Deep Extraction

by DiAnn Mills

  The third blue bubble belonged to Franc Lawd. His interest in the Texas City drill site hadn’t been determined nor whether he had motive to hack into Nathan’s pacemaker. His Army background was spotless. Solid alibi during the sniper shooting. Cole typed shady in the bubble.

  A nagging thought pinched his brain, a suspicion he hoped sprang from lack of sleep. If Lance had the know-how to bypass his father’s security-protected computer, then he could have hacked into the devices. Terrible thought. But there nonetheless. The many confrontations with Nathan surfaced, how the youth’s spiteful words and behavior had tested Nathan’s and Sally’s patience. With his dad out of the picture, Lance could play man of the house, and his mother’s honor would remain intact. He’d never been in trouble outside of home, and his friends were good kids. Cole prayed to be wrong. He placed Lance’s name inside a blue bubble with the words wounded and immature. Still, it’d be short of impossible for Lance to bomb the oil rig. He’d been in school during the crime. Cole relaxed slightly.

  Then there was Jack, the sweet boy who adored his mother. Cole placed his name in another blue bubble, but there was really nothing to deliberate. Never gave Nathan or Sally an ounce of trouble, so he typed caring and devoted.

  Nathan, you had everything. Why ruin your family and your reputation for one dirty weekend after another?

  Cole typed in what they’d verified about the names in blue circles. The reason was critical, but the suspect most likely had deep psychological issues, ones that had festered over time. Sally and Anita both fit that category. He was beginning to sound like Max. The brainstorming report looked sterile, cold, and unsympathetic.

  Two separate crimes working against Nathan?

  He read through the reports on the pipe bomb used at the drill site before Nathan’s death. Although the investigation and further analysis showed the components could have been bought anywhere, he hoped a detail had slipped their attention.

  Nothing. No fingerprints. No model numbers that led to a buyer. No signature matching other bombings. He made a note to widen the signature match search parameters.

  A text sailed into his cell phone from Tori.

  Thinking & need help.

  Why aren’t u asleep?

  Same reason u aren’t.

  What’s up?

  Think I know who leaked 2 the media.

  Who?

  Call me.

  Three days ago, he hadn’t met Tori Templeton, and now they were in constant communication. She answered on the first ring.

  “Fairly certain Max made the call,” she said. “With the way his mind works, he’d justify releasing details of Nathan’s affair.”

  “Here I thought Lance might have confided in one of his friends. Why do I think there’s more you’re about to tell me?”

  “Have you checked the latest media report?”

  “Not for about twenty minutes. What’s going on?”

  “Our names came up as part of a task force with Max, and he’s the lead.”

  Cole groaned. “Excuse me while I pin a bull’s-eye on my chest for the killer.” He thought about the agent he wanted to respect. “He’s decided the killer is Sally or Anita. Reasoning isn’t far off, except he wants to stamp guilty without evidence. He obviously made the call before we talked to Lawd or the media would have wind of his interview too.” Then it hit Cole. “He wants to go out with hero etched on his tombstone.”

  “Exactly. Max is acting on impulse, wanting to end his career with a huge punch. The only positive is the media is shoving the blame on the women, while the real killer laughs and relaxes.”

  Cole walked to the fridge for a Coke. “Giving us time to hunt him or her down.”

  “An edge anyway. I wish you’d known Max a couple of years ago. Spot-on in every case.”

  “Tori, this is what we signed up for—facing a killer and the barrel end of a weapon.” He remembered one of his dad’s sayings. “You heard me say Dad worked on an oil platform. Good money, but my mother was always afraid for him. He told her, ‘A pilot who signs up to fly through the eye of a storm doesn’t complain about turbulence.’”

  “A wise man. Is he still living?”

  “Retired and busy in Florida. Almost have to make an appointment with him and Mom to visit.”

  “Thanks. I needed a reminder of why I signed up for the FBI. For me it’s the constant pursuit of keeping others safe through exposing criminals. What about you?”

  “We have similar goals. Back to our case.” Had Sally shared anything about Lance with Tori? “What’s your take on Lance?”

  “At first a little nervous about what we might find, but if his school reports are any indication, he’s clear.”

  “His computer skills bother me.”

  “I know what you’re thinking. If he could gain access into Nathan’s laptop, then he could hack into his father’s other devices.”

  Cole allowed silence to speak for him.

  “I’ll call Sally in the morning. See what I can find out.”

  “Are you sure? Because I can handle it.”

  “I volunteered.”

  The finality in her tone told him to back off. “Where are you with what we’ve uncovered?”

  “For the record, I believe Anita Krantz is innocent. Nathan’s charm matched his brilliance. Especially with women. I saw how he mesmerized Sally when she was dating another man, Nathan’s best friend. Nathan convinced her this guy didn’t love her like he did.” Tori paused. “At the time he came to me in tears about his love for her. I thought I heard sincerity and told Sally about his visit, and I’ve never doubted his love until now. There was a time I thought he pushed for a wedding date, but that was my only reservation. My point is, I can see how he charmed Anita into being his mistress.”

  Cole read into the crisp tone of her voice. “Had he approached you?”

  “Not in the way I sensed a problem. When my brother died, he counseled me. I appreciated his caring mannerisms, but when he asked if I wanted to talk over dinner, I refused. Told Sally, and she said he’d asked her opinion about it first. Never thought much more of it until now.”

  Cole sensed again his own attraction to the dark-haired beauty talking to him. The continuing doubts about a man he’d called friend bothered him tremendously. He pushed them aside. Answers would unfold, and he’d weigh in as an investigator who wore his game day shirt, like the ASAC. “All right. What about dealing with Max? If you’re right about him alerting the media, I have reservations about working with him.”

  A deafening silence met him for a long moment. “Me too. One of us could be killed. I’ll confront him first thing in the morning. I’ll handle this interview. Max and I have been partners too long for me to let this slide. Cancer is no excuse to deliberately put others at risk, and he’s already been warned.”

  “What about breakfast first? I can meet you at the office around six thirty and go from there.”

  “To talk the case and Max?”

  “And eat.”

  She laughed lightly, and he enjoyed the musical sound. “Okay. See you then. Good night.” The phone clicked in his ear.

  He looked forward to having Tori to himself.

  TORI WALKED the worn path to Kevin’s grave. Calming night sounds soothed her heart, as they always did, and the blackness of night wrapped her in a cloak of peace. She stopped and closed her eyes, allowing herself to relive a distant memory from when she was nine and Kevin had treated her to ice cream.

  “What flavor for you today, Princess Tori?”

  “Vanilla.” She giggled.

  “Are you ever going to expand your horizons to taste the flavors of the kingdom?”

  “Never, Sir Kevin.” She took his hand. “With vanilla, I can add fruit or candy or syrup. Whatever I want to make it special.”

  Inside the shop, he chose three scoops of various flavors, and she ordered her favorite. Kevin pointed to a small round table for two in a corner. “What fairy tale suits you today, Princess Tor
i?”

  She loved the way he told stories. His voice rose and fell according to the character and action, and he knew just when to pause or make a face. Once seated with her dish of vanilla ice cream drenched in pineapple syrup, she touched her chin with her finger. “I think Noah.”

  He lifted a brow as if he was surprised, though it was a common request. “Why? It’s not a fairy tale.”

  “I love the way the animals were different, and God loved them all.”

  Tonight she could hear Kevin roaring like a lion and neighing like a horse. But her reason for selecting the story then and recalling it now revolved around her brother’s idea that God loved every creature whether it used four legs or two, crawled on the ground, flew with the wind, or swam in the sea. How they looked or survived had no bearing. This was the God Kevin wanted her to find. And tonight she felt closer. Logic told her the overwhelming professional and personal messes in her life demanded an explanation. While deep inside, she craved something to wrap her tightly and never let go.

  Was it foolishness, or had she begun to inch toward answers, toward finding God?

  “Special Agent Templeton?”

  She smiled and gazed into the familiar face of Officer Richards, his silver-gray hair highlighted by the streetlamp. “It’s about time you called me Tori.”

  “I will, and for the record, Officer Richards sounds archaic.”

  “Can’t do it. My mother would thrash me for not respecting your wisdom.”

  “At least you stayed away from calling me old.”

  She stood and hugged him, a first. “How are you? Your family?”

  “Coasting. Son claims he’s glad to be in the Navy. Talks of one day being a SEAL. Daughter can’t see us until she’s had two more weeks in rehab. Wife and I are enjoying the empty nest. Like being newlyweds again.”

  “Progress is important.”

  “And you?” he said.

  “Working Nathan Moore’s murder case and the bombing of his oil rig.”

  “Been following the news reports. Be careful. He sure has surprised a lot of folks.”

  “True. The investigation has us uncovering one revelation after another. And his wife is my best friend.”

  “I’m sorry. How is Mrs. Moore?”

  “Dealing.”

  “That can be moment by moment.” He wasn’t a stranger to the heartache of family disappointments. “I’ll leave you to your time with Kevin.”

  “Any sage advice before you go?” Silence enveloped them.

  “Things are rarely only as they seem. Your case, the people in your life, even your thoughts and fears have a purpose. Good night, Miss Tori.”

  Early the following day, Tori waved at Cole from the FBI office security entrance. She’d finally fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning, and when the alarm jarred her from peaceful oblivion, she’d wanted to throw it. The first thing that popped into her mind was breakfast with Cole. A sweet twinge of excitement followed. Whew, the man sent distraction whirling through her at the mention of his name. Or his voice. Perceptive and intuitive. Rugged good looks. Too many disturbances for one single woman. Was he seeing anyone?

  Now she fast approached the man. He walked with a swagger that should be outlawed. “Morning,” he said. “Hungry?”

  Her pulse sped. “Starved. Where are we headed?”

  “A breakfast café not too far from here, a mom-and-pop restaurant. Omelets, pancakes, and endless cups of coffee. You name it.”

  “Sounds healthier than my usual Venti Starbucks, which I haven’t had yet, and a promise to start the day better tomorrow.”

  He swung a look her way that caused her to shiver to her toes. “The downside is falling asleep on the job.”

  Be professional . . . not distracted. “Did you see we have the court order to image Anita Krantz’s personal devices?”

  “Yep. A team will handle it later this morning.”

  Cole drove to the café, and they made small talk about lack of sleep. Until caffeine was locked and loaded into her body, she wasn’t ready to discuss pressing matters—the bombing, two murders, and Max.

  The moment Cole opened the door to the restaurant, the scent of bacon and eggs wafted around her, definitely intoxicating.

  “Can we work here all day?” she said.

  “I wish. They have to-go coffee, so we can keep fueled.”

  They scooted into a booth, and the server took their orders—omelets, sausage, bacon, fruit, and grits. She preferred grits with honey, but he swore the benefits of cheese and hot sauce. Too bad they weren’t just friends sharing a meal instead of investigators. Tonight she’d sleep and stop this nonsense thinking.

  “Are you dating anyone?” Cole said while they waited for their food.

  Her stomach did a hip-hop dance. “Not currently. Why?”

  “The obvious.” He winked. “Am I in trouble?”

  “Haven’t decided. Is candid a prerequisite for a US Marshal?”

  “I’ll make sure it is.”

  She smiled and took a sip of coffee. “I’ll think about it. Give me a reason why I’d want to date you after the case is over.”

  “Aside from my compelling good looks, wit, and charm?”

  “You forgot ego.”

  He straightened his shoulders. “I’m a nice guy. Great friend. Loyal—”

  “So’s a cocker spaniel.”

  A grin spread over his face. “I’m giving you my excellent qualities first. Honestly, my experience with women slides downhill when I have to break a date because of work.”

  She’d been there too many times, until she decided the FBI and relationships were a disaster. “Typical of our jobs.”

  “My faith is important to me, and I know you attend church. Nathan told me.”

  Kevin, must you haunt me in death? “I haven’t made a decision about God yet.” The curious look on his face moved her to explain. “When my brother was dying, he made me promise to find God. That’s why I’m in church, sorta regular.”

  “Many of us have taken the same quest.”

  She thanked the young man serving their food. Once he disappeared, she gazed into Cole’s eyes. Not really sure what to think of this strange man. “You make it sound like a medieval journey.”

  “There’s nothing old-fashioned or primitive about faith in God.”

  An uncomfortable chill left her with an ill feeling, the same feeling she’d experienced with Kevin when he talked about the God stuff. Hours ago, she wanted to learn more on her own. Not discuss it with anyone. “It’s not my intention to be disrespectful of anyone’s religion. Neither am I the type of person to jump on board a belief without first examining and analyzing every detail. Until then, the idea of God as Creator is a theory, which is totally different from faith.” She held up her hand. “Faith is an acceptance of things without proof. But I need tangible evidence, the same way Max does in proving Sally’s innocence.” She closed her eyes and stared at her plate. “Guess you heard more than you bargained for.”

  Cole picked up his fork. “Those who doubt the most find the strongest faith. I’m still interested in Tori Templeton and her views about God.”

  “How did we get on this theological discussion?”

  He poked a generous amount of eggs into his mouth. She took a lesser bite. “I asked if you were dating anyone,” he said. “Headed uphill after that.”

  Tori nearly choked. “Remind me to call you when my life turns into a nightmare. I could use the optimism.”

  “I will. We needed breakfast conversation. What’s the plan with Max?”

  This she could handle. “He’s violated our partnership and placed our lives in jeopardy.”

  “You’re positive he leaked the info.”

  She nodded. “Ninety percent. He won’t lie. His irrational way of thinking could have alienated us from Sally and the boys. As it is, our trust will need to be earned, and time is crucial.”

  Cole studied her. “You asked for an opportunity to handle the si
tuation. But if we aren’t able to control his behavior, I’ll take matters into my own hands. You realize that, don’t you?”

  “Unfortunately I do.” Tori pushed back her plate and wished she’d opted for a Starbucks Venti—alone.

  The sound of texts broke the uncomfortable silence.

  Cole read from his phone. “The wounded man from yesterday has a clean record. Only been working for Moore a few weeks. He said the men liked Ustach. All he knew. The additional background check on Preston Ustach came back clean.”

  A second report slid into their phones. She blew out her relief. “This is one I wanted to see, the results of staff interviews at Moore Oil & Gas.”

  They read the findings.

  “Loyalty at its finest,” Cole said. “Not a single disparaging comment.” He looked at her with those amazing sky-blue eyes. Enough to cause a woman to forget her job.

  “We have to be missing something.”

  “We’ll dig deeper until evidence surfaces. Seriously, the consensus is the execs, office personnel, and janitors were aware that Nathan sometimes spent the night at the office, but all denied a woman kept him company.”

  “He probably flipped for happy hour on a regular basis to show his good-guy status.” Her mind drifted to what the secret bedroom entailed. Fury danced across her senses. If she didn’t put aside her animosity for Nathan, she’d be accused of not conducting a fair investigation.

  No one had the right to take another person’s life. Murder was a vicious crime, and while motivations could be understood, even create sympathy, it was still against the law.

  Hopelessness did a number on her, but she recognized it and finished her coffee. Today would be different. First she’d talk to Sally and subtly ask about Jack’s and Lance’s schoolwork. Then she’d handle the matter with Max and make progress on the case.

  TORI RELEASED A PENT-UP SIGH and set her cell phone on her desk before focusing on Cole standing in her doorway. “Sally says the boys are doing okay with the tutor. Miss their friends. I asked about them falling behind in classes that require a lab or in sports, and . . .” She folded her hands. “I feel like a weasel manipulating a conversation to get info about Lance.”