and regret he’d had festering inside him for months. And just when he thought he’d gotten past it, he realized there was no end in sight.

  The door opened. He felt the slight change in temperature as steam wafted into the little room.

  God, he was an idiot. How had he ever thought he’d managed to make this better? He’d made it worse. For both of them. But now Kelsey was going to be the one hurting most because—for the very first time—he understood what she’d been talking about. He understood what had twisted her up inside and made her lash out at him with that damn ultimatum.

  Fear, plain and simple. Today it had hit him like a bullet in the back.

  She padded up behind him and,
to his surprise, wound her arms around him.

  “Hey,” she whispered.

  He glanced down at her bandage, which she’d somehow managed to keep dry. But her skin was damp. He could smell it. The scent of her surrounded him.

  She leaned her forehead against his back. “We’ve got seven hours together.”

  “Six.”

  She pulled him around to face her. Her wet hair was combed back from her face, and she was wearing one of his new black T-shirts.

  “I don’t want to spend it fighting.”

  “How do you want to spend it?” he asked, because it felt like his line, but his heart wasn’t really in it. He was so, so sick of this.

  Instead of saying something clever, she reached up and stroked her thumb over his cheek, where his beard was coming in. She probably thought he’d been forgetting to shave, but really, he needed it for work.

  Not something she wanted to hear tonight.

  She gazed up at him with a look he knew well, and his pulse picked up. She slid her arms around his neck and pressed her breasts against him.

  “Stop looking like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.” She took his hand and slid it slowly under the shirt. His fingers encountered warm, damp skin and a thin strip of lace. The half-smile she gave him was the sweetest, most generous thing he’d ever seen. She rose up and nuzzled him just below the ear.

  “Gage?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Kiss me.”

  CHAPTER 22

  His mouth crushed down on hers, and she felt a flood of triumph as his hands gripped her hips and she tasted his pent-up need. This was the man she wanted tonight—not sullen and cold, but hot and demanding. His warm palms slid down her body and pulled her against him.

  She leaned back to look at him. It was dark in the room, with just a narrow shaft of light coming in from the bathroom. She smiled and combed her fingers through his hair as she brought his head down for another kiss. She wanted to lose herself in it—in his breath, his taste, the wonderfully familiar scent of him. She kissed him until her head began to swim and all the reservations she’d had about doing this again melted away. She wanted the here and now. She wanted his mouth and his tongue and his strong arms wrapped around her so tightly she could scarcely breathe.