by CW Browning
Blake said Michael would see what he could find out about the witness. He wouldn’t even give her the name. Stephanie's lips twitched. Blake wasn’t stupid. He knew if he gave her the name, she’d start poking around.
Stephanie turned her attention back to the laptop screen as the database opened and she quickly set Blake and his troubles out of her mind. She’d worry about him later. Right now, she had to find out what she could about this Trent Whitfield, and why he was suddenly Angela’s shadow. Why did he show up at the viewing for a man he’d never met? And why did he drive out into the Pine Barrens looking for Angela?
Stephanie paused thoughtfully. Alina said he was attacked by her hawk. Birds of prey were no joke. If Raven did his job, Trent would definitely have spent the rest of the night in the ER. Typing rapidly, Stephanie forewent the national database for a moment, turning instead to the local hospitals. About half an hour later, she found what she was looking for. Trent Whitfield was admitted into the Virtua Emergency Room in Voorhees at 1:05am Tuesday morning with severe lacerations.
“Well, that’s that,” Stephanie murmured. “He was definitely the one Raven attacked.”
She minimized the screen and went back to the federal database.
“Alright, Trent Whitfield. Let’s see who you are and why the hell you’re here.”
“Son of a—!” Damon exclaimed. “You’re sure?”
Michael stared at him, then looked at Alina.
“Of course I’m sure. What’s the big deal with Singapore? You both look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Let’s just say Singapore is getting to be a sore spot,” Alina said. “You said you had a name?”
Michael nodded.
“It took some digging, but I was able to trace the account back to someone in Washington, DC,” he said, lowering his voice. “That’s what I was doing when you came in. The account belongs to Senator Robert Carmichael.”
Alina frowned.
“Senator Carmichael?” she repeated. “You’re sure?”
“Why do you two keep asking if I’m sure?” Michael demanded, disgruntled. “This is what I do. It’s why you have me doing it!”
“I don’t think that was a name she was expecting either,” Damon explained, watching Alina’s face.
“How does Carmichael connect to Dominic?” she demanded, looking at them. “How do they even know each other?”
Michael shook his head.
“I have no–” he stopped abruptly, his eyes widening. “Of course!” he exclaimed suddenly. “That’s who it was!”
Alina and Damon stared at him.
“Care to clue us in?” Damon asked, amused.
Michael looked at Alina.
“The night before the bombs, remember?” he demanded. She shook her head blankly and he sighed. “I stopped here on my way to Brooklyn. I told you I’d met Dominic DiBarcoli at a fundraiser in DC.”
Alina nodded slowly.
“Yes,” she said. “You were there for your boss. I remember now. What of it?”
Michael shook his head and made an impatient noise.
“I couldn’t remember who introduced us. It was Robert Carmichael. Senator Carmichael introduced me to DiBarcoli.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Angela pulled the headset off her ear and looked around, stretching. Michael was in the recliner, his ear buds in his ears and his laptop open on his lap. A legal pad rested on the arm of the chair, covered in notes, arrows and numbers. Standing, she closed her laptop and glanced at her watch. The afternoon was half gone already, most of the day spent on conference calls. Angela sighed and walked over to the recliner.
“Hey!”
She poked Michael. He looked up and pulled one of the earbuds out of his ear.
“Yeah?”
“Any idea where Lina is?”
Michael looked around, then shrugged.
“Nope. I’ve been focused on work. Did you try upstairs?”
“Not yet. What do you think about dinner?”
He raised an eyebrow and glanced at his watch.
“It’s a little early for dinner.”
She sighed loudly.
“I don’t mean to eat now. I mean, what do you want for dinner?”
Michael shrugged and put his earbud back in.
“I have no preference. I’m ok with whatever everyone else wants.”
Angela rolled her eyes and turned away, heading down the hallway toward the front of the house.
“Mr. Personality,” she muttered under breath.
She got to the end of the hallway and glanced into the front room on her way past. Alina was seated at the desk in front of the window, engrossed in something on her laptop.
“There you are!” Angela exclaimed, stepping into the den. “I was just going to check upstairs for you.”
Alina looked up, raising an eyebrow.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing.” Angela wandered around the room restlessly. “I just need to stretch my legs and clear my head for a minute.”
Alina smoothly closed the laptop as Angela glanced over, and turned to face her.
“How’s the pain?” she asked.
Angela grimaced.
“I’m toughing it out. I’ve been on conference calls all day, so I didn’t want to be all loopy from Vicodin. I’ll take one later. Have you heard from Stephanie?”
“No.”
“She texted me a little while ago. Her white blood count shot up. They have her on an antibiotic now.”
Alina frowned.
“That’s no good.”
“No. She doesn’t seem concerned though. She just wants to get out of there.” Angela wandered over to the bookcase on the back wall and picked up a book absently. “Where did you go yesterday?”
Alina raised an eyebrow, an amused smile pulling at her lips.
“What makes you think I went anywhere?”
Angela looked at her in exasperation.
“I may have fainted, but I’m not an idiot. You left the church to go somewhere, and it wasn’t the hospital. What was so important that you ran away, leaving your two best friends bleeding and unconscious?”
As she spoke, Angela grew more agitated. Alina looked at her for a moment.
“I certainly wasn’t running away,” she said dryly.
“Then what were you doing? And don’t tell me you had something to take care of. I’m tired of hearing that from you.”
“You really don’t want to know, Angie.”
Angela’s face developed a decidedly mulish expression and she glared across the room at Alina.
“Yes I do!” She lifted her hand and pointed at her accusingly. “You’re hiding something. What is it? Was it Mr. Hunk O’ Mysterious? Is that where you were?”
Alina stared back at her, her face impassive.
“What good will it do if I tell you?” she finally asked. “What will change? How will it affect your life?”
“I won’t be pissed off anymore, for starters! And maybe I’ll have a better understanding of what the hell is going on around here.”
“You know what’s going on,” Alina said calmly. “Someone tried to attack you, and someone else opened fire at John’s funeral.”
“And Michael just happened to come visit at the same time, and now Damon shows up as well,” Angela retorted. “The last time everyone was here like this someone stole fifty-six million dollars from the banks and a North Korean terrorist got his brains blown out.”
“You know about Jin Moon?” Alina was surprised. “I didn’t think you watched the news.”
“Of course I watch the news. I’m not uneducated. I scan the headlines on Facebook every day! The point is that when everyone comes here together, bad things happen. And more and more, you seem to be in the middle of it all.”
“That’s an unfortunate coincidence.”
Angela snorted inelegantly.
“Coincidence, my ass. The other night you took off into the woods on your own witho
ut thinking twice. More importantly, Michael let you! I wasn’t happy about you not explaining, but I let it go.”
“Clearly not,” Alina interjected, amused again.
“But I am not letting yesterday go,” Angela continued, ignoring the interruption. “What was so important you didn’t wait to see if Steph and I were ok? We could have been dying for all you knew!”
“You weren’t dying,” Alina said, exasperated. “I checked you before I left. None of your wounds were life-threatening.”
“See? How do you know that?” Angela pounced. “How do you know about random injuries? Why do you have guns all over the place? Why do you have a security system to rival the White House? And where the hell did you go yesterday?!”
Alina studied her for a long moment, then sighed.
“I went after the shooter. I saw him leave the church, and I thought I could catch him.”
Angela stared at her, her mouth gaping.
“You...you thought...why...” she stammered. “Why would you do such a thing?!”
“It seemed like a good idea. No one else was going after him. Someone had to do something.”
“Someone...and that was you?! Are you insane? He had a gun!”
“So did I.”
“I don’t care if...wait, what?!” Angela looked as if her head was going to fly right off her shoulders. “You took a gun to a funeral?!”
“This sounds like a great conversation I’m missing,” Damon said from the doorway, his voice shaking.
Angela swung around to face him.
“Did you know about this?!” she demanded, her voice rising to an octave that made Alina wince inwardly.
“Know about what?” he asked innocently, leaning against the doorjamb and crossing his arms over his chest.
“About her carrying guns to funerals?”
Damon looked at Alina, laughter dancing in his blue eyes.
“Really? How Pulp Fiction of her,” he drawled.
Alina glared at him.
“Don’t encourage her.”
“You know what?!” Angela threw her hands up in the air. “I’m done. If you don’t want to tell me what the hell is going on, fine. Whatever. I’ll find out eventually. You know I will.”
Angela stalked past Damon and down the hallway toward the living room, muttering the whole way.
Damon watched her go and turned to look at Alina, a grin pulling at his lips.
“Will she?” he asked.
Alina sighed.
“Probably. Angie was never one to suffer secrets.”
“Is that going to be a problem?” he asked, the grin fading as he advanced into the room. “I came in and stopped you from giving her too much information for a reason.”
Alina looked up at him.
“How much did you hear?”
“Enough to know that you already told her too much.”
“As far as she’s concerned, it wasn’t enough,” she pointed out with a grin. “She’ll be sulking for the rest of the night.”
“Better that than yet another person knowing too much about you. Now, more than ever, you have to watch yourself. You know that. We can’t trust anyone; even people you’ve known your whole life.”
Alina stood up, meeting his gaze squarely.
“Are you trying to chastise me?” she demanded, amusement in her eyes. “Because I’m not feeling guilty, so you’re not trying hard enough.”
Damon shook his head.
“Laugh all you want, but too many people already know who you are, what you do, and where you are. Don’t add Angie to that list. It will only make it more dangerous for her.”
“It’s already dangerous for her,” Alina retorted. “Maybe even more so because she doesn’t know the truth. Regardless, I’m not telling her anything she hasn’t already figured out for herself. She knows I carry. She saw it the other night.”
“You didn’t have to tell her you went after Kyle!”
Alina grinned.
“True, but did you see her face? Totally worth it.”
Damon chuckled.
“Was it worth her sulking?” he asked, dropping the lecture for the time being.
“Maybe not,” Alina said, turning toward the door. “Luckily, I know how to make amends. How do you feel about Italian?”
Stephanie leaned her head back against the pillows and rubbed her eyes. Her mind was spinning, and her head hurt. On the surface, Trent Whitfield appeared to be a normal, average executive. He excelled in college, graduating with honors, and kept going up from there. Trasker hired him four years ago, luring him away from a competitor with a much larger salary and better weather. He settled down in Miami easily. He was dedicated to his job. His fellow executives liked him and played golf with him on the weekends. Trent Whitfield was unexceptional in every way, except one: he couldn’t seem to settle on a place to live.
Stephanie rolled her head to loosen her neck and opened her eyes to stare at the ceiling. In the past four years, he had moved four times. Each year he signed a one-year lease on a luxury condo, and at the end of each year, he failed to renew it.
Her curiosity piqued, Stephanie examined the four properties more closely. She was on the second development when she stumbled across the newspaper article about the missing woman. She had disappeared without a trace from the building. No sign of forced entry to her condo, or of a struggle. Her body showed up four months later in a dumpster about three blocks away.
One by one, Stephanie uncovered three other women, all reported missing from their buildings, and all showing up dead months later. The most recent victim had surfaced in an alley just three weeks ago. The police had no leads and no suspects in the murders, and the case was open and ongoing. So far there was nothing to link any of the women together.
Except Trent Whitfield. All four women disappeared from their building while he was living there.
Stephanie shook her head and reached for her cell phone. It could be nothing, but there was only one way to be sure. She scrolled through her contacts until she found the name she was looking for, and dialed.
“Special Agent Thomas,” a tired voice answered.
“Hi Lenny, it’s Stephanie Walker. How are things in sunny Florida?”
“Raining right now,” Lenny said cheerfully. “How’s my favorite Yank doing?”
“I’ve seen better days. I’m laid up in the hospital right now.”
“That doesn’t sound good. What happened?”
“I got shot in the leg.”
“Wait...I heard something about a shooting,” Lenny said slowly. “What was it? I heard it on my way in this morning...”
“John’s funeral,” Stephanie supplied helpfully.
“Oh good God, that’s right!” he exclaimed. “I’m so sorry!”
“Thanks. Not quite the send-off we were hoping for.”
“And you were hit? Are you ok?”
“I’ll be fine. They’re keeping me to monitor an infection. Hey, I was calling to see if you could help me out with something.”
“Sure. What do you need? I still owe you for that thing last year.”
“There’s an ongoing MPD investigation down there. I think it might tie into something unofficial I’m working on up here,” Stephanie told him. “Do you know anyone over there?”
“Hmm...not that I’m on speaking terms with,” he said thoughtfully. “What’s the case?”
“Four women have disappeared in the past four years. Their bodies show up a few months later.”
“Well, it’s not ringing any bells, but that doesn’t mean anything. You think it might tie into something up there?”
“Maybe. I’m just following a hunch.”
“Well, send me the deets and I’ll see what I can dig up,” Lenny decided. “You said it’s unofficial?”
“Yes. It’s something I’m looking into for a friend,” Stephanie said. “I’m emailing you what I have now. They all went missing from their condo buildings, and the same tenant was present e
ach time. It’s probably nothing, but I’d like to make sure.”
“Sure thing.”
“Hey Lenny, how soon can you work on this?” Stephanie asked, clicking send on the email. “It’s time sensitive.”
“You caught me at a good time, Steph,” he told her. “I just wrapped up a case yesterday, so I’ve got a little extra time. I’ll see what I can find out and let you know in the next day or two.”
“I really appreciate that,” she said earnestly. “Give me a call as soon as you have something.”
“Will do. And Steph? I really am sorry about John. I know it must be hard right now.”
“Thanks, Lenny.”
Stephanie disconnected and rested her head back against the pillows with a tired sigh. The empty feeling inside, that had been weighing on her like a rock since John died, suddenly seemed more pronounced. Not only had his funeral been ruined by someone shooting up the church, but now she was stuck in the hospital, helpless and alone. Lenny said it must be hard, but he had no idea. Everyone thought John had died in a freak accident. They didn’t know the truth.
Stephanie reached out and closed her laptop, lifting it up and sliding it onto the table next to her bed. She picked up the remote to the TV and turned it off, then laid back and closed her eyes. There was nothing more she could do right now, and she was suddenly very tired and very discouraged. If nothing else, a nap would help alleviate the almost overwhelming feeling of emptiness, at least while she was asleep.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Michael stretched and stood up, setting his laptop on the coffee table. He plugged in the charger and turned to head into the kitchen for a bottle of water. Angela was still ensconced at the dining room table, a can of Pepsi at her elbow and her laptop open before her. She looked up as he passed by.
“Where is everyone?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said, reaching for her soda. “Alina said she was going to pick up dinner, and I have no idea where Damon disappeared to.”
“Dinner?” Michael paused, looking interested. “Do we know what she’s getting?”
