by Dee Davis
"You know as well as I do that evidence can be manufactured." This from Nigel, who, despite his doubts, was obviously not willing to convict her without at least a hearing. Ridiculously, she felt relief. As if her knight had climbed back up on his charger—or at least was making an effort to do so.
"Look, I don't even know where the man lives. And if I did, I couldn't have been there. I was at a diner under the Brooklyn Bridge waiting for my handler."
"You went there straight from the party?" Gabe resumed questioning. It was standard procedure, but she'd never been the subject of it. At least not like this.
"I stopped at home to change clothes."
"Did anyone see you?"
For the first time she regretted her walk-up. "No. My building doesn't have a doorman. But there are security cameras. They ought to show my arrival."
"It's a start," Gabe said, making notes. "What about your handler? Can he verify your meeting?"
She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could speak, Nigel answered for her. "He's disappeared. Never showed up for the meeting and isn't answering his phone."
"So obviously something here isn't right."
Melissa shot Madison a grateful smile. She was capable of holding her own in a tough situation, but it was always nice to have allies and evidently Madison was suspending her disbelief—at least for the moment.
"Or a sign that Melissa is lying." Payton's cold gaze met hers, his scarred face completely devoid of emotion.
"Look, if you're so certain I'm guilty, why the hell don't you just turn me over to the authorities?" The words were out before she could stop them and she immediately wished them back. These people, despite their doubts, were her best hope. That or working it on her own. And at least for the moment, that wasn't an option she wanted to consider.
"Surely that's not necessary." Madison shot a significant look at her husband, who shrugged in response. "The truth is, we don't have all the facts. If you compare Melissa's story to the one Harrison has dug up, you have admit there are conflicts. I think the least we can do is check some of it out You know as well as I do that if someone is trying to frame Melissa, turning her in would be playing right into their hands."
"We're not turning her in." Nigel's response was immediate, and there was no arguing.
"Fine." Payton looked as if he wanted to argue but didn't, his friendship with Nigel overcoming even his own reservations. "But we're going to check it out." There was no missing the fact that he still didn't trust her.
Which was perfectly acceptable since the sentiment went both ways.
"Not so fast." Cullen Pulaski stepped into the room holding a sheaf of papers, his hard gaze sweeping across them all. "Everything's been hushed up, but I've managed to get my hands on something more." He passed the sheets of paper to Gabe, who skimmed them and passed them on to Payton. Nigel moved closer to his friend, his hand already out.
"What do they say?" Melissa cut across the heavy silence, her heart pounding as if she were actually guilty of something. She'd lost precious time in that alleyway, but she knew she hadn't killed anyone. Still, that didn't mean the deck wasn't stacked against her.
Nigel turned slowly, his strong face unusually pale. "These are copies of letters the authorities found at Celik's apartment." He held the letters out in mute testimony. "Correspondence from you to Celik. According to what I'm reading here, the two of you had quite a scam going. You pretend to dig around to find the traitor, when all the while you're in bed with the man—quite literally, if these are to be believed. But apparently it wasn't enough, and you wanted more."
"I didn't write any letters. I didn't even know the man."
"I'm afraid these tell a different story." Gabe snagged the letters from Nigel just as he would have dropped them.
"They're typewritten?" Madison came to stand beside her husband, looking down at the letters. "Is there a signature?"
Gabe thumbed through the lot, then shook his head.
Madison chewed on her lower lip, her brows pulled together in concentration. "Nothing at all here to indicate that the letter was actually written by Melissa. Anyone with a word processor could have done it."
Nigel's head jerked up, the flare of hope evident again. "Did they check the originals for prints?"
"Yes." Cullen consulted a report he still held. "Celik's are all over them. Melissa had a partial. It's a match, but not a perfect one. It was too smudged."
"Like maybe someone transferred it," Madison said. "All right. Before we hang anyone, let's sit down and look at the facts."
Nigel nodded. And Melissa was surprised to find herself breathing again. She hadn't realized she'd stopped.
Payton looked totally unconvinced, but he also nodded his consent. Harrison shrugged, and Cullen pulled out a chair. Apparently she was going to have her fifteen minutes.
"So here's how it stacks up." Harrison shot her another apologetic look. "There's a murder weapon with a clearly identified print and a strand of hair. Then there are letters and a partial."
"Weapon and motive," Payton said, his tone more probing than accusing. "Is there a time of death?"
"No autopsy yet, but they're thinking it was between midnight and three," Cullen said, again referring to the report.
"So there's opportunity," Gabe said almost under his breath.
"But she was at the diner waiting for her handler." Nigel crossed his arms, his tone defiant.
"Who has conveniently gone missing," Payton said.
"I'd say that's a point in Melissa's favor." Madison faced Payton. "If he really did place that call, then that makes him our primary suspect."
"Assuming she's telling us the truth." Gabe's words held no malice. "All we have right now is her word."
"Which, as a CIA agent, ought to count for something," Madison insisted.
"Besides, there is proof," Melissa said, glaring at the assembled company. "There were people in the diner. The waitress, a couple of kids and an old man. All we have to do is find them. They should remember me."
"It's a start," Gabe said. "But it's not enough."
"What about the fact that she was sick?" Nigel asked. "Have we heard anything back from Tracy? If we can prove she was poisoned, that'll go a long way to verifying her story."
"No news yet," Cullen said, checking his watch. "But I assume we'll be hearing something soon."
"Look," Melissa said, standing up. "I didn't know this man. I didn't send him letters. I didn't collude with him to transport illegal goods, I didn't blackmail him and I didn't kill him. What I did do was go to a party, run into an old friend—" she emphasized the word, shooting a pointed look in Nigel's direction "—and then get a call from my handler."
"He wanted to meet. So I left the party, went home to change and then headed for the diner. He never showed, and after drinking really bad coffee and eating some pie, I gave up and headed for the subway. Only I never made it, because I had to stop and puke my guts up in an alley. The next thing I remember was waking up in a blood-soaked coat, freezing my ass off, feeling a hell of a lot like a train had just ran through my abdomen."
"I managed to pilfer some clean clothes, made my way to my apartment, saw the conflux of people and decided I needed help. So I called Nigel and met him at his hotel. But not before someone tried to kill me. And through all of that, I might add, I carried the blood-soaked clothing in the hopes that they'd provide some sort of clue as to what the hell was going on. If I was the killer, do you think I'd have hung on to evidence like that? Do you think I'd have run to the very people that were going to be looking for me?" This time her gaze landed squarely on Payton.
"I am not a stupid woman. And I do not make stupid mistakes. If I had been going to kill Hakan Celik, I certainly wouldn't have left a trail of evidence a mile wide in my wake. I may not be black ops, but I've been in this game for fifteen years, which means I've learned a thing or two about clandestine operations. If I murdered someone, believe me, no one would know about it." Melis
sa sank back into her chair, the anger that had been buoying her dissipating almost as quickly as it had come.
"Melissa's right. We need to figure out what's really going on." Harrison seemed to have swung over to the home team. "And the first order of business is to find Wyland."
"Actually, the first order of business would be to take over the case," Nigel said. "It's the only way to be certain that someone isn't constantly nosing about in our business."
"It's not our business," Cullen said. "We have our own situation and frankly it's more important."
"But the letters prove there was a transportation ring. Even if Melissa's involvement was faked, someone knew enough about her assignment to know what it was she was looking for. And what better way to stop her than to frame her as an accomplice in the very matter she's supposed to be investigating?" Madison crossed her arms, her gaze traveling around the table, settling finally on Cullen.
"So you think that this is all related?" Cullen asked.
"I don't think we can make the mistake of assuming it's not."
"But what if Melissa did kill Celik?" Payton asked, but there was a thread of something that hadn't been there before. He was giving her the benefit of the doubt.
"Then we'll be able to watch her." Gabe's pronouncement should have made her angry, but she knew that, like Payton, he was allowing for the possibility that she might be telling the truth.
"So she stays here, and Cullen arranges for Last Chance to take over the investigation." Madison's tone didn't permit any dissention.
"Is that what you want?" Nigel's gaze met Melissa's, and a shiver traced its way along her back. She needed him to be-lieve her. It was more important than she could have ever imagined. And so she'd stay if for no other reason than to prove to him that she was trustworthy.
"Yes."
"I'm going to object on principle," Cullen said. "Not so much because I don't think there's merit to your argument, Madison, but because I think there are bigger fish to fry here. However," he sighed, "I know the way you all work, and if you've made up your minds, you're going to do this with or without my sanction. So you might as well have it. I'll call the President and make the arrangements. Of course, the other agencies will have to be kept in the loop. They'll be able to provide subsidiary help at the very least. And until we have something to corroborate her story, Melissa doesn't leave here. Is that clear?"
"We're agreed," Gabe said.
There was an implication in Cullen's last statement. They'd keep her whereabouts secret for now, but they'd also be watching her—waiting for the other shoe to drop. She should be insulted, but the truth was that if the situation were reversed, she'd be the skeptical one. They were professionals. And truth was, they were stepping out on a limb for her. No, for Nigel.
And that, in and of itself, was something precious. Not everyone had friends like that.
At least she'd never had any.
Well, maybe once, but she'd thrown it away. And now that she'd been given a second chance, she'd managed to arrive at his doorstep drenched in blood and accused of murder.
Wasn't life grand?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"SO HOW MUCH of all this are you buying?" Payton asked Gabe, nodding at the super, who opened Ed Wyland's apartment with barely restrained curiosity.
"Let's just say I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt." Gabe shrugged, then pushed past the super into the handler's apartment. It wasn't much, a three-room walk-up with a tiny portico that passed as a balcony. "That'll be all." He shot the super a withering look. "We'll take it from here."
The man's frown was a clear indication of his displeasure. Payton waited until the super had shuffled through the door, then shut it behind him. It had taken more time than he'd have liked to cut through the bureaucracy that veiled the CIA's agent/handler relationships, but Cullen's perseverance had won the day and now they were standing in the man's apartment.
"You've got to admit that Melissa's record with the Company is exemplary. Not a t uncrossed or an i undotted."
"True, but the best subversives are very good at hiding their activities."
"Not that well." Gabe shook his head. "I think Madison's right. The evidence here is too damning. I mean, if she's that inept her record should reflect it. Add in the fact that her phone records show she did get the call from Wyland and I'm inclined to think she's telling the truth."
"It's not that I want to doubt her, Gabe," Payton protested, feeling like the heavy. "But she can't really explain any of it. fop that off with the fact that no one at the diner remembers seeing her, and you've got to admit I'm not completely crazy."
"I'm not implying anything. I just think we need to gather all the information we can and then make an informed decision."
"If it isn't already too late." Payton knew he was being stubborn, but he wasn't about to take a chance on someone he didn't know. Even if Nigel swore her innocence. He knew firsthand how easy it was to let hormones override common sense.
"It's not too late. And as far as the diner goes, we've only got the waitress's word that Melissa wasn't there."
"And your problem with that is?"
"Simple," Gabe said, pulling open a drawer and riffling through the contents. "I figure that if it was a setup, the waitress had to be in on it. She's the only one who could have drugged Melissa."
"If she was drugged."
"Well that's the lab's purview and I guarantee you that if there was a toxin present, Tracy will find it."
"And in the meantime we chase shadows." Payton sighed, searching through the odds and ends thrown on the man's kitchen counter. Ed Wyland wasn't a believer in cleanliness.
"We'll follow up on the old man and the kids, but odds are against us finding them. They paid cash, and the waitress didn't exactly seem inclined to help us out."
"See no evil and all that?"
"Either that or I-am-evil-and-I'm-hoping-you-won't-notice. Seriously, I think we can't discount the possibility thai the waitress was part of the whole scheme." Gabe as usual was talking sense. And the fact that he was siding with Melissa, or at least giving her a chance, lessened Payton's distrust. Gabe was a discerning man, and quite honestly, he wasn't carrying the same amount of baggage.
Still, it was worth being thorough. "So then maybe Wyland is the key?"
"His record is certainly nondescript. Nothing good, nothing bad. Which makes him a far better candidate for under- the-table dealings than Melissa."
"True," Payton said, considering the options. "He's been working with Melissa from the beginning?"
"Yes. He's been her only handler. But he's been with the Company longer than she has. He started in research and worked his way up from there."
"All of which would support the idea of a happy camper."
"Maybe. Or maybe he thought he should have been promoted faster and saw Melissa as cover for a nice little operation on the side."
"Then why let her be assigned to investigate it?"
"Not his call? Hell, I don't know."
"Well, don't look at me. I feel like we're running around in circles over something that shouldn't have been our play in the first place." Payton sighed and walked over to the table, thumbing through a stack of mail. "Nothing here but bills and advertisements."
"Phone bill?"
"Nope. Just Con Ed, and Hammacher Schlemmer." Payton stuffed them in his pocket anyway. "Let's check the other room."
Like the rest of the apartment, the bedroom was bland, bordering on boring. As if the man never looked at his surroundings. Or just didn't know any better. Payton pulled open the closet.
"Well, that explains a lot," Gabe said, eyeing the empty row of hangers. A large gap in the clutter on the shelf above the hanging rod stood testament to what had probably been home to a suitcase.
Payton jerked open the bureau drawers revealing scattered remnants of the contents. "Looks like he cleared out in a hurry."
"Which could fit any one of a hundred scenarios." Gabe slarnmed hi
s hand on the top of the chest. "We need answers and all we're getting is more questions."
"He couldn't have been operating on his own. I mean, he wouldn't have the contacts to run this kind of a black-market organization."
"Celik could have been his partner." Gabe leaned back against the bureau.
"And he turned on Celik and framed Melissa? There are a hell of a lot of holes in that theory."
"I'm just trying to fit the pieces together." Gabe blew out a long breath and pushed away from the chest of drawers.
"I know." Payton sat down on the end of the bed. "So what have we got? A CIA handler on the run. Another agent framed for murder."
"You're beginning to believe—"
Payton shook his head, cutting Gabe off. "I'm not buying into anything at the moment. But I do agree that this whole things smells."
"Let's look at this from another angle. If Melissa was working with Wyland or Celik, then what would be the advantage in her running back to the Company?"
"You mean the call to Nigel? Maybe she didn't know he'd bring us in?"
Gabe shook his head. "She had to have had an idea. She knew what he was working on. And she certainly couldn't have planned it ahead of time. There's no way she could have known that Nigel was going to be at the party. We didn't even know until just before time."
"All right, but there still could be an angle."
"You need Sam." Gabe slapped Payton on the back with a wry grin.
"What's my wife got to do with it?" he asked, glaring up at his friend.
"Lack of sex has made you one suspicious dude." Gabe's smile bordered on wicked.
"I fail to see the correlation." Payton scowled, standing up. "If anything I'm the only one seeing things clearly. One look at your wife and all you see is sunshine and rainbows."
"And you don't feel that way?" Gabe's eyebrow shot up in punctuation.
"Of course I do." Payton couldn't help his smile. Sam was his whole world, simple as that. "But it doesn't have to impair my thinking."
"Fine. We'll agree to disagree." Gabe laughed. "Right now, though, I think we need to finish our search and report back to the safe house. Maybe Madison and Nigel have had more luck."
