Body of Evidence (Evidence Series) (27 page)

There was so much more to the story, and for some crazy reason, he
wanted
her to know. To understand him. Because no one had in the longest time.

It had been years since anyone had even asked.

“When I was fourteen, I was picked on a lot at that school. I was the poor kid who’d skipped two grades. I outscored everyone on the exams and blew the curve. My classmates were rewarded with things like trips to Europe for getting As, and I kept screwing that up for them. I’d been taking karate for several years and thought I could handle myself, so one day an argument came to blows. I was younger and weaker and had my ass handed to me. So I started lifting, bulked up, and trained in other martial arts. By my senior year—when I was sixteen—I didn’t know what I was capable of.”

“And you got in a fight again.” The vibrant energy that accompanied his initial revelation had left her as the conversation became serious. “And beat the crap out of him because he’d pulled a knife on you.”

But it hadn’t been the knife; it had been his opponent’s words. Curt’s girlfriend had found a new guy, without the courtesy of breaking up first. The boy’s taunts had triggered heartache, which unleashed primal violence.

“My first time in a courtroom, I was a defendant. The case against me was dropped after my ex-girlfriend recanted and admitted the other guy brought the knife to school to threaten me. Her father—a prominent attorney—and the senator sent the happy couple to the Virgin Islands for a week to recover from the emotional trauma.”

“He didn’t get into trouble for bringing a weapon to school?”

“He said he was invincible because his dad was a senator. And he was right.”

“And you’ve worked your whole life to change that.”

“Yes. And as attorney general, I’ll ensure no one believes they are above the law.” The moment the case was dismissed, he’d felt a rush of clarity. He shelved his application to MIT for a degree in chemical engineering and applied to Harvard, all while fearing his violent action had made acceptance impossible.

When his acceptance letter arrived, he’d vowed he wouldn’t screw up again. He wouldn’t squander the opportunity he’d been given.

Violence existed inside him, and heartache had released it, so he swore off love and relationships in favor of career and never regretted his decision. Now, twenty-two years later, he was on the cusp of achieving his ultimate goal, and for the first time since he was sixteen, he felt something for a woman he couldn’t push away.

He shook his head at the irony and pressed the accelerator to the floor. The sooner they got to DC, the sooner he could be himself again.

Miles passed under the tires, while minutes inched by. He wasn’t entirely certain the space-time continuum had remained constant during the endless drive, but would wait to do the math when he got home.

Mara checked the phone at random intervals as planned, and three hours after sending the initial text, she received a reply: TRYING TO CALL. LEAVE PHONE ON.

“That could have been sent by anyone,” Curt said.

“Should I ignore it?”

“No. Tell her to call at three Eastern Time.” He signaled for the next exit.

“Why are you pulling over?”

“We’re going to switch drivers so I can talk to Jeannie—if it’s Jeannie.”

“She won’t talk to you.”

“She should. No one knows how to cut a deal with a conspirator better than me.”

“Maybe she’s not a conspirator.”

“She took a payoff. She might be a victim, but she’s also a conspirator.”

“It looks like I took a payoff too, but I didn’t.”

Curt was silent.

Her face flushed. “Damn it! You know I—”

“Jeannie altered your field notebook and lied about why you left the site,” he said, cutting off her outrage. “Records in her computer show her brother’s gambling debts were paid by an offshore account that contained a hundred grand. She’s a conspirator.”

“Let me talk to her first; then you can float deals. Okay?” She tapped out a text message while Curt pulled to the side of the frontage road. She shut off the phone until the appointed time.

Mara jolted when the phone rang at three o’clock sharp. She held the phone between them, and caller ID showed a number. “That’s Jeannie,” she confirmed.

“Answer on speaker phone.”

She took a deep breath and hit the button. “Jeannie, do you know what happened to your brother?”

“Yes, Mara. She does,” a man said.

Mara gasped.

Curt snatched the phone and hit Disconnect. He snapped plastic in his rush to pry off the back and pluck out the battery. “Was that Evan?”

Her face was sickly pale. “Yes.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-SIX

C
URT THREW THE
SUV in drive and floored the accelerator. “We don’t know what kind of toys Raptor has for hacking phones. That shouldn’t have been a long enough connection to lock in on our signal, but we can’t take the chance. Use the other phone to call Palea. Tell him Evan found Jeannie.”

She blanched even paler. “Do you think she’s still alive?”

What could he say? There were no words to soften this blow. He reached across the console and squeezed her hand. “It doesn’t look good for her.”

“I’m going to be sick.”

“Can you hold it together until we put some distance between us and where we answered the call?”

She nodded, her lips tightly sealed. She gripped his fingers to the point of pain.

His gut churned. “We should change our route. Go north or south, then resume east.” Opening arguments were probably wrapping up now. Tomorrow the first witness would take the stand, and again he wouldn’t be there.

“No, Curt. You can’t miss any more of the trial.” The death grip on his fingers intensified.

“I’ll miss all of it if Evan finds us.”

“What if we find him?” she asked in a low, quiet voice. “And we were ready for him.”

Raindrops splattered the windshield, the first drops of what promised to be a nasty storm. Curt flipped the wipers on and tightened his one-handed grip on the wheel. “Ready for him?”

“He’s after me. What if we let him find me? We could be waiting for him…”

He took his eyes off the developing squall to glare at her. “
Waiting for him?
You want to be bait?” Fear tore through him with the ferocity of a lightning bolt. “No. No fucking way, Mara.”

“Why not? I’ll be bait when I testify. Raptor could have a whole squadron of operatives outside the courthouse, waiting for me.”

The road darkened as they entered the heart of the storm, forcing him to release her hand and take the wheel in a two-handed grip. “You’ll be surrounded by FBI agents.” Even as he said the words, he wondered how he could go on if he failed her.

D
ARKNESS HAD LONG
since fallen when Lee called. Curt was driving, so Mara answered the phone. “Raptor has facilities in Hawai’i, Texas, Alaska, Virginia, and Montana,” he said. “Don’t tell Curt this, but I did a little
research
into company flight logs.” Mara took that to mean he’d hacked into Raptor’s system—a feat that drew her admiration. Curt hadn’t been kidding about Lee’s technical skills. “Four days after Roddy and Evan returned from North Korea, they took a Raptor jet and flew to Virginia with a stopover at the Texas compound.”

“They could have delivered the bomb to Texas or Virginia,” Mara said.

“That’s my thinking. Virginia is the most likely choice. That’s where their technological hub is, and where they’d most likely have the ability to reverse engineer the bomb.”

“Where in Virginia is it?”

“Not far south of DC. Their home office is in the city, but that’s primarily the business wing—”

“Yes, I know about the DC office. It’s where my uncle works.”

“Right. Sorry.”

After she hung up, Mara relayed the flight information, but not how Lee had obtained it.

“He hacked Raptor, didn’t he?”

She shrugged, refusing to be the snitch.

“Interesting, but useless. I can’t tell a judge about those flights in my request for a search warrant.”

A
T ONE A.M.
Eastern time, they crossed the state line from Tennessee to Virginia. In seven hours, they’d reach DC. Mara was at the wheel for the momentous crossing.

“Pull over at the next exit,” Curt instructed. “We need gas and I need to stretch my legs.”

The gas station was a huge truck stop with attached diner. Big rigs flanked both sides of the lot, engines idling as their drivers filled up on coffee and food.

She shivered as she reached for the pump. The pullover they’d purchased in Amarillo couldn’t compete with the cold late-October Virginia night. Curt removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “We should’ve bought you a warmer coat at Target.”

She slipped her arms through the sleeves and looked damn cute in the oversized coat. “Thanks,” she said, pulling it tighter around her midsection. “Damn, it’s cold here.” Her teeth chattered.

“Go inside and get some coffee,” he said. “I’ll pump the gas.”

She cocked her head to the side. “You sure?”

This was a break in their protocol. He hadn’t left her side in days. He nodded toward the bright windows of the well-lit diner. “I’m watching.”

She stepped forward and brushed her lips over his, a soft kiss that made him want more. He caught her arm, pulled her against him, and kissed her deeply. Igniting fires he shouldn’t, taking pleasure he couldn’t have.

This was foolish. Wrong. He released her mouth. Her eyes were hot, smoky with arousal, and her breath came out in uneven pants.

“When this is over, Mara, I’m going to take you somewhere quiet and safe, and make love to you for days.” He shouldn’t have voiced the fantasy he’d harbored for thousands of miles, but she’d decimated his control.

“When this is over, we probably won’t be on speaking terms.”

He pressed a finger to her lips. “Who said anything about talking?”

She chuckled. Her forehead rested against his chest for a moment; then she took a deep breath and said, “I’ll get coffee.”

With that, she dashed to the diner. He turned back to the tank, inserted the nozzle, then remembered he needed to give the clerk in the glass booth cash to get the pump started. He reached for the money envelope, but it was in his coat pocket. Circling around the vehicle to catch up to her, he came face-to-face with Evan Beck and his Glock 23.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-SEVEN