Straight to the Heart

by S. J. Coles

  Leo stared at him but didn’t answer. Gibson sighed and opened her mouth, but Leo cut her off. “I saw him, okay?”

  “You saw him what?” James said after a breathless moment.

  “I saw him sneak out of that meeting and sneak back again about ten minutes later.”

  Gibson’s mask had slipped. “What time?”

  “About nine.”

  “How did you see this?”

  Leo slumped in his chair. “I hacked the surveillance camera feed from my workstation computer.”

  “You did what?” Gibson said, slowly.

  “That meeting concerned all of us. Renny, Bruce, even Sassy, for all she’s a bigoted hick. BI hooking up with Loadstone Inc. affects all of us, not just the fat cats with the big offices. More so, even. We’re the ones that will be out of a job if they start outsourcing the lab work. It was total bullshit that we weren’t allowed to attend. And on top of that, old man Benson had said he wasn’t attending either, in protest.”

  “He had?”

  “Yeah,” Leo said with a sour expression. “Bet none of the senior management mentioned that, huh? Too busy covering their own asses.”

  “How did you hear of it?” Gibson pressed.

  “Sassy, of course. She heard him going off on one to the department heads the week before the presentation. He’d been researching Loadstone and found some things he wasn’t so hot about.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know,” Leo pushed the file on the table back toward Gibson as though he couldn’t bear to have it near him. “Sassy ain’t exactly versed in business lingo. She just hears Benson say that he’d found out some stuff that was making him re-think the deal. The DHs said it was too late. He made a big song and dance about not attending the meeting and using the time to research his own presentation for the shareholders.”

  “Forgive me, Mr. Hannah,” Gibson said in a tone that wasn’t sorry at all, “but Miss Andrews gave us the distinct impression that she is not fond of you.” Leo snorted but Gibson continued. “I’m finding it hard to believe she would tell you anything, especially as she’s already denied telling you about this disagreement between Torez and Benson that you constantly allude to.”

  “You’re right. Sassy don’t talk to me,” he acknowledged. “She talks to the room in general, to anyone who’ll listen or pretends to. Bruce pretends to listen because he’s got the hots for her.”

  “Bruce Manning? The lab manager?”

  “Yeah. We’re a hotbed of scandal, ain’t we?” He shot James a glance. “But now shit’s hit the fan, of course goddamn Sassy has zipped her lip. But, yeah, I knew anything could happen at that presentation evening and I wanted to know what it was going to be. I hacked the camera stream from the conference room to see what was being said.”

  “And?” James pressed.

  Leo met him in the eye. “I saw Torez leave halfway through one of the presentations. He went out the fire exit. He was gone about ten minutes then he slipped back in.”

  “And how come none of the other attendees reported this?” Gibson said, unconvinced.

  “He was in the army. He knows how to move without drawing attention,” Leo returned. “Besides, his chair was at the back on the end. The only person facing him was the one giving the presentation.”

  “And who was that?”

  Leo folded his arms. “Melissa Benson.”

  Gibson went still, her thoughts turning over behind her eyes. “Did you record this footage?”

  “No,” Leo said, with bitter regret that James couldn’t believe was feigned.

  “And why didn’t you save us all a lot of time and heartache and mention this in your very first interview, instead of manipulating my colleague?”

  “I didn’t manipulate anyone,” Leo said. He kept his eyes on his hands. “I never meant to, anyway.” He flicked James a drawn look then dropped his gaze again. “I didn’t mention it because…I was scared.”

  “Scared?”

  Leo gave her a bitter smile. “I tried to point you at Ray…informally…because if anyone found out I hacked into that meeting, I wouldn’t have had to wait for any business expansion. I’d’ve been out on my ass that second.”

  “So you lied to the FBI rather than lose your job?” Gibson stated.

  “Look, lady. I’m the best analyst Benson Industries has, but I’ve got no fancy qualifications or degrees. It’s all self-taught and, as you can see, I don’t exactly have a glowing resume. I lose this job and I got nothing. Literally, nothing. Do you know what it’s like to have nothing?”

  Gibson shifted but didn’t break eye contact.

  “Didn’t think so. Well, I do. And I’ll fight like a bitch before I have to go back to that again.” He made an angry noise, pushed his glasses into his hair and rubbed his eyes. “Look. I’m selfish, I’m a flake and I make bad decisions—but I’m not a liar and I’m sure as hell not a murderer.”

  Gibson tapped her pen on the table a few times. She regarded Leo for a long, heavy moment. James watched her rather than meet Leo’s eyes. Eventually, she glanced at the clock and deactivated the recorder. She met James’s gaze and nodded at the door. He followed her out into the corridor with his head buzzing.

  “No confession,” she murmured.

  “Do you believe him? About Torez leaving the meeting?”

  “Do you?”

  James looked away. “I don’t know.”

  “Dammit, James. This is what you’re good at.”

  “He’s different…” He stopped and took a steadying breath. “I have trouble reading him. He…he can…”

  “Get in your head?” Gibson ventured, but her tone was gentle. James scowled at the floor. She heaved a sigh, looking at the nearest clock. “We can’t keep him. Our case is still too thin. Dammit all, I really thought he’d talk.”

  “I’ll call Samar Deol at Information Services,” James said robotically. “Get him to go through Benson’s computer with a fine-tooth comb, see if he really was objecting to the expansion.”

  “Get him to check Hannah’s systems too,” Gibson said. “If he really was sitting in the lab hacking the surveillance feed of the meeting, maybe there’ll be a trace of it, and we can at least rule him out.”

  “And rule Torez in?” James ventured carefully.

  Gibson stared at the interview room door for a long moment. “Maybe…if we can find anything more to pin to him other than his ex-boyfriend’s vitriol.”

  “We should at least look into this affair with Mrs. Benson. Otherwise, we’re back to square one,” James said.

  “Hannah’s not off the hook,” Gibson said firmly. “It could all be an act. Being on your own since age fifteen gives you some pretty formidable self-defense mechanisms.” James swallowed his response. “But we need more evidence,” Gibson continued, her gaze sliding away as though she could see his thoughts. “And we’re wasting time standing here talking.”

  “Shall I release him?”

  “No,” Gibson said, face hardening. “Let him stew for the last hour we can legally hold him. At the very least, he needs to learn respect for authority. I’ll instruct Sheriff Coyle to release him when his time’s up.” She strode away, calling over her shoulder. “Find me some evidence, James. I’m off to light a fire under the ballistics department.”

  Chapter Nine

  James buried himself in forensic reports, statements and making phone calls to Sheriff Coyle’s office to chase all outstanding interviews and background checks. Gibson’s words about the misconduct review echoed in his ears, but a gray, cloying fog continually attempted to swamp his thoughts and muddy his usually instinctive lines of reasoning.

  His mind kept see-sawing between visions of Leo, head thrown back, skin flushed and eyes dark with desire and him sitting in the cell, hollow-eyed, pale and furiously hurting. He shook his head and turned his attention back to his laptop, but the screen blurred. He rubbed his eyes and tried again, but the letters of the reports had ceased to mean any
thing.

  He grabbed his coat, telling himself some fresh air would help clear his head. Without even realizing where he was heading, he found himself descending the ladder to the small fingernail of deserted beach that lay between the sea walls and the endless rolling ocean. He gazed around, vaguely surprised to find where he was, and heaved several deep lungfuls of the brisk, iodine-scented air. The waves washed against the sand. The gunmetal-gray ocean stretched to the white horizon. The flop and hiss of the water filled his ears. He moved to the waterline, gazing out to the cloud-wreathed sky arching over the mass of roiling water, and willed it to soothe him like it had the last time.

  The confusion in his head slowly faded to background noise, leaving one insistent suggestion behind. He blinked a couple of times, but it didn’t go away. He swallowed, pulled out his phone, hesitated, then dialed.

  The ringing tone buzzed in his ear. The wind lifted then dropped then lifted again, ruffling his hair and stinging his cheeks. His heart sank when the phone continued to ring then, finally, he answered.

  “Jimmy?”

  “Hey, Dad.”

  There was a pause. “Something wrong?”

  James took a moment to allow himself a smile. “What makes you think anything’s wrong?”

  “I can hear it. You hurt?”

  “No, not hurt,” he lied.

  “Then what is it?”

  James paused. “I screwed up, Dad. Big time.”

  There was a pause on the other end of the line. “What happened?”

  James chewed on his lip until his dad prompted him again then heard himself explaining everything. He kept his voice level and attempted to keep the facts salient and the emotion in check, though it got harder the more he talked.

  “And now…” He stopped, cleared his throat and continued. “And now I just don’t know. All I can think about is what we did. What I did. What he might have done and…and I don’t know. I never don’t-know, Dad. It’s sometimes harder to prove who did it than who didn’t…but it’s never been this hard to just know.”

  “Jimmy…” The gentle undercurrent of reassurance in his dad’s voice surprised him. “Pause for breath a second. Just a second.”

  James took another shuddering breath.

  “That’s better.”

  He paced the sand and listened to the silence on the end of the line as his father gathered his thoughts.

  “Okay,” he said, finally. “First of all, put aside the fact that you like this guy.”

  “Like?”

  There was sound over the line that might have been a laugh. “You wouldn’t risk your career over just anyone. Whatever you’ve made yourself think, you really aren’t that stupid. But anyway, try to forget that for a sec.”

  James scanned the endless sea and spreading beach, then closed his eyes. “Fine, I’m trying.”

  “Now,” his dad went on, “look inside. Deep inside. You looking?”

  “I’m looking.”

  “Do you think he did it?”

  James didn’t answer.

  “Come on, Jimmy. You’re a good cop. Deep down…do you think this boy killed these people?”

  James stared out to sea. He could suddenly smell cigarette smoke and peppermint. He remembered the taste of Leo’s skin, the easy warmth of his smile, his impossibly colored but clear eyes and the honest, responsive nature of his body. He remembered the soft music, the worn but clean sheets of his bed, the sound of his voice as he breathed his name in his ear and the way he’d looked afterwards, glowing with sated warmth and smiling at him like he was a completely unexpected but not unwelcome surprise.

  “No. No, I don’t think he did.”

  “You’ve got good instincts, son,” his dad said. “Trust them.”

  “How do I know I’m not just wanting him to be innocent? Like…really, really wanting?”

  “Because you just know,” his dad concluded. “Which means someone else must have done it, right? Find the someone else. Problem solved.”

  “But the misconduct review…”

  “Leave the review to take care of itself, Jimmy. You’re a good agent and a good man. That’s what counts, whatever happens.”

  James smiled. “Thanks, Dad. I…” He struggled for the right words. “Thanks.”

  “No problem, son. Now, hang up and get on with it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He was smiling as he cut the call. His roiling insides had settled. His head was clearer. He walked back to the ladder, scrolling through the contacts on his work phone and rang Information Services.

  “Solomon,” the clipped, accented voice sounded in his ear, “what’s up?”

  “Anything on the Benson systems yet?”

  A noisy sigh. “I only got the cloned systems two hours ago, James.”

  “You’ve worked magic in less time than that, Samar.”

  “Okay, flattery will get you everywhere.”

  James heard the smile in the older man’s voice and the sound of furiously clicking keys.

  “I haven’t got through all the CEO’s stuff yet, but I’ve pretty much finished with the lab tech’s.”

  James froze at the bottom of the ladder. “And?”

  A pause. “Nothing, sorry. Nothing you wouldn’t expect of a twenty-six-year old male’s work computer, anyway.”

  “Meaning, what?”

  “Well, his browsing history is on the risqué side for a work computer. But he knows his stuff. There’s hardly any traceable remnants of the caches left.”

  “What about evidence of him hacking the security cameras?”

  A pause. “There’s no trace. That doesn’t mean it didn’t happen,” Samar added. “But it’s not the sort of process that leaves a footprint. It was a live-stream and he didn’t record it. And he would have probably used a security network, which this login wouldn’t have access to. But if he’s any kind of programmer, he’ll know how to set up dupe logins.”

  James ran a hand through his hair, staring at his sand-encrusted shoes. “So we’ve got nothing to prove or disprove his story?”

  “No. Sorry.”

  James pressed a knuckle to his lips for a long moment. He stared out to sea. He could hear his dad’s words in his head. Samar drew a breath to speak again when he got in first. “I want you to check into Horatio Torez’s history again.”

  “Again? The man hasn’t had so much as a library fine in the last ten years.”

  “Look further back,” James insisted, remembering the hot, angry black of the man’s eyes. “He was in the army. Check his duty records.”

  “You got a warrant for that?”

  “I can’t get a warrant. I have no evidence. It’s just a feeling…”

  “You can’t get into the armed forces’ duty records with a feeling.”

  “Please, Samar. It’s a strong feeling. Besides, if anyone asks, you did it under my orders. I’m going down anyway, so it won’t make any difference.”

  There was a thoughtful pause on the other end of the line, then he heard the clicking of keys resume. “Fine, as it’s you—and as you swear on your ass you’ll take the rap for any fallout?”

  “I swear.”

  “Okay. Give me a second.”

  James paced between the pier legs, scuffing dried seaweed with his feet, releasing waves of salty, stagnant odors and firmly ignored the swelling bubble of uncertainty that threatened to engulf his chest as the silence stretched on.

  “Oh,” Samar murmured a minute later. “Oh. Well, would you look at that.”

  “What? What is it?”

  “Sergeant Horatio José Torez was dishonorably discharged from the United States Army in 2007.”

  James stopped pacing. “Can you see why?”

  “He was court-martialed. The charges were Threatening Behavior and Misconduct Toward a Superior Officer.”

  James’ heart jumped. “Any details?”

  “Sorry, no, not without actively hacking military court files, which even your doomed ass couldn�
�t save me from,” Samar muttered. “But as he was discharged rather than thrown in prison, I would guess that either the prosecution didn’t have enough evidence or the officer dropped the charges.”

  James stared at the sea-rusted iron pilings, his mind whirling. He started back for the ladder at a run. “Thanks, Samar. I owe you.”

  “You sure do. That better be worth it.”

  James climbed the ladder so quickly that his muscles were burning by the time his feet hit the salt-rimmed boards of the pier. He didn’t wait to catch his breath before ringing Gibson and racing back toward the seafront.

  “Solomon, ballistics is still stonewalling me. Tell me you’ve got something?”

  “I’ve got something.”

  “What?”

  “Torez was dishonorably discharged from the army thirteen years ago. Looks like he either hurt someone or threatened to—someone of superior rank.”

  He could hear Gibson’s mind turning over. “Where did you get this information, Agent?”

  James winced. “You’ll have deniability if I don’t tell you, ma’am. But I think it’s worth asking him about.”

  “James—”

  “He’s got prior tendency to challenge authority figures.…violently.”

  “Thin, agent.”

  “You saw the way he looked in that interview room,” James insisted, weaving between pedestrians and heading toward the hotel. “And Hannah saw him leave the presentation evening. There’s also a chance he was having an affair with the victim’s wife. We can’t afford to ignore all this.”

  Gibson was silent almost for the same amount of time it took James to reach the hotel parking lot. “James, I understand what you’re saying, but think. We can’t approach him and his lawyer with illegally obtained intelligence.”

  James paused, taking a moment to fight back frustration. “I’ll talk to him, boss. I’ve got nothing to lose.”

  “You’ve got plenty to lose, Agent,” Gibson added with a surprising amount of emotion. “I won’t let you hammer another nail in the coffin of your career.”

  James hung up with a guilty prickle across his shoulder blades and climbed into the car.

  No one answered the door of Torez’s fine, red-brick townhouse. He paced the covered porch impatiently, shading his eyes and peering in through the windows, but all the blinds were drawn. The man’s Chrysler and Porsche were both in the driveway, but there were no lights on behind any of the blinds.