Withholding Evidence

by Grant, Rachel

  No such luck. His caller was Josh Warner, a member of his SEAL team, and one of the few men who was more family to Keith than his biological brothers. He’d considered moving back to the San Francisco Bay Area when he left the service, but after his visit with his dad, he’d accepted that there was no reason to call California home anymore, and in fact, keeping the width of the continent between him and his father could only be a good thing. So he’d settled in Falls Church, and the fact that Josh lived in the DC area played a role in that choice.

  “We’ve got a problem,” Josh said.

  Keith was more alarmed by Josh’s tone than his words. After serving in the SEALs together, the problems they’d faced had ranged from a crappy dinner in the mess hall to calling for air support because insurgents had them pinned. Josh’s tone said this wasn’t a mess-hall sort of problem. “What’s going on?”

  “The rehab center just called me. Owen left.”

  Keith swore. “And they let him?”

  “They couldn’t stop him. He’s voluntary.”

  “But they’re supposed to call you before it gets to that point—”

  “Someone screwed up, that’s for sure. But the administrator said everything was going fine. Owen was doing fine. Participating. He was one of the model patients. Then he got a phone call and just…flipped out.”

  Dread snaked up Keith’s spine. “Who called him?”

  “That’s the strangest part. No one knows. Whoever it was, they knew the password, so the rehab center let Owen take the call.”

  “Shit.” Only a very small list of people knew the code word, but unfortunately, Owen’s aunt—who had medical power of attorney over the former SEAL so she had to be kept in the loop—was one of them. She was a sweet woman, with the best of intentions and only love for her broken nephew, but she also had no clue what could be at stake, and if convinced it would help Owen, she’d give up the password. He felt nauseated, but he had to ask, “Was the caller a woman?”

  “You’re thinking of the historian who contacted all of us? I thought you and she were on better terms after the explosion, and that she knows none of us will talk about Somalia.”

  If the situation didn’t suck so badly, he’d smile at the phrase “better terms.” He adjusted his scope when he caught another glimpse of Ruby in the window. “We’re on very good terms. But I still have to ask, was the caller a woman?”

  “Yes—at least the nurse thinks so.”

  That doesn’t mean it was Trina.

  “Did he say where he was going?” Keith asked.

  “No. I’m going to head north and question the staff in person. I’ll let you know if I hear anything. Can you stake out his aunt’s house?”

  Keith closed his eyes. Any other time, Owen would be his first priority. Shit, the one time one of his SEAL brothers wasn’t his first priority, look what happened to Owen. If Keith hadn’t needed to cover his own ass, Owen wouldn’t be in the mess he was in now. Guilt or no guilt, Keith couldn’t watch over Owen. Not today. “I’ve got a bit of a situation myself. And it involves the historian and possibly the explosion.”

  Thankfully, Josh didn’t judge him—at least not out loud. “The explosion takes priority.”

  “I’ll call Rav and see if he can send someone to the aunt’s house. Call me if you find out anything from the rehab staff.”

  “Will do. Stay safe, man.”

  Keith hung up, and almost immediately, his phone rang again. Expecting Josh had forgotten something, he was surprised to see the caller identified as Curt Dominick, and forced a shift in mental gears. He was worried about Owen, but right now he had other problems.

  He and Dominick had exchanged numbers, but the big man had yet to call Keith—a relief since Dominick’s wife had volunteered for decoy duty yesterday, and odds were he would happily nail Keith to the wall for that. And he couldn’t blame the guy. He kept his scope fixed on Ruby’s window as he answered.

  “I just received the forensic report on the initial blast. Wherever Trina is, get her out of there. Move her to your safe house. Now.”

  Adrenaline surged through Keith. “She’s at the Navy Yard.”

  Curt swore.

  Keith cleared his throat, trying to speak around the lump lodged there. “Why?”

  “The initial charge—it came from her laptop. Trina was the target all along.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  WALT WAS NOWHERE to be found. Sean and Trina searched the historian’s floor, the cafeteria; then she led her bodyguard to Building One, where Erica’s office was located. The oldest building in the Yard, Building One had been Rear Admiral Dahlgren’s home and office during the Civil War. President Lincoln was said to have visited Dahlgren often during the war, and a portrait of the president hung in the entryway. Trina couldn’t enter the building without feeling a shiver of pride, and nodded to the Great Emancipator on her way up the stairs to Erica’s office—which had once been Dahlgren’s.

  Whenever she visited Building One, she suffered serious office envy. The underwater archaeologists didn’t suffer the whack-a-mole-like housing of cubicle life. Erica’s office was large, with a view of the Anacostia River and plenty of sunlight. But she did have to share the space, and today her officemate, Undine, was at her desk. Undine had been out of town for most of the summer overseeing the underwater excavation of a navy airplane in Lake Superior, and Trina forgot she was due back this week. Unfortunately, she didn’t have time for a lot of chitchat. “Hey, Undine, I’m looking for Walt. Have you seen him today?”

  “Trina!” Undine jumped to her feet and gave Trina a bear hug, which she returned. “How are you? I just heard—”

  “I’m fine. And I can’t wait to go out for beers and hear about your summer, but I really need to find Walt. Any clue where he is?”

  “God, no. He avoids the underwater group as if he’s afraid estrogen contact will make him start menstruating.”

  Behind Trina, Sean laughed.

  Undine’s smile lit up her face, and she held out her hand. “Undine Gray. And if you aren’t with Trina, newly single.”

  Sean laughed again, shook her hand, and introduced himself as Trina rolled her eyes. Undine was back, and frankly, she’d missed her. Undine was unabashedly forward—the best drinking buddy a single girl in a big city could ask for.

  “Sean is not with me, and I can’t wait for you to explain the word ‘newly,’ but we don’t have time now. Lunch tomorrow?”

  “Sure. Sean, you available for dinner tonight?”

  “Busy. Sorry.”

  Undine flashed her Julia Roberts-like wide smile. “Trina can give you my number.”

  Again Trina rolled her eyes as she led Sean back down the stairs. Outside and out of earshot, Sean said, “Who was that?”

  “The biggest flirt at NHHC.”

  “Sounds like she’s on the rebound.” Sean opened the door and held it for Trina.

  She stepped inside. “She’s on permanent rebound. Hung up on a guy since forever. I love her to death, so that’s the only warning I’ll give you.”

  “Fair enough.” Turning serious, Sean said, “I think Walt took off.”

  “Yeah. Bastard. Let’s find Cressida and Mara. Maybe they know where he went.” Trina led Sean to the basement conservation lab, Cressida’s lair, as she catalogued the contents of the mystery file cabinet, which, fortunately, hadn’t been filled with VD cleansing syringes.

  Cressida glanced up from the camera table, where an old map was laid out under bright lights. Mounted on a frame above the map was a wide-angle digital camera that took high-resolution photos of documents. She straightened a bit at seeing Sean, and Trina wanted to laugh. Her bodyguard certainly had an effect on women.

  Cressida caught her smile. “What? I have a boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind.”

  For his part, Sean just smiled and crossed his arms, showing off his thick biceps in his black T-shirt. He was as ripped as Keith and possibly even as good-looking. And he knew it.


  “Cress, I’m looking for Walt or Mara. Have you seen either one?”

  “I haven’t seen Walt at all today. Mara was here, but she got a call from Curt about ten minutes ago and bolted. I think she’s looking for you.”

  Sean’s cell phone rang. He answered and, after a pause, said, “We’re in the basement conservation lab with Cressida.”

  A minute later, rapid footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Keith appeared. He headed straight for Trina, wearing an intense, charged expression that caused her belly to flip. He pulled her to his chest and his thick arms circled her. Lips touched her forehead, then found her mouth for a hard, fierce, but sadly brief kiss.

  Still holding her, he said, “Damn, I was worried about you. We’ve got to get you out of here.”

  His tone caused another belly roll, but this time not in a good way. “What’s going on?”

  “I assumed Mara already told you.”

  Now she was scared—and confused. “I haven’t seen her. I think we’ve been circling each other as we searched for Walt.”

  “They were able to piece together fragments of the bomb.” He paused. “It was in your computer.”

  The blood drained from Trina’s face, possibly even her heart. She might have fallen if it weren’t for Keith’s encircling arms. After a moment, she stepped backward out of his embrace, grabbed a chair, and dropped into it. “My computer?” She had to force the words out, which was difficult because she couldn’t breathe.

  Keith nodded. “We left it by the front door, just inside, leaning against a structural wall. The gas furnace was only six feet away on the other side of that wall, in the garage.”

  She grappled with the news. “What set it off? Was it on a timer?”

  “They haven’t been able to identify enough pieces to be certain, but odds are it was tied to the computer clock. My guess is, your trip to see me was unexpected. No one could have guessed you would head to my house—which is why you had to be the intended target.”

  She considered that day. “They couldn’t have known I’d take the computer out of the office. I left work a little early, but the Metro took forever—the trains were packed when I changed to the Orange Line at L’Enfant. By the time I got to your place, it was after five. Government offices clear out at five almost without fail. Why rig my computer to blow after working hours? Why rig my computer to blow at all?”

  Keith knelt before her and gripped her hands. “Do you usually take your computer home?”

  “Once a week—if that. I only had it that day so I could work on the Metro, since I’d left the office early.”

  “So if you hadn’t brought the computer with you, it would have exploded on your desk.”

  She nodded, grasping at the one thing that comforted. “Most—if not all—of the historians on my floor would have left the office already.”

  Keith released her hands and turned to the staircase. “I want to check out your cubicle, then I’m getting you out of here.”

  They found Mara in Trina’s cubicle, flipping through the mess of papers on her desk. She glanced up and said, “You heard?”

  Trina nodded. “My guess is someone wanted to destroy the office.” She glanced around the floor—taking in the central location of her cubicle. The proximity to Walt’s.

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Mara said. “But why? The only thing of interest in here was the top-secret cabinet. And it’s been moved—and declassified.” She turned to Cressida, who had followed them along with Sean. “Have you found anything in the cabinet that warrants blowing up the office?”

  “Hell, no. It’s mostly maps. Really old, really out-of-date maps.”

  Mara pushed aside the stack of papers she’d been rifling through. “Bomb specialists are coming to search your cubicle, see if there’s any explosive residue or fingerprints. They’re headed to your apartment too.”

  “I doubt they had access to the building,” Sean said, “or the bomb would have been planted in something stationary.”

  “Prior to Monday, when was the last time your computer left the office?” Keith asked.

  Trina thought back, but this question wasn’t hard. “I had it home that whole weekend—so I could e-mail you from my official work account.”

  Keith nodded. “You and Cressida were out for hours on Sunday when you went to the party. The computer was in your apartment then?”

  “Yes.”

  Keith pulled out his cell and punched some buttons. “Dominick, the computer was at Trina’s the weekend before.” He met Trina’s gaze. “Where in your apartment was it?”

  “Either the kitchen table or in a laptop bag on the floor by the bookshelf.”

  “Did you ever notice it was moved? Or anything else strange?” Keith asked.

  She closed her eyes and thought about the weekend. Nothing unusual before the party. And after—she’d been too angry with Keith to pay attention. “I don’t know.” It didn’t help that she was somewhat prone to clutter.

  To Curt, Keith said, “I’m taking Trina to the safe house, then heading to Walt Fryer’s home. I have a few questions for him.”

  “I’m going with you,” Trina said before he could hang up.

  “It’s not safe for you.” Keith’s tone was firm.

  She bristled. “I’m the one who needs to ask him about the bullshit interview with Lieutenant Ruby.”

  Keith listened to his phone, then said, “Fine,” and hung up. “I’m taking you to the Department of Justice—investigators need to interview you again anyway. Curt will send an agent to Walt’s house. If he’s there, they’ll bring him to the DOJ, and you can be there while he’s questioned. Mara, Curt wants you there too. Since Walt works for you, the situation could become complicated.”

  This was all so incomprehensible, Trina felt like she was spinning. “You and Curt both really think Walt and Lieutenant Ruby have something to do with the laptop explosive?”

  Keith shrugged. “It’s the only lead we’ve gotten so far.”

  They agreed Sean would drive Mara to Curt’s office later, after she spoke with the investigators who would search Trina’s cubicle. Keith insisted on taking Trina to the DOJ immediately.

  Once they were alone in Keith’s car—a Raptor vehicle on loan from Alec—the emotions she’d been trying to hold in check since her initial reaction in the basement rose to the surface. He reached for the gearshift, but she put out a hand and stopped him. “It’s my fault your home blew up. Tyler’s home was destroyed…” Her voice trailed off as the enormity of it hit her.

  “Babe—”

  Her body started to shake. “I’m sorry. So sorry. You lost…everything. Your library…”

  “It’s all just stuff.” He squeezed her fingers. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know—and we still don’t know why.”

  “Your library was beautiful. Organized. I bet you even had a database, listing all the books.”

  He stroked her cheek. “Have. My computer was backed up. Cloud.”

  Somehow that made her even sadder. “So you have a list of all the books you no longer own.”

  One corner of his mouth kicked up, and he rubbed his thumb across her bottom lip. “And a new quest to replace every one.”

  Something in her heart melted in that moment. Admittedly, she didn’t have far to go—she’d been half in love with him after their night together. This just tipped her to the other side.

  She pulled his face to hers and kissed him as she’d wanted to from the moment he’d appeared in the conservation lab. Her tongue met his in a hot, deep kiss that made promises she was more than eager to keep.

  He groaned. His large palm cupped the back of her head, holding her to him as he deepened the kiss. With a pant, he released her. “Much as I want to, this isn’t the time or place to finish that. Someone planted a bomb in your computer, and we’re exposed out here.”

  “I suppose. But I’ve been fine all week.”

  “And you’ve had a bodyguard all week, and you’ve b
een working on a secure military base. Anyone desperate enough—and technically skilled enough—to break into your apartment and rig a bomb inside your laptop without you discovering it, is going to try again. We can’t give him—or her—the opportunity.”

  “You’re going to lock me up in a safe house and leave me there, aren’t you?”

  “No, my plan is to take you to the house where I’ve been staying, but whether or not that’s a good idea will depend on what we learn from Walt.”

  CURT DOMINICK HAD a reputation for being driven, ruthless in the courtroom, and cold in general. Rav had also told Keith that the man had studied karate with the same dedication he’d studied law, and after thirty years was a seventh-degree black belt who kicked Rav’s ass during sparring about half the time. Given that Rav was a former Army Ranger who owned a private security company and military training ground that required him to remain in fighting shape, that was saying something.

  Dominick hugged Trina and pressed a kiss to her cheek, then he shook hands with Keith, and sized him up. “Mara made me promise I wouldn’t go Neanderthal and throw a fit about her playing decoy for you.”

  Trina flashed a sheepish grin. “Tell Mara I said thanks.”

  Dominick offered her a hint of a smile. “I don’t know why I believed she wanted to go clothes shopping. Usually I can read her better than that.”

  She chuckled. “Yeah, I felt foolish for missing that clue too.”

  He circled back to his desk and dropped into a stately leather chair. Trina sat in a guest chair opposite. Keith was too wound up to sit, and stood just behind and to the side of her, a sentry, ready to protect and defend.

  “Right before you arrived, I received an update,” Dominick said. “Walt Fryer is in the hospital.”

  Trina gasped. “Why—?”

  “Myocardial infarction. He collapsed on the Metro on the way to work today. He never made it into the office.”

  “How is he?” she asked.

  “His prognosis is good. Apparently, this wasn’t his first heart attack.”

  She sighed. “Suddenly, the idea of reaming him out for blindsiding me with Lieutenant Ruby makes me feel guilty.”