Betrayed (12 page)

“But you say he was emailing you, and he trusted you enough to give you valuable information.”

She lifted one shoulder. “I can't explain that. All he was to me was a nice man who showed me the ropes at S&D. Then he kept up an email correspondence with me.” She dragged in a breath and let it out. “He and I had a lot in common at work.”

“Right.” He shook his head. “And then it just happened that your brother needed your help to recover what Blake had stolen.”

She turned her hand palm up. “I can't explain that, either.”

He snorted, then ordered himself not to jump to conclusions about her. There was no reason why she had to come to him. She could be on her way out of town by now. And she'd certainly been in trouble when she'd come to his apartment—and later when he'd gotten her out of that car.

To get her reaction, he said, “Of course, Kinkead knows you were in the building and that the cameras in the IT section were off.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “
Madre
de
Dios
.”

“I assumed you turned the cameras off. How did you manage that?”

She clenched her teeth, then deliberately relaxed her jaw before answering. “My brother gave me this thing to use.”

“What?”

“Something that looked a little like a smartphone. It had a numeric pad. I guess he got it from the men who wanted me to search Arnold's office,” she said, jumping ahead to anticipate his next question.

“And where is this thing now?” he asked, punching out the words.

“I stuck it in the bottom of the trash can in the ladies' room.”

“Jesus!”

“What?” she asked in alarm.

“You think they're not going to find it?”

“They might have found it on me. They looked inside my purse before they let me leave the building.”

“How did you get the cell phone out?”

She flushed. “I stuck it in my bra. And with that other thing, there's no proof I was the one who brought it into the building.”

“Fingerprints,” he muttered.

“I had on rubber gloves.”

“Oh, did you?”

“My brother gave them to me.”

“You were seen coming out of the bathroom. That's when the camera started working again. They'll check to see what's in the trash now. And they'll know the night cleaning crew emptied it shortly before you went in there.”

“I wasn't thinking about that.”

“Or a lot of other things, apparently.”

She looked like she was working hard not to cry, and he told himself to ease up on her. At least for now.

“Where did you leave your car?”

“On the street outside your building.”

“How do you suppose those four men knew where you'd gone?”

“I guess they could have followed me to make sure I went to S&D.”

“Or they could have had a tracking device on your car. This looks like a high-tech operation. They supplied you with something to turn off the cameras. And they had an opener for the apartment's garage door.”

Before he could say anything else, Shane's cell phone rang. He looked at the number, then at Elena, then back at the phone and sighed.

“It's Kinkead.”

She grabbed his arm. “Don't answer it.”

“I have to. When he found out you were there after hours and there was something funny with the cameras, he called me to come in. He has to be wondering why I'm not there trying to figure out what happened. Don't say anything,” he ordered, then pressed the screen.

The voice on the other end of the line was angry. “Shane, where the hell are you?”

“Something's come up.”

“What?”

“Elena came to my apartment after we spoke.”

Beside him, she drew in a startled breath.

“And you're bringing her here?” Kinkead asked.

His answer was immediate. “Actually, I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Listen here, Gallagher, I make those kinds of decisions, not you.”

“There were gunmen at my apartment a few minutes behind her. The police are probably there now. And the fire department, since I started a fire in a trash can to make a smoke screen.”

“Jesus.”

“And if you want, you can go over and see the bullet holes in the walls and my front door. And the mess in the garage.”

“What mess?”

“I had to shoot our way out.”

He heard Kinkead's shocked exclamation on the other end of the line. But the man's words were calm. “Come in. This isn't something you can handle alone.”

“I'd do it if I were alone, but I don't think it's safe to bring her there,” Shane said.

“We can protect her.”

“I'm not betting her life on that.”

“Gallagher…”

Shane clicked off, then pulled to the side of the road. Getting out on the shoulder, he dropped the phone onto the gravel and ground it under his heel. Then he got back into the car.

Elena was staring at him.

“Why did you do that?”

“Because we can be traced through the GPS in my phone. Yours, too.” He held out his hand.

“But we won't be able to call anyone.”

“Inconvenient.” He kept his hand out.

She dug into her purse and pulled out a phone, which he subjected to the same treatment as his own.

Then he drove away, wondering if he was making the wrong move.

He switched on WTOP all-news radio and waited through an announcement of sports scores.

The next item was what he was thinking he would hear. “A shoot-out at a Rockville apartment complex has left one man dead.”

Elena's breath caught. “They're talking about what happened at your apartment, aren't they?”

“Yeah. And we'd better listen.”

“Shane Gallagher, head of security at S&D Systems, and Elena Reyes, another employee of the high-tech firm, are wanted for questioning regarding the murder.”

Beside Shane, Elena's eyes were wide. “He's dead,” she gasped out.

“Because he came after us and started shooting at me. One of us was going down, and I wanted to make sure I walked away.”

“What are we going to do?” she asked.

“My plans haven't changed. I mean I'm not turning around and going back there. And I'm not turning you over to Lincoln Kinkead.”

“Why?”

“It's a bad idea,” he answered, unwilling to share his reasoning.

She apparently wasn't going to leave it at that. “But we're wanted for questioning. And shooting that man was self-defense. You have to tell that to the police.”

“We're going to lose a lot of time if we go to the cops.”

Her voice had gone high and strained. “But we didn't do anything wrong. Well, I mean at your apartment.”

He snorted. “Haven't you seen how things get twisted around in the legal system? People go to jail for years for things they didn't do. Or they get off for something they did do.”

She gave a small nod.

He took his eyes from the road for a moment and gave her a hard stare. “You should have thought twice before you went into the S&D building to get that stuff from Blake's desk.”

She looked like he'd slapped her, then firmed her lips. “Right. Too bad I didn't come to you first.” She stared ahead of her, and he could see wheels turning in her head. Swinging back to him, she said, “I asked you how you found out about the job as chief of security at S&D. Did you tell me the truth?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Because of the way you hesitated before answering and because of how wound up you are with this case.”

“Any chief of security would be wound up with a theft at their company,” he clipped out.

“That's all it is?”

He sighed.

“What are you really—a cop?” she asked in a flat voice. “No, that doesn't make sense. You wouldn't be wanted for questioning if you were a cop. Or maybe they'd say that if they didn't want people to think so.”

He heard her snort as she finished working her way through that twisted logic. He wished they hadn't gotten into this conversation, but on the other hand, he didn't see much point in stonewalling. “Okay, I work for Rockfort Security. After Blake was shot, Kinkead hired us to find out who was planning to steal proprietary information from the company. And here you are.”

She winced. “I didn't steal anything.”

“What would you call it?”

“He'd already stolen it. I took it out of his desk.”

“Yeah, right.”

“You think I'm lying?”

“I wish I knew what to think,” he answered, this time keeping his eyes on the road.

***

Elena hated the flat tone of Shane's voice as she huddled next to him in the car. She cut him a sideways glance, thinking that he wasn't much like the man who had kissed her so passionately. Was that why she had come to him—because he'd made her trust him? Or because she'd thought he was the only one who had a chance of getting her out of the mess she'd gotten into.

She was alone with him, going God knew where. She'd followed him out of the garage without question—not that she'd had much choice. The men who'd captured her had been tough and determined like Shane. But they'd had a sinister quality that had set her teeth on edge. And if they were connected to the men who were after her brother, then she absolutely understood why Alesandro was afraid for his life.

When Shane volunteered nothing else, she endured the silence for long moments, then finally whispered, “I got you in trouble by taking that phone, then coming to your apartment.”

He still kept his eyes on the road, but his voice softened a little. “It's better that you came to me instead of taking the information to your brother.”

“That doesn't exactly sound like a vote of confidence.”

“Sorry.”

Again they lapsed into silence, and she kept her own face forward, casting him sidewise glances as he drove into the night.

As they fled the D.C. metro area, she couldn't help thinking that her life had gotten tangled up with his rather quickly. Maybe because he'd been stalking her, she thought now. Well, not stalking, but he'd probably been looking for suspects at S&D, and she'd been at the top of his list because she was in the IT department. And then he'd found out she'd had some dealings with Arnold.

But she still didn't know much about Shane Gallagher, beyond what she'd learned in the past few days. Especially the past few hours.

He'd already proven that he could handle himself in a tight spot. And for that matter, he'd also proven that he cared about her, beyond simply thinking of her as a suspect. He had risked his life to save her in the garage. She had no doubt of that. Still, she wished she was sure that they'd come out of this mess okay.

Her vision had been turned inward. When she saw an overhead highway sign for the Bay Bridge, she asked, “We're going to the Eastern Shore?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It's an isolated area. You have to go to some trouble to get there.”

Was that truly going to help them? She didn't ask, looking for the seven-mile bridge that spanned Chesapeake Bay.

“You've driven here a lot of times,” she ventured.

“Yeah. What about you?”

“My parents took us to Ocean City a couple of times for short vacations.” She glanced at him. “The bridge is so high. It scared me.”

“The bridge gets to a lot of people. Some drivers freeze up, and the cops have to come and get them.”

“Truly?”

“Yeah.” He gestured into the darkness. “It's easier at night, actually. You can't see much.”

“Okay.”

She saw Shane swing his gaze toward her and tried to relax her jaw. It wasn't just the height, of course. He had said he was taking her to a safe house. All she knew was that he was taking her
somewhere.
Somewhere isolated where she would have no chance to get away or call her brother. She was sure she had put Alesandro in danger, but she hadn't been able to make herself do what he'd asked, either. Now that they were leaving him in the lurch, she was sick with worry about him. And worried about herself, if she was honest.

***

Lincoln Kinkead pushed his chair back from the security console and stood up. Struggling to keep his breathing even, he paced the length of the lobby and came back to where he'd been sitting.

Something was going on here. More than he'd bargained for. Was Gallagher lying about men shooting up his apartment? To buy himself time? That was easy enough to check.

He glanced at the clock and saw he'd missed the evening news. But there was an all-news station in D.C. He could pick up the broadcast at the guard station.

He tuned it in, then waited tensely through a weather report. When the news reader started talking about a fire at a Rockville apartment complex and a dead man in the garage, he cursed. Gallagher wasn't lying about that. He was wanted for questioning, but apparently he'd decided to run instead of turning himself in.

“Shit.”

Lincoln shook his head. His security chief—the man he'd hired to find the rotten apple in S&D—had just gone rogue. He'd known there was some chance of that. He'd spent a lot of time going over Gallagher's record before he'd given him the assignment. And spent a lot of time digging into other cases Rockfort had handled. He'd found out they didn't always follow accepted procedures. But they got results, which was what he was counting on.

Now this.

He stopped and looked at the two security guards, who were watching him with interest.

He ordered himself to relax because he wasn't going to let them know that the situation was spinning out of control.

“Get me Bert Iverson on the phone,” he said.

A minute later, a sleepy voice came on the line. “Yes?”

“I need you to come in to S&D.”

“What's up?” his assistant security chief asked.

“A big problem. I'll explain when you get here.”

***

Max Lyon looked at his partner, Jack Brandt. They both had police scanners at home, and they'd both been listening when all hell had broken loose at Shane's apartment. Both had dropped what they were doing and rushed to the office, where they waited for a call from Shane. It didn't come.

“He's gone underground,” Max muttered. “Because he doesn't want to get us involved. At least not yet.”

“I think he'll call if he thinks it's safe.”

“Otherwise we may be able to follow the trail of mayhem he leaves in his wake.”

“That bad?” Jack asked.

“I hope not.”

***

After they'd crossed the bridge, Shane continued up Route 50. He'd been thinking about what they were going to do when they got to their destination. Elena was probably wondering about that, too. But he wasn't going to share anything with her until they got to the safe house.

Leaving Route 50, he took a winding road toward one of the small towns that dotted the area. Turning in at a driveway, he drove fifty yards further until he came to a gate, where he opened the car window and punched in the security code. When the gate swung open, he took the access road into the darkness, through the woods and into a parking area in front of what had once been an old farmhouse.

“We're here,” he said.

When he opened his door and got out, Elena did the same. He crossed a short stretch of gravel and climbed the three steps to the wide porch where he stopped at the front door to punch in another security code.

He didn't look behind him, but he heard his companion climb the steps. When he opened the door, she followed him inside.

The house had been gutted to make a great room with a leather sofa and chairs at one side and a kitchen on the far wall, with a dining area between. He walked across the room and turned on a couple of lamps on end tables, keeping the lighting low. Then he went to the keypad on the kitchen wall and checked all the alarms. When he was satisfied that nobody could sneak up on them, he walked around, drawing the shades.

When he turned, he found Elena watching him.

“We're staying here?” she asked.

“Yeah. There are three bedrooms upstairs, each with its own bath. The one to the right of the stairs is for female guests.”

“Okay.”

He watched her look around.

“Isn't it expensive to keep this place vacant?”

“It's part of the cost of doing business.”

“You mean this belongs to S&D?”

“No. Rockfort Security. Sometimes we need privacy—and security.”

When she nodded, he said, “Give me the cell phone. The one you think has the information Blake stole.”

“Okay,” she said in a low voice. Turning slightly, she unbuttoned the top button of her blouse, and he wondered if she was trying to get his mind on another track. But she was only retrieving the cell phone from where she'd said she put it. She reached inside her bra, pulled out the instrument, and held it out in her hand.

He took the phone from her, feeling the warmth of the plastic that had been next to her skin. Conscious that her gaze was fixed on him, he stepped to the kitchen counter and turned on a fluorescent light so he could see what he was doing. Using a knife, he pried the back off the phone and examined the inner workings. Carefully, he took out the SIM card and held it up.

“This could be nothing more than an ordinary card,” he said.

“I know. But I think the clues Arnold gave me argue that it's something else.”

“Let's hope so.”

He looked around the room, evaluating his options. “I'm going to put this in a safe place.”

“Where?”

He waited a beat before saying, “I think it's better if I don't tell you.”

She swallowed hard. “Maybe that's right.”

He clicked the case back on the phone and shoved the knife back into a kitchen drawer.

“Be right back.”

When she nodded, he went to the basement stairs. Of course, a basement was an unusual feature on the Eastern Shore, but Rockfort had found a house with one.

After turning on the light, he descended and looked back the way he'd come. Elena was nowhere in sight, and unless she had some kind of reverse periscope, she wasn't going to see what he was doing.

He walked to the tool bench. There was a small gap where one of the table legs was attached to the top, and he shoved the card into the space, then used a screwdriver head to push it far enough in so that it was invisible. If you didn't know it was there, you wouldn't be able to find it. After replacing the screwdriver, he returned to the first floor to find Elena standing where he'd left her, looking lost and uncertain.

He'd been intent on taking care of the evidence. Now he suddenly thought of everything that had happened to her during the past few hours and had to fight the impulse to reach for her and fold her into his arms. She looked like she needed holding, but he thought that was a bad idea, considering the passion that had flared between them when he'd kissed her in the car after their dinner together.

As he'd held her then, he'd thought about asking if he could come inside with her. If he had, he would have bumped into her brother waiting for her. That thought helped him keep his objectivity. And also brought up another point. What if he'd confronted the brother earlier? Could the last few violent hours have been avoided? Would he have known by looking at Alesandro that something bad was about to go down? Or would he have simply thought that the brother was being hostile to a guy who wanted to sleep with his sister?

He tried to dismiss that last thought and return to the subject of violence. He was used to it, but Elena wasn't. And because he wanted to help her cope with her recent ordeal, he said, “You should drink something.”