Body of Evidence (Evidence Series) (22 page)

“I didn’t receive a payoff.”

“But someone sure made it look like you did.”

“It doesn’t make sense. Maybe Evan and Roddy did steal the bomb, but they are just two people. They aren’t Raptor. Over the years I’ve worked with several Raptor operatives. I know them. I can’t think of a single reason they’d want a smallpox bomb.”

“They’re mercenaries. Everything they do is for money. Including trading arms with war criminals.” Curt’s voice held frustration mixed with exhaustion. “You must know my investigation into your uncle’s shady financial dealings led to a suspected arms deal.”

“I know you claim he sold arms to a warlord in Darfur. But that’s impossible.”

“He did it, Mara.”

“But you never found any proof.”

“No, because he destroyed it. I can’t get him for the arms deal, but I can nail him for destroying documents that had been subpoenaed.”

She turned away and fluffed her pillow. Was it naïve to still have faith in her uncle? She thought she’d left naïveté behind in North Korea.

Curt’s voice broke the tense silence. “Why didn’t you tell me about the bomb before?”

She settled her head onto the old, flat pillow, and stared at the ceiling. Mirrored, like any good hourly motel should be. It was too dark to see her unhappy reflection. All that was visible was the light from the alarm clock and the street lamp glow that bled around the curtains.

“As far as I knew, the bombs had been destroyed in place by Evan on a remote North Korean hillside. I didn’t know they were in play and was afraid you’d want to somehow use the information that I’d uncovered a biological weapon against Uncle Andrew—which you do—and there is no evidence he had
anything
to do with it. Furthermore, your investigation could expose the fact that the US really did test smallpox bombs on North Korea. Do you realize what the North Korean government would do with that information?”

“It wouldn’t be pretty.”

“Aside from heightened tensions, they’d order troops to comb the hillsides for more weapons. They’d desecrate every American crash site. Appalling enough they’ve got nukes, what if they ended up with smallpox as well?”

“Some believe they already have smallpox.”

She twisted to face him, barely making out his profile in the dark. “I planned to tell about the bomb. When I got to DC, I was going to tell the secretaries of Homeland Security and State.”

“It would have been nice if I’d been on your short list. It’s my job to prosecute high crimes, and I know how to keep secrets.” His words expressed hurt, while his arms enfolded her.

She pressed her nose against his chest and breathed deeply. “When we met, the one thing I knew about you is that you are prosecuting one of the people I trust most in the world.”

“Trust. Present tense.” His arms fell away.

She closed her eyes, missing his warmth. He’d made his terms clear. But she’d known her uncle a hell of a lot longer than Curt Dominick. “Yes.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-TWO

F
INGERS OF LIGHT
reached around the edges of the blinds, letting Curt know dawn had arrived in Tucson.

Tucson
. Day two of jury selection and he was in Tucson, quite literally in bed with the defendant’s niece. In sleep, her smooth skin and delicate features didn’t hold the weariness and anxiety he’d grown accustomed to seeing on her face. Her soft lips relaxed, and all he wanted to do was gather her against him and explore her mouth with his own.

Hell, he wanted to explore
all
of her with his mouth. He’d never felt such relentless desire. But then, in the past, when he developed emotions that bordered on uncontrollable, he’d moved on. Life was safer that way. He’d have done the same with Mara, except he was stuck with her.

He needed her to testify. She could show a pattern of corruption. He couldn’t forget that. And deep down he knew what happened on that North Korean hillside was connected to Raptor, but there was no way to draw the line all the way to Stevens.

Yet.

Another man had died. Mara needed to tell an investigator what she knew about Jeannie and Eric Fuller without mentioning the smallpox bomb. The existence of weaponized smallpox was a top-secret security threat that could cause nationwide panic. For that reason, his suspicions could be divulged only to the head of Homeland Security, the State Department, or the Department of Justice. All three would be notified as soon as Curt could safely do so.

Raptor had strong ties to the military and fingers in the FBI. Aside from Palea and a handful of others, he didn’t know who he could trust. Curt wished he could call Bixby, the president’s chief of staff, but that number was one of many in his cell phone that had been compromised.

The bed creaked as he sat up to see the digital clock. Last night, he’d called the Arizona US attorney, a woman he knew only by reputation. She’d promised him a car and cash, to be delivered to the Denny’s restaurant down the street in an hour. If they hurried, they’d be able to have a decent breakfast before hitting the road.

After quick—and separate—showers for them both, they were seated in a back booth. The waitress had just delivered their food when a man approached their table. “I have your vehicle, Mr. Dominick,” he said, sotto voce.

Mara growled with the fierceness of a mama bear protecting her cub. “I’m starving, and this is the first meal since North Korea that wasn’t prepared in a microwave or takeout. I’m eating here.”

The young attorney had been in the process of offering Mara his hand, but as she was intent on maintaining a death grip on her overloaded plate, he shifted to Curt. “Assistant US Attorney Anthony Palazzolo.”

Curt shook his hand and slid over in the booth. “Have a seat.”

The man sat and eyed Mara nervously as she made quick work of an omelet and hash browns. “I have some questions for you, Ms. Garrett,” he said softly. “About your relationship with Eric Fuller.”

“Before we start, Mr. Palazzolo,” Curt said, “we need assurance that no one will know your office provided us with assistance. It’s imperative.”

“I’ve been instructed to turn over my notes to FBI Agent—” He pulled out a notebook and glance at the page. “Kaha’i Palea, in Honolulu. He, in turn, will pass the information to the local FBI without revealing who conducted the interview.”

Curt smiled. “After we reach DC, you can talk to the local agents directly. But since you’ve brought us a car, no one can know you’ve helped us until she’s inside a safe house in DC.”

“Aren’t you being a little extreme, sir? It’s my understanding that the chief suspect is her ex-boyfriend, who by all accounts was obsessed with her.” The man again checked his notebook. “The victim, Eric Fuller, was in a very public fight with the suspect ten months ago. And, according to witness statements, the two men fought over Ms. Garrett. Right now this looks like simple domestic violence.”

M
ARA DROPPED HER
fork as the food she’d been savoring turned bitter in her mouth. Curt leaned toward Palazzolo and spoke in a low but menacing tone. “You can believe whatever you want, Mr. Palazzolo, but your boss assured me she’d conceal the fact her office aided us until after we are safely in DC.”

Curt Dominick in protective mode was a sight to behold.

Palazzolo leaned away and looked as though he would slide to the floor given the opportunity. “Absolutely, sir.” He cleared his throat and sat upright again. “But it’s my job to question her.”

Curt’s nod was as clipped as his name. “Proceed.”

Mara told the assistant US attorney about her broken engagement and the humiliation of realizing Evan had been paid to date her. As she spoke she pushed her food around on her plate, no longer hungry. A sip of cold coffee indicated the interview had taken far too long. “We should hit the road,” she said.

Curt nodded. He dropped cash on the table, and Palazzolo led the way out of the restaurant and to a white SUV parked in the corner of the lot. “The SUV is property of the Tucson office.” He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out an envelope. “The keys and ten thousand dollars, cash.”

Mara startled at the large sum but supposed at this point they needed to be prepared for anything.

“I’ll make sure the money and vehicle are returned to your office immediately upon our arrival in DC,” Curt said, tucking the envelope into his own breast pocket.

“One last item,” Palazzolo said. He pulled a handgun from his pocket. He slid the weapon open in a practiced movement, showing the chamber was empty, then handed over the gun, grip first, before producing a bullet magazine. “I understand you are trained to use a Glock.”

Curt nodded and took the clip, tucking it in his pants pocket, while the gun had gone into his jacket.

Palazzolo turned to her. “My boss wanted me to pass on a message to you, Ms. Garrett. Her father fought in World War II. He came home, but many didn’t. Her father often wished the MIAs could be found and properly buried, and she wanted me to thank you for the work you do.”

After his earlier assessment and dismissive attitude toward the danger she was in, his change in demeanor surprised her. She smiled and tilted her head to see his face, but the morning sun hit her in the eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Palazzolo.”

The man ducked his head. “Be safe,” he said and left them.

Strangely energized, she plucked the keys from Curt’s hand. “I’m driving first shift.” She circled the vehicle to the driver’s door. They had a car, money, a weapon, and nothing but open road between here and DC. This was the closest thing to freedom she’d felt in months.

Curt remained on the pavement, staring at her with the strangest look on his face. “Stop dawdling and get in,” she said. “Maybe we can make it to Oklahoma City by midnight.”

He shook his head as though to clear it and circled the vehicle.

H
E WAS LOSING
his mind. He had to be.

What was happening to him? One moment he was collecting cash and a gun from an assistant US attorney—a bizarre occurrence all by itself—and the next he’d been ensnared as the morning sun glinted off Mara’s blond hair, her blue eyes warmed with pleasure, and that elusive, charming dimple peeked over the horizon of her smile.

He’d spent the entire interview with Palazzolo adding up the facts and trying to decide if the theory Evan pursued her out of jealousy had merit. Only to have her once again take his hardened, suspicious heart and shatter it to dust with a radiant smile.

It wasn’t just the smile, it was the deep-seated pride she took in the work she did. He’d met so many frauds in his line of work, men and women who ran charitable foundations not for the cause but for the accolades. Mara was the real deal. Her work meant something to her.

As a man devoted to his profession, he respected that.

How was it possible? How could he be falling for her?

Helpless, hopeless, he wrenched open the door and slid into the passenger seat. Mara put the vehicle in reverse. In his mind, he stopped her by cupping her face between his hands and kissing her. It would be a swift, hot kiss. He’d slide his tongue between her lips, drink in her shocked gasp and warm response. But he couldn’t. It was only a possibility in an alternate universe. One in which she wasn’t a witness and he wasn’t The Shark.