7
After her shower, Caroline wrapped herself in one of the plush hotel towels, loving the feel of the thick cotton against her skin. She’d never bought into the whole living the high-life thing. That was more her mother’s speed. Probably a good thing considering she’d never get rich on her government salary. Still, once in awhile, if it meant getting to use these towels, the high-life wasn’t so bad.
Of course she liked nice things, she just didn’t need to spend an extra three hundred dollars on sunglasses when she could get the pair she wanted for fifty bucks. Seemed pretty simple to her.
But these towels? They might make her change her mind.
She opened the bathroom door and let a puff of steam escape. She stuck her head out and spotted Mitch sitting at the desk staring at her laptop screen.
The door to the adjoining room—Mitch’s room—sat open, as it had since they’d arrived. They’d have to remember to close and lock it when they left because they’d checked in separately and to everyone outside this room, they were two random people who happened to be neighbors for a few days.
The adjoining room, Mitch’s idea, of course, was a bonus because they could hide from the world while still sharing a bed.
And, truth be told, they did their best work in bed.
“If you love me,” she said, “you’ll buy me these bath towels.”
A second later, Mitch appeared in the doorway, his short hair crushed on one side and his eyes a little saggy from missed sleep.
“Ha,” he said, “if you love me you’ll walk around naked in those fuck-me shoes you had on last night.”
“Keep dreaming, pal.”
Grabbing a hand towel, she swiped at the mirror, clearing the fog so she could see. “So, until we get the call from the studio, we have time to kill. I think we should find this Twitter guy. Run down his address and see what’s what. Then later, we’ll talk to Toby, see what we can find out.”
“Teeg hasn’t been able to get me Bad Ass One’s address. What’re you thinking?”
“Facial recognition. We get Grey to run his picture through the FBI. And, yeah, yeah, yeah, I know we’re supposed to be on the down low, but I don’t think Senator Dutch will want to hear that nonsense. He just wants his kid back. And if our genius hacker can’t get an address for our suspect, something tells me the good senator won’t mind bending a few rules to get it.”
She ran her brush through her wet hair and slapped on some moisturizer and sunscreen. She’d forgotten yesterday and if they were going to be out in blazing sun, she’d wind up crunchy. August in Vegas. No joke.
“I’ll call Grey,” she said.
Mitch snorted. “You worried I’m gonna rip him a new one for hosing his closest friend?”
The thought had occurred to her. After their fight yesterday, and that horrible broken look Mitch had worn, she couldn’t take a chance on Captain Sarcastic giving their boss an earful.
“Not worried. Cautious.”
She patted his cheek, angled around him and walked to the desk for her phone. She scrolled her contacts and dialed their boss. It would be mid-morning at home so Grey should be at the office.
Mitch boosted off the doorframe and pointed to his room. “I’m gonna grab a shower.”
Just as she was about to respond, Grey picked up. “Justice,” he said by way of greeting.
“Hey, boss.”
“Hey. You got an update for me? Senator Dutch is all over my ass.”
Cripes, they’d barely been at this twenty-four hours. But she’d give her boss what he needed to pacify the senator.
“I made some inroads yesterday. Two good leads. One of them is a producer on the show with a history of harassing women. Teeg is running that down for us. There’s also a cyber-stalker.”
“Ah, Christ.”
“Yeah. He sounds like a kook. Teeg was able to narrow his IP address, but we—uh—I’ve got the morning open here. Figured I’d run him down if I could get the address.”
“What’s Monroe doing?”
“He’s here. Doing his Monroe thing.”
On the other end, Grey went silent. Had she lost him? She checked the phone’s screen. Nope. Four bars.
“Grey? You there?”
“I’m deciding whether I should ask what ‘doing his Monroe thing’ means.”
“Truthfully, you don’t want to know. Just have faith that we’ve got this under control.”
Grey sighed. “What do you need from me?”
“Teeg has photos of our stalker. Can you run them and get me a home address? If we get an address, I’ll check it out before I have to report in at the show.”
“Give me fifteen minutes.”
“You got it. Thanks.”
* * *
Fifty-eight minutes later, Caroline rode shotgun while Mitch drove the rental car into a six-year-old subdivision a mere sixteen miles outside of Las Vegas in Henderson, second largest city in Nevada. They made two quick lefts, landing on a long block dotted with pale pink and white stucco homes. The only greenery consisted of a young tree or two in front of each house. Strategically placed bushes planted in landscaping rocks that doubled as front lawns added a bit of color. No grass. What would be the point? The heat would fry it.
“What number was it?”
Caroline checked the note she’d jotted. “183. Should be on the right.”
Half a block in, they parked in front of a two-story home with a three-car garage and a stone walkway leading to the front door. Intricate concrete scrolls adorned the front porch overhang and thick columns. No cars sat in the driveway. Didn’t mean anything. They could have been in the garage.
“Nice house for a kid in his twenties,” Mitch said.
“And big for a bachelor.”
“Assuming he’s a bachelor. Because, seriously, Caroline, why would a guy in his twenties want to live on this boring-ass street, in this boring-ass house when he had Vegas and clubs and easy lays fifteen minutes away?”
Mitch leaned forward and scanned the surrounding area. “I hate shit like this.”
“The normalcy?”
“Yeah. We think this guy could be involved in a young woman’s disappearance and he lives in fucking Mayberry.”
Caroline patted his leg. “You should be used to this by now.”
The Justice team spent their days investigating people who should have been above criminal activity. Politicians, judges, government employees. All people that United States citizens trusted to represent them, people who supposedly had their wellbeing in mind. Instead, in some cases, they were self-absorbed thieves and murderers only interested in protecting their own inflated egos.
And when the hell had she become such a pessimist?
No. Not a pessimist.
A realist.
And that realist wouldn’t play judge. Her job was to check this guy out. Innocent until proven guilty. All they really knew about him right now was that he spent way too much time on Twitter and way too much time inside his own head.
Neither of which was a crime.
Mitch hit the door locks on the rental. “Let’s ring the bell. If he answers, we’ll say we’re looking for someone. See what we can get out of him.”
Not the most brilliant plan, but considering the undercover aspects of this operation, they couldn’t necessarily walk up to the door and badge the guy.
“Alrighty then.”
Caroline shoved open the door and a blast of heat scorched her. So freaking hot. At least she’d been smart and packed some light cotton dresses rather than her standard FBI pantsuits.
Mitch walked around the car and held her door while she got out.
“But it’s a dry heat,” he said.
That made her laugh. Captain Sarcastic, never one to let an opportunity slide by. They walked up the driveway, the blazing concrete frying the soles of Caroline’s strappy flat sandals. Ignoring the scalding of her feet, she kept her head straight, gaze slowly scanning the home’s perimeter.
No broken windows, no cracked concrete, no overgrown weeds. All in all, a well-maintained home.
Again, didn’t necessarily mean anything. Plenty of serial killers had OCD tendencies.
Mitch rang the bell and a chime sounded from inside. “Nice ring,” Captain Sarcastic said.
Caroline rolled her eyes and waited. No answer. “Hit it again, Captain.”
The chime sounded again and they stood on the porch, Mitch, as usual, rocking slightly because God forbid he should stay still. A hot breeze blew and Caroline ran a hand up her sweaty forehead. How did people live in this heat?
A long minute passed.
“Maybe he’s at work,” she said.
Mitch backed away from the porch and scanned the second story windows. “Could be. Let’s grab a bite and come back. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
Caroline checked her watch. Nine-twenty. They could hit a drive-thru. That allowed plenty of time to eat, come back and then make the noon deadline for the show.
Besides, after the night they’d had, she could eat.
An older woman—maybe mid-sixties—wandered out of the neighboring home and headed to the bank of mailboxes between her house and the one on the far side. Obviously noticing the movement or sensing the stranger alert, she glanced over at them.
“Bingo,” Mitch muttered, offering up a friendly wave as he made his way toward her. “Hello.”
The woman retrieved her mail, staying put in front of the mailbox. Smart woman. On a quiet street like this, unknown subjects could be dangerous.
But Mitch-the-vagina-melter flashed those blue eyes and the woman’s stiff shoulders dropped five inches.
The man was unbelievable.
“Sorry to bother you,” he said. “We’re looking for Jeremy Randall.” He jerked a thumb back to the house. “This is the address I had for him.”
“Yes. He lives there. His parents own the home.”
Parents. Aha.
Mitch turned back to Caroline, his look bordering on smug because of his earlier comment about a young bachelor living in Mayberry. “He moved back home.”
Caroline shook the woman’s hand. “Hi. I’m Tami. We used to work with Jeremy. We moved out east a few years ago and are back for a visit. Thought we’d stop and see him. We should have called.”
“I’m afraid so,” the woman said. “I haven’t seen him for a few days. He tends to come and go. I think he’s out of work now so he’s been spending time at the lake.”
The lake.
Mitch snapped his fingers. “Right. My bad. I think he mentioned that.”
The woman shifted her gaze toward her house, more than ready to be done with them. “Well, I should get back to it. Sorry your visit didn’t work out.”
“That’s all right,” Caroline said. “We just took a chance. We’ll call next time.”
Back at the car, Mitch fired the engine and blasted the air conditioner. Damned heat. Caroline adjusted the air vent so it blew straight at her. “So we know he lives with his parents, he’s possibly out of work—which could cause frustration and bad behavior—and that the family owns a lake home.”
Mitch pulled away from the curb. “Yeah. Now we need to locate that lake home.”
8
The call from the studio execs came at 12:01. Caroline’s phone rang first, then Mitch’s. They were in.
Caroline was one of the new Sin City Bachelorettes. Mitch was one of the bachelors vying for her love.
Except he was pretty sure he already had it.
And maybe he wanted a little something more.
The limo picking them up for the party would be there in minutes. Caroline whizzed out of the bathroom wearing a modest, although sexy as hell, off-the-shoulder number that fit her like a glove. The skirt of the dress was long, but had a side slit that fanned out and made saliva pool in his mouth as she walked across the room in her bare feet. She grabbed some jewels off the dresser, and startled when she turned and found him staring at her from the connecting doorway.
“You look incredible, Caroline.”
Her eyes roamed over his jeans and white dress shirt, rolled at the sleeves. “Where’s your tie?”
He didn’t do ties. Not anymore. “I’m wearing my charm instead.”
She snorted and turned her back to him. “Zip me up and help me with this necklace.”
“Happy to be of service.” He copped a feel while he was at it, making Caroline laugh.
His favorite sound next to her moans when they were in bed.
Bad Ass was in the wind. Teeg and Grey had uncovered the location of his parents’ cabin, but when Mitch and Caroline had run down the address, they’d found no one there. No one had been there in a while either. Dead end.
Teeg had the make and model of the guy’s car, his license plates, and was searching other hotel video to see if he could determine if Megan had actually left the hotel. While security footage in the bar showed the bar itself, it didn’t show whom she might have walked out with. It appeared she’d left on her own, but had she met someone outside? Toby’s image had disappeared into the shadows and hadn’t surfaced again. Teeg hadn’t been able to get into the rest of the hotel’s security files showing the hallways, gambling tables, and lobby.
Yet.
The hacker was good. He’d find a way.
Meanwhile, Mitch and Caroline had a party to attend and an assistant producer to harass.
Mitch slid the zipper of Caroline’s dress up to her mid-back, letting his fingers skim the ridges of her shoulder blades. He wasn’t too upset that Bad Ass hadn’t panned out. He’d taken advantage of the downtime to make a few of Caroline’s fantasies come true. Five-star hotel room, overpriced but delicious food he would make Grey ante up for, and some champagne only added to the fun. She’d nagged him about blowing so much on the champagne. At least until he’d poured out a teaspoon on her stomach and licked it off.
Caroline reached around and bumped his hip with her hand, making him instantly hard. “The gal who called said no jeans.”
“Fuck them.” He nuzzled her neck. “I look just as hot in jeans as trousers.”
“I haven’t seen you in anything polyester since our Bureau days.”
He fastened the necklace around her throat and kissed the side of her neck. His hands inched her skirt up. “How about I bend you over that desk and we have a quickie?”
She laughed and scooted away. “No way, Captain. I need to be able to walk in four inch stilettos tonight.”
God, he loved this woman. His previous hurt had faded enough he could think straight again. He hoped he could find a moment to stop in the shops downstairs and get her something.
She moved to the window and looked out. “What’s going on down there?”
Below, red and blue lights flashed, a couple of cop cars and an ambulance blocking the back entrance to the hotel. A few people stood around, camera phones on, as the EMTs wheeled out a body covered by a white sheet.
Mitch felt a buzz under his breastbone. “Shit, I hope that’s not our girl.”
One of the cops stopped the EMTs and folded back the sheet enough to look at the person’s face. He asked a couple of questions, then let the EMTs load the body.
From that distance, Mitch couldn’t tell who it was, but it was definitely a guy. Not Megan. He and Caroline exchanged a glance and she shrugged. “Wonder what happened to him?”
The room phone buzzed and Caroline hustled to the desk and snapped it up. A second later she hung up and grabbed her shoes.
“Time to go,” she said. “The car is waiting.”
* * *
The party was already in full swing in Dominion’s penthouse and when they entered, everyone from the key grips to the top executives checked them out.
More Caroline than Mitch. Everyone watched Caroline.
The pressure didn’t seem to affect her. She smiled and interacted with the others like a pro while he tried not to lose his shit every ti
me a guy approached her.
He stayed as close as he could as they both searched for Toby but he couldn’t stick to her like he wanted to without blowing his cover. Plus, there were plenty of people wanting to talk to him too. At one point, he had a crowd of women around him that rivaled Caroline’s circle of interested bachelors. He caught her watching him while he laughed at the makeup gal’s latest joke. She gave him the stink eye and he knew he would catch hell later.
He winked at her. Looking forward to it, babe.
Meanwhile, where the hell was Toby?
Mitch asked a couple of people, but no one had seen him. Someone suggested he’d come down with something. Maybe the same thing as Cole, the kid who’d partied with Steven and couldn’t hold his liquor. Now they were both MIA. Mitch’s instincts buzzed a warning.
He was texting Grey when the music stopped and the head executive motioned for everyone to follow him outside to the rooftop veranda.
A small stage had been set up near the pool, complete with four chairs and a couple of cameras. Luscious plants were grouped in the corners. Strings of lights dotted the edges, adding to the ambience.
“Where’s bachelorette number one? Tami?” the man called, one hand holding a drink. He wore a giant gold ring on his pinky and a 1970’s porn mustache. Mitch hadn’t seen him the night of the auditions but figured he’d probably been behind the one-way mirrors.
Caroline emerged from the penthouse, flanked by two of the other bachelors. “I’m here.”
“Come on over,” Porn Stache said, motioning her to the tall studio chair slightly separated from the other three. “Have a seat.”
She smiled, hefted herself onto the chair, and crossed her legs, glancing around. “What’s going on?”
A guy with a ponytail stepped behind a camera and Mitch saw the red light on the top come on. More people trailed out of the penthouse onto the patio. A young gal in a Goth outfit flipped some lights on, pointing them at Caroline and making her blink.
Porn Stache patted Caroline’s bare shoulder. “You’re probably too young to remember the Dating Game, but we like to do a little behind-the-scenes stuff with our bachelors and bachelorettes. Bonus video for the show’s website. Our viewers eat that up, you know. So we’re going to play our version of the Dating Game.”
Undercover Justice Page 6
