He wasn’t good with women. He had his reasons. Not just an ex-wife who hadn’t given a shit about him.
He forced himself to finish reaching for his sandwich and to move away from her warmth. He took another swig of coffee hoping to dislodge the rock stuck halfway down his gullet. Finally, he spoke. “You asked me earlier why I joined the FBI.”
He thought at first she wasn’t going to say anything. That maybe she knew it would be terrible and didn’t want to know.
“Why?” she asked. Because, of course, she did. Charlotte did not run away from the tough questions.
“I need to fight the bad guys. I need to protect people who aren’t strong enough to protect themselves.”
The silence in the cab gained a life of its own until it vibrated like a tine on a tuning fork.
She finally broke the tension. “Who in your life wasn’t strong enough to defend themselves?”
Her voice was soft. She was really good at listening, which was a shame, because he was really fucking awful at talking. Did he tell her the truth or hide behind a lie? But if there was one person he didn’t want to lie to, right now, it was her.
“Me. I’m the one who wasn’t strong enough to protect themselves. Not until I started to grow and push back. Not until I became more of a Neanderthal.” He growled the last word.
He didn’t want to open a vein and bleed all over her so he put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot. Bumping back onto the main road. He stuffed his mouth full with another bite of the baguette that he was too emotionally constipated to say thank you for. Somehow he knew it wouldn’t matter to Charlotte. That she’d understand. And he hated that. He chewed, the bread like sawdust in his mouth. Then he took another bite.
His trauma had been a long time ago, but the psychological harm was still a factor in how he lived his life. He hated that. Hated that his bitch of a mother still had a destructive impact, all these years later.
But he didn’t want to talk about his childhood and was grateful Charlotte didn’t seem to want to either. The hum of the pavement beneath the tires was the only sound he heard all the way back to the ranch.
* * *
TJ packed his father’s rucksack and distributed gold and money evenly between them to help disperse the weight and in case one of the packs was lost. He added the passports, birth certificates, his parents’ wedding certificate, his mother’s death certificate.
He ran the tip of his index finger over the passport photograph of his mom. The family had driven to Alaska once because his dad had wanted to visit his parents. They’d died the next year, and TJ didn’t really remember them.
Considering their current notoriety, TJ doubted passports would be much use, but he did as his father asked and packed them carefully in a plastic envelope.
He was glad his mom wasn’t still suffering but wished they could go back in time, wished that they’d taken her to the hospital despite her objections. That he could have one more day with her walking through the forest, maybe introduce her to Kayla—assuming Kayla was still alive.
He clenched his jaw. He didn’t even have a photograph of Kayla, although she’d taken some of him with her phone.
He’d find her. His father had connections.
They’d get out of here together and figure it out. No one else needed to get hurt.
Once he’d finished packing, he began pacing the apartment.
Being idle drove him crazy, so he pulled out all the flashlights and spare batteries, assembled all the matches and candles in their quarters and put them on the kitchen table, ready for action.
It was water that would provide the biggest obstacle. Their home was fed via a natural spring, but if the authorities diverted it or somehow contaminated it, they’d struggle. He knew the others had filled a massive plastic tank they had in case of nuclear war, but it wouldn’t last forever. At some point people would surrender or die.
TJ filled several large vessels from the tap. Set full buckets near the toilets. After ten minutes, pans and jugs filled every surface in the kitchen, full of pure, life-saving water.
Then he surveyed and stacked the dry goods and went through the freezers. Although they ate lunch with everyone else in the cafeteria, they usually cooked dinner for themselves here in their quarters. TJ threw a deer stew in the oven and then lay on the couch, already tired of waiting.
He did not want anyone suffering on his account. But the authorities were also after the people who’d shot at them, so even if he gave himself up, it wouldn’t be the end of this nightmare. Thankfully, no one had died in the exchange of gunfire so the punishment shouldn’t be too harsh if they gave themselves up. They might even be acquitted.
And, assuming the world didn’t come to an end, the men would be back with their families in a couple years.
Whoever killed Brenna Longie though, they’d serve a lot longer and would deserve every second. Surely the cops would require proof rather than the say-so of one guy who’d simply seen him checking a prone woman’s pulse and jumped to a million conclusions? Maybe if there were other suspects the Feds wouldn’t be so focused on him?
He sat up suddenly.
Why had Malcolm been skulking in the dark corridor? There was no way he could have predicted TJ was about to leave, which meant he’d heard him approaching and hid in the dark. But why had he been there in the first place?
Malcolm knew about the secret tunnel. Obviously. His father had suggested Malcolm had been sneaking outside too. Where had he been going? What had he been doing?
Had he killed Brenna? Had he thought Brenna was Kayla and killed her because Malcolm knew Kayla was TJ’s girlfriend?
He needed to find out. One way would be to watch the surveillance tapes, but it would be impossible to do that without alerting Malcolm or one of his cronies. The other option would be to search Malcolm’s room…
TJ checked the time and climbed off the couch. Most of the people who lived here ate dinner around five, and Malcolm rarely skipped a meal. TJ’s fingers curled around the spare keys to the apartment that had also been in the safe. Time to see what the hell was going on.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Charlotte needed time alone to think, but she wasn’t likely to get it any time soon judging from the fact as they pulled up to the ranch, McKenzie stood waiting for them on the porch looking like a bad omen. It made her feel raw and put upon that the only solitude she’d had recently was when she went to the bathroom, and she didn’t even get a lot of that right now.
She wanted to mull over what Novak had said to her. All of it. That he found her attractive but dismissed it as irrelevant. It was not irrelevant. Not even a little bit.
That he’d needed protection from someone in his life when he’d been smaller and more vulnerable. How small? How vulnerable? Why had he needed protection? From whom? What had happened? Why had no one stepped in?
Had she been insensitive, treated him poorly? Maybe she had in the beginning, but he’d earned it.
Hadn’t he?
Or had she completely misread those smirks he used to send her? Seen condescension where instead there had been only disguised male interest?
McKenzie looked impatient as they hit the bottom step.
“Kayla’s fever broke. She just woke up.”
Charlotte snapped her attention away from her personal issues and back onto her job where it needed to stay. People were counting on her. Most of them didn’t even know it.
“Has she spoken to anyone?”
McKenzie shook his head. “Nurse was helping her bathe and then getting her to eat some soup. I want you to talk to her.”
“Did we find out anything about the family yet?”
McKenzie tilted his head. “I’ll brief you after you talk to her, but we don’t know much.”
“Going in blind,” she said. “Got it.”
“What about me?” Novak asked.
Charlotte knew he was itching to get rid of her and get back to his men. He’d
opened himself up, and he’d retreat from that level of vulnerability. Even “evolved” guys did not like to reveal their weak spots, and she wasn’t sure she’d classify Novak as evolved.
And she still wasn’t being fair.
“Both of you. Together. When I said seventy-two hours, I meant it.” McKenzie led the way inside the ranch house. “Did Bob Jones have anything new to add?”
They trailed into the kitchen after him. A massive vat of chili bubbled on the stove, the aroma filling the steamy air.
“The cougar sighting was reported by the man who approached him in the parking lot below the hiking trail.”
“So you said on the phone. Did he get a name or any useful details?”
She shook her head. “No. But we took DNA swabs off the side window of his work vehicle.” She pulled the samples out of her pocket and handed them over. “He told us the guy tapped on the window and then drove off in a silver sedan. Might be worthless, but you never know.”
“Good work.”
She rolled her shoulders. “Do we tell Kayla about Brenna?”
McKenzie pressed his lips together, clearly deciding. “Question her first. Tell her Brenna is dead after you think she’s told you everything she knows and check her reaction.”
Great. A tactical death notice. The thought made the chicken sandwich she’d eaten earlier churn in her stomach.
She nodded and trailed over to the stairs, aware of Novak in her shadow, but not wanting to talk to him when she needed to concentrate on how to approach Kayla. He stayed silent, and she was grateful he was giving her space. He caught her arm when they reached the hallway outside their room.
“I can wait outside the door if you’d prefer.”
“McKenzie said both of us.” Charlotte stared into his chest.
“Fuck McKenzie,” he muttered vehemently.
Charlotte laughed. “Do you really want to test his resolve when we only have twenty-seven hours to go?”
“I don’t think Kayla is gonna feel comfortable with me in the room.”
“Just don’t scowl at her.” Charlotte raised her eyes to meet his doubtful gaze. She smiled up at him then, wishing she hadn’t started to like him quite so much. It had been easier, before, when all she’d seen was the operator, not the man. “And maybe sit close to the door. And don’t react to anything she says.”
“Got it.”
Charlotte carried on walking and nodded to the agent guarding the door. “Take a break and grab some food. One of us will find you when we’re done.”
She tapped on the door and a nurse opened up. The woman was young, short, and built like a tank. “Kayla managed to eat some soup and walk to the bathroom and back. I think she’s feeling a lot better, but she’s going to tire easily. I’ll come back in the morning for a final check, but now it’s a case of staying hydrated, eating well and getting lots of rest and taking her pills.”
The nurse grabbed her coat. “I need to get home. Bye, Kayla. See you tomorrow.”
Charlotte blinked at the assertive energy the nurse took with her—impressive in a den of FBI agents.
Kayla’s eyes darted nervously between Charlotte and Novak. As Charlotte approached the bed, Kayla sat up and drew her knees toward her chest, dragging the covers over her as if she were cold, even though the room was warm.
“Hi, Kayla. My name is Charlotte Blood, and this here is Payne Novak. We’re with the FBI.”
“I don’t understand.” Kayla’s voice was scratchy and thin. “Why am I here? Where’s Brenna?” Her fingers gripped the bedcovers tightly.
“You were sick. We brought you back here to recover.”
Kayla’s eyes went a little wild. “I don’t understand why the FBI would do that?”
Charlotte drew a hardback chair to the side of the bed. She heard the creak of wood as Novak settled into a similar seat near the door. “Mainly because you were very sick, and we really wanted to talk to you.”
Kayla swallowed. She looked unsure but was listening.
“Can you tell us the last thing you remember before you got ill? Did you go away for Thanksgiving?”
“We’d planned to for a few days. Maybe visit Monument Valley or somewhere. Then I got sick so we didn’t go anywhere.”
“Uh huh.”
Kayla relaxed a little and leaned back against the pillows next to the headboard. “Brenna wanted to pack up and head farther south before the snow came, but I wasn’t ready to leave yet. But I didn’t mind going for a few days.”
Kayla reached for her water, and Charlotte passed it to her.
“Where’s Brenna? Is she okay?”
Negotiators generally only lied when the next step was a tactical solution. “I have some questions I need to ask you. Do you feel comfortable talking to me?”
“Why? What about?” Kayla shrugged her shoulders and laughed nervously. “Sure. Unless you’re planning to arrest me.”
“I’m not planning to arrest you.” Didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen if Charlotte found evidence of a crime, but she didn’t think Kayla was a serious suspect in this case. No one could fake that kind of fever. “Are you two related? I mean you have different last names, but you look so alike.”
Kayla’s bottom lip wobbled. “People always think we’re sisters. I guess that’s kind of what drew us together at school.”
“This was back in Pennsylvania, right? How come the two of you ended up in a tent on a mountain in Washington State?”
“We both love animals and nature. We realized that the only real way to fight for conservation was on the ground. We heard about the protesters here and decided to join them.”
Charlotte tilted her head to one side and flashed her brows in a universal facial expression that built rapport. “Not many people have the determination to live their principles that way.”
“Complacency isn’t enough anymore. If we don’t protect the planet, millions of people are going to die or be displaced. Billions of animals have already died. Wars will be fought over water. Rather than figuring out alternative fuels or investing in desalination facilities or finding ways to scrub carbon dioxide from the atmosphere, corporations are chasing profit. It’s business as usual for the rich, while the world burns.”
“It takes a special person to stand up to the machine.”
Kayla eyed her sideways. “Well, if the FBI has a database of environmentalists then that makes you part of the machine.”
“We only keep databases on criminals. Being an activist is not illegal as long as people follow the law.”
Kayla let out a long sigh. “Which is okay in principle, except when the corporations don’t follow the rules, they get some measly fine or a slap on the hand. It’s like there’re different rules depending on who you are, or who your daddy is.”
“The FBI is a big supporter of the law being applied equally to everyone. No one should be above the law.” Charlotte sighed too. “I know that’s not always how it appears.” The justice system was a complicated beast and subject to political corruption and manipulation. “How do you support yourself?”
Kayla rubbed at her forehead as if she were tired. Charlotte hated this part of her job. But while she might not consider Kayla a serious suspect, it was possible that she had been involved with murdering her best friend, or conspired with someone else, to do the deed. No one could be eliminated until they figured out the truth.
“I had some money put aside, and Brenna sells her photographs on the web. That’s why she wanted to move on. New places, new images. Also, she hates the cold.”
That was the second time someone had mentioned Brenna liked taking photographs. Where was the camera? Charlotte made a mental note to ask if it was one of the items recovered from the tent or car. She hadn’t seen it, but it didn’t mean that it wasn’t there.
“She’s a good photographer?”
Kayla nodded fervently.
“So what about you? What do you like to do when you’re not actively protesting and trying to save
the world?”
Kayla gave her a quizzical smile. “Why do you want to know?”
She looked so small and alone in the big bed and seemed to have no idea about what she’d lost. Charlotte wanted to reach out and give the girl a hug.
“I remember when I was eighteen,” she said instead. “I spent a lot of time either working or meeting friends or going to the movies with boyfriends, but there’s not a lot of those things in this remote part of Washington State.”
Something flashed in Kayla’s eyes. “I like to draw. I write and read a lot of books. I have a boyfriend.” She looked away, and her fingers played with a loose cotton thread she’d found on the duvet cover.
“TJ?”
Kayla’s head whipped around. “How do you know about him?”
“You said his name to SSA Novak when he carried you out of your tent and brought you here for treatment.”
Kayla’s eyes shifted to Novak over Charlotte’s shoulder. “I didn’t remember how I got here. Thanks for helping me.”
Charlotte glanced at Novak. He nodded to Kayla and gave Charlotte a small closed-lip smile. No more resting grumpy face.
Charlotte waited patiently, employing silence as a tool.
“TJ is my boyfriend, but it’s complicated.”
Charlotte laughed. “Isn’t it always.” She felt Novak’s eyes burning holes in her back.
Kayla reached for her water again, and Charlotte helped her.
“How did you two meet?”
“There are a breeding pair of Northern Spotted Owls up in the forest near where he lives. Brenna took a bunch of photographs to sell, but I liked to sit and sketch them, which took longer. One day I saw another person watching them too.”
“You weren’t scared? Alone in the woods with a strange man nearby?”
Kayla gave her a look. “Of course, I was nervous. But he didn’t approach me that first day. Nor the second. He gave me a nod of acknowledgement but kept his distance. Eventually I was curious enough to walk over to where he sat and strike up a conversation.”
Kayla’s fingers continued to play in a restless motion with the bedspread. “He offered to show me some of his favorite spots in the mountains, and we started going for hikes. Then he said he couldn’t get away every day so we made a date to meet up once a week.”
Cold Wicked Lies: A gripping romantic thriller that will have you hooked (Cold Justice - Crossfire Book 3) Page 20
