Entangled

by Carmen Green

  “This looks right,” she said, then picked up one of the black notebooks on the cart. “I asked Alex and Danielle if they could track Marc’s travels on their end and I created a travel calendar.”

  He took the calendar and compared it to his information. It was an exact match. His gut twisted in a knot. Chris looked at her. Hard. “How did you get this information?”

  She looked at the calendar and then back at him and frowned. “I just told you. I got information from the other wives and added it together with my information.”

  The look she gave him said she was confused by his question. He was damn confused as to how she’d found information that had been difficult for him to find.

  He folded his arms across his chest. “Not all of those flights were booked under Marc’s name,” he said softly. He’d found the information in some of Marc’s possessions from the crash, but most of the information came from sources available to law enforcement and government officials. Renee was neither.

  “Yes, I know. I found out that Marc had several credit cards he used under different names and addresses.”

  She passed along the information as if she were telling him Marc’s favorite color, not like she’d just revealed that her husband had committed yet another crime.

  “And you learned this how?”

  “Oh, easy. Marc didn’t know there was monitoring software on our computer network at home. The software recorded everything he did. Once I had credit card numbers, it was easy to find out the rest. You just need access to the right database.”

  Chris leaned back in the chair. Playing with computers. Accessing the right database, my ass. He didn’t know who she thought she was fooling, but it wasn’t him. He’d have to dig deeper into Renee’s background. The computers in this office combined with her ability to get that kind of information on Marc said loud and clear that Renee was more than a librarian. He made a mental note to contact a librarian at the FBI Library in Quantico to find out if Renee’s story was feasible. “Which credit cards did you find?”

  “I found three so far,” she said, flipping through the notebook. “But I’ve only searched the last four months, so there may be more.”

  There were more, but he wasn’t going to share that with her just yet. She seemed to get more than enough information on her own. “What was the date that Marc took the necklace from the bank?”

  “It was March 28.”

  “During that time, Marc had been to at least fifteen different cities. We need to contact jewelers in the area and see if anyone has seen the necklace.”

  “I can get a list of all of the jewelers in those cities,” Renee said.

  “That’s good, but it would help to see anything Marc left at your old home. Did he leave any papers, notes or clothing? Did he make calls?”

  “I don’t know about phone calls. He didn’t leave much. I put all of his things in boxes after he died. I brought them from the garage this morning,” she said and pointed to the far corner of the room. “They’re over there.”

  Chris looked at the two large cardboard boxes. It looked as if Marc traveled light like him. It was a lesson they’d had to learn as boys and neither of them had gotten out of the habit. Chris stood and walked to the corner where the boxes sat. A label with Marc’s Clothing was neatly printed on top. He assumed it was Renee’s writing because Marc’s handwriting was sloppy and barely legible.

  He took out his pocketknife and quickly cut the heavy-duty brown tape. The knife was within legal length limits in most states, but it was razor sharp at all times. This knife had saved his butt a few times in the past so he made sure it was always sharp. He slid the blade back into place and opened the box.

  A crisp, white dress shirt lay on top. Chris felt nothing but sadness that this was as close as he would come to his brother ever again. He didn’t know why it bothered him. They hadn’t been close since they were boys. As adults, they couldn’t have been more different. He lived his life with justice and honor. Marc broke the law when it suited him. It didn’t matter to him who he hurt.

  Chris pushed those thoughts aside. What mattered was the job and he would do it properly. He picked up the shirt and checked the pocket. It was empty. Unperturbed, he checked the seams along the bottom, then the cuffs of each sleeve.

  “What are you doing?” Renee asked and came to his side.

  “Checking to see if Marc had anything sewn into the seams of his shirt,” he said as he guided his fingers along a side seam.

  “People do that?” she said, picking up one of the sleeves.

  Chris smiled at her amazed tone. “Yes.”

  “That’s good to know,” she said.

  What the hell? Chris turned and looked at her. A frown wrinkled her brow as she fingered the seams of the sleeve with the focus of a sniper with a target in sight. He couldn’t just let her comment pass. “Why is that good to know?”

  “I have a friend who designs computer games and he’s always looking for new twists to add to the games.”

  “I see,” he said and moved to put the shirt to the side, but Renee had a sleeve. He let go of the shirt when he realized that she wasn’t going to let it go.

  “What kind of things do you find in clothes?”

  “Jewelry, drugs, money,” he said and picked up a jacket. “Anything.”

  “You don’t think he put the necklace in his clothing, do you?”

  “I don’t know. If he didn’t, maybe he hid something that could point us to what he did do with the necklace.”

  Renee shook her head. “I just don’t see Marc being the kind of guy to sew something in his clothes. He couldn’t even sew on a button.”

  Chris raised his brow. “Marc knew how to sew.”

  “What do you mean? He took his clothes to the tailor if a button fell off.”

  “I mean we both had to learn to sew a seam and repair our clothes. We didn’t have enough money growing up to throw away anything.”

  “So he lied about that, too.”

  “Yes, he did.” Chris wished he’d kept his mouth closed. He could see that this information hurt her. It was just one more mess Marc made that he’d have to clean up. Chris moved his hand along the hem of the jacket and felt something hard. The kick of satisfaction had him reaching for his knife again.

  CHAPTER 4

  Chris wasn’t surprised to see the gold credit card and Florida driver’s license in Marc’s jacket. He’d bet that Marc’s other identification and credit cards were sewn into clothing and hanging in the closets of houses in Florida and Georgia. His older brother had learned to be careful. He would have had to be or else he would have made a mistake with one of the wives. Marc’s life had been a balancing act and he’d been a very good juggler.

  Chris put the cards down on the table. He reached for another jacket from the box and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Renee pick up the license. She hadn’t believed that he’d find anything in Marc’s clothing if her shocked expression was any indication. He felt sorry for her and the other wives. Marc had snowed all of them. Chris slid his fingers along the shoulder of the jacket. The sleek silk-blend fabric felt cool and smooth to the touch. No lumps or budges disrupted the tailored lines. The best thing he could do for all of them would be to settle Marc’s estate and let them get on with their lives. But first, he had to figure out what happened to the necklace. He also had to figure out Renee. He shifted his position so that he could watch her without being obvious.

  She studied the license as if it were a treasure map with the location of the necklace printed on it. She bit her bottom lip, which looked plump and lush like a ripe plum. He wondered if she tasted just as sweet.

  Chris tightened his jaw and took his gaze from the tempting sight. Focus on the damn job, he told himself. He finished searching the jacket and laid it on top of the growing pile of clothing that had been searched.

  “Did you have a flight to Florida listed at all?” she asked.

  He picked up a shirt. “I don’
t think so. Why?”

  She turned the license toward him. “This was issued in March—a month before he died. How did he get to Florida?”

  He scanned the card and found the issue date. “He could have driven or taken the bus.”

  She shook her head. “Taking the bus doesn’t sound like Marc. He always booked first-class or business-class tickets for the plane. There’s not an equivalent for the bus.”

  “Hmm.” He didn’t tell her that he’d learned Marc has taken the bus one-way from Charleston to Savannah. From Savannah, he’d taken a commercial flight to Birmingham. He’d tracked down that information from a credit card that none of the wives knew he had.

  “I’d better make a note to check his card records for gas charges.” She walked to the cart with her laptop and began typing.

  Chris continued his search of Marc’s clothing. If she was lucky, she might find the information, but Marc could have used cash. She probably wouldn’t find anything because cash rarely left a trail. He continued to search through Marc’s clothing until the box was empty. He glanced over his shoulder at Renee. She’d pulled one of the black mesh office chairs over the to cart and her fingers moved quickly across the keys of the laptop.

  He got his knife and cut open the next box. With her distracted, he could search without interruption.

  This box was smaller than the other. He pulled out packing paper and reached for the brown leather organizer and flipped it over. Marc’s name was printed on a small brass plate on the front. Why did Marc have a BlackBerry and this? Chris opened the organizer and began looking through the calendar. Marc’s handwriting was just as sloppy as he remembered. Every day in January Marc had written at least one notation. Some entries were easy to recognize, like meetings and presentations, but others weren’t. He turned the page to the next month and the next until he came to the month that Marc died. The entry made no sense to him. GMALNL-ALNYER. He’d have to look through Marc’s files later to check if he’d listed anyone with the last name of Nyer. He put the planner on the desk next to the credit card and license. He would take it with him to the hotel tonight where he could access more information on his computer.

  Chris looked at the computer equipment scattered around the room. He wasn’t sure whether he could trust her network. Until he learned the exact extent of her computer’s abilities to spy on his activities, he would search through all of Marc’s things here then use the secure terminal from his hotel room to try to access the files on the external hard drive recovered from Marc’s plane.

  He went through the rest of the items in the box, looking for anything useful, but came up empty-handed. “Is this everything?” he asked, folding the lid of the box closed.

  “That’s all that was left,” she replied.

  “Left.” Chris turned and grew silent. She’d put on a pair of black-rimmed Catwoman glasses and the staccato sound of her fingers hitting the keyboard drowned out the steady hum of computers. She should have looked ridiculous, but instead she looked bookish and sexy as she stared at the computer monitor. She was the last woman he should feel attracted to, but he couldn’t deny the gut-level desire he felt. He’d had enough of Marc’s hand-me-downs in his life. There was no way in hell he was going play second string to Marc’s widow. He’d do what he’d done all through childhood and ignore what he couldn’t have. “What do you mean?”

  She looked up from the monitor and frowned. “Well.” She pushed the glasses onto the bridge of her nose. “Marc had other things, but he must have taken them with him on his last trip.”

  “What things?”

  “His briefcase, BlackBerry, the external hard drive I gave him for his birthday.”

  “You gave him an external hard drive as a birthday present?”

  “Yes. He was always losing his jump drives. I figured he’d have a hard time losing a hard drive.”

  He’d never heard of a woman giving her husband a hard drive as a birthday present. What kind of relationship did they have? No. Their relationship didn’t matter. What mattered was finding that necklace. Chris walked to the desk where she’d placed his briefcase and pulled out a notepad and a pen. He made a list of the missing items. The briefcase, the BlackBerry and an external hard drive were found in the wreckage. “Did he have more than one?”

  “No. It was bigger than the hard drive on his laptop and he used it for backup. Once I showed him how to use it.”

  Chris put the notepad down. He didn’t see the need to tell her about the other external hard drive that was found in Marc’s plane. There was no telling how many more of Marc’s secrets were waiting to explode like land mines in an abandoned field.

  “I’ll find out if there are any charges on the credit card and check out the driver’s license. In the meantime, I need to check to see if the information you have fills in the gaps in my timeline of Marc’s whereabouts.” He didn’t think he’d find new information, but he had to check.

  “What can I do to help?”

  “You can go through Marc’s bank records and credit cards. Make a list of any jewelry stores he used in the last six months and make a list of names or businesses you don’t recognize.”

  “Why the ones I don’t recognize?”

  “He would have had to deal with people or companies that you wouldn’t be involved in. He wouldn’t risk you finding out about the necklace.”

  She gave him a brisk nod and began typing.

  He raised his eyebrows. She was actually going to do what he asked? Not wanting to give her any reason to change her mind, Chris walked to the desk and opened the briefcase. He removed his laptop and turned it on. The timeline he’d created for Marc was riddled with gaps. His brother seemed to like to disappear for a few days and so far Chris had not been able to fill them.

  It didn’t take him long to go through the information she’d found. Just as he’d suspected, he didn’t find anything new. Chris turned and looked at her.

  Half a cookie sat on a plate beside her mouse pad. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the computer screen. She looked totally engrossed in her work.

  “Did you find anything?” she asked without ever looking away from the screen.

  Not so engrossed after all. “No. Did you?”

  “I found two jewelry stores and three names I don’t recognize.”

  “Are the stores local?

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I’ll head over later. I know you contacted the jewelry stores in the area to see if any of them had the necklace, but Marc might have spoken with someone about it.”

  She stopped typing and gave him a hard look. “We’ll go there later.”

  He leaned back in the chair. “We’ll head to the stores later. Are you looking at bank statements or credit card bills?”

  Her expression brightened and she picked up the cookie. “Bank statements.” She took a bite.

  He felt a zing of desire spread throughout his body. What was it about her that attracted him so much? There were more beautiful women in the world. He should know because he’d dated a few of them. None of them had made him feel this visceral desire. His gaze focused on her lips, lush and tempting.

  Chris jerked back to face his laptop. He was going to have to get himself under control. She was off-limits to him and he knew how to walk away from things he wanted. He’d had a lifetime of experience.

  “I’ll go through the credit cards.” His voice was rough. He took a sip of the sweet tea.

  “I’ve got some of his credit card information here.” She wrinkled her nose. “I haven’t looked at the statements. I can e-mail you the files.”

  There wasn’t a chance in hell that he was going to get on her Internet connection. He reached inside his briefcase and removed his jump drive. “Just put it on this.”

  He rolled his chair the short distance to her desk and gave her the device. He ignored the slow burn of desire when their hands touched. He rolled his chair back to his desk.

  He went to work on the credit card state
ments he’d retrieved a week ago. Marc hadn’t denied himself any luxury. He’d purchased several Hugo Boss suits, two Rolex watches and ordered three pairs of handmade Italian shoes. His spending habits were in sharp contrast to Renee’s. She bought books and a lot of them.

  He turned to her. “Did you buy books for Marc?”

  She looked up. “Yes, but he wasn’t much of a book reader. He liked magazines and newspapers.”

  “There weren’t any books in the boxes.”

  “No, they are in the library.”

  “You gave the books to the library?”

  “No, the library in the house.”

  “I need to see the books.”

  “Okay, hold on a second.” She made a few keystrokes before standing. “It’s right across the hall.”

  He followed her out of the room and across the hall to a set of pocket doors. She pulled a latch and pushed the doors open. Each of the walls housed floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with books. A wrought-iron rolling ladder rested in the far right corner of the room. An iron railing system connected the bookcases together. He hadn’t seen this many books outside of the library.

  “Did you buy all of these books?”

  “No. Aunt Gert gave me some of them, but I bought most of them.” She went to one of the bookcases to his left and kneeled on the hardwood floor.

  As he walked farther into the room, he noticed the bookcases were built into the wall and gave an illusion of wall-to-wall bookcases. There were two large windows that let in the morning sunlight, which brought out the brownish tint to Renee’s hair. She began stacking books on the floor in a neat pile.

  Chris bent down. “Are these all of them?” he asked.

  “Oh, no. Those are just the business books. The fiction section is over there.” She pointed the opposite wall.

  “You group your books?”

  She looked at him over the top of her glasses. Her expression said, I know you didn’t just ask that stupid question. He bit back a smile. She reminded him of an insulted, slightly nerdy Tinkerbell.

  “Yes. I group my books. It’s called cataloging. It’s what librarians do.”