Body of Evidence (Evidence Series) (34 page)

Her breathing became a ragged pant as the sound of his voice and the pressure of her fingers brought her closer to the edge.

“Your thighs tighten. I can feel your whole body coil when you clench down on my fingers.”

“Oh. Curt—”

“That’s it, sweetheart. Come for me. Feel my mouth on your clit, my fingers inside you.”

Her eyes were closed. His voice reached across the miles to caress her soul. She could feel his hands, his mouth, his heartbeat. He was here with her, and it was his touch that pushed her quaking body over the edge. A powerful orgasm rocked her. She let out a guttural cry.

“God, that’s sexy,” Curt said. “I wish I could see your face and follow up by sliding inside you. I want to make you mine.”

I am yours.

A moment passed before the quaking stopped and she could speak. “When can we do this for real?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. The trial will be done soon. We’ll figure something out once it’s over.”

After he sent her uncle to prison. Christ, what was she doing falling in love with this man?

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-FIVE

T
HE CALL CAME
from Palea at midnight. “Curt, I’m e-mailing you a photo from Mara’s hard disk right now. I think you’ll find it interesting.”

Curt ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. Weeks of being short on sleep had caught up with him. Add to that his incredible date with Mara and the erotic dreams that followed, and he’d uncharacteristically failed at hiding his groggy state.

“This better be good. Tonight was the first night I’ve gone to sleep before midnight in days.” He slipped from the bed and padded into his office.

“Depends, is nailing Beck and Stevens on the arms deal
good
?”

Adrenaline shot through him, eclipsing fatigue. “You’ve got the arms deal?”

“In HD clarity.”

He dropped into the office chair and woke his computer. It took a few minutes for the e-mail to download. “High-res digital camera?”

“You can count the pores on the Janjaweed militia leader’s ugly face.”

Curt opened the preview image. “Holy fuck.” There he was. A mass murderer sitting two feet away from Andrew Stevens. “Shit, Palea. The prosecution rested today.”

“Get it in on cross.”

“I can’t. Not without Mara to authenticate it.”

“You definitely need her. The others are all dead, missing, or in on it. Robert Beck is next to Andrew Stevens. Roddy Brogan is with Jeannie Fuller behind the VP, and I think that’s Evan Beck’s shoulder on the right. But Curt, zoom in on the Secret Service agents in the background.”

Curt did as instructed. “Palea, you fucking genius. Those aren’t Secret Service agents. Those are Robert Beck’s top operatives.”

“Merry Christmas,
brah
.”

This was his birthday and Christmas rolled into one. Mara had taken a picture of Raptor’s CEO, Raptor’s chief of operations, two operatives contracted out to JPAC, and two operatives pretending to be Secret Service agents, all meeting with a Janjaweed militia leader who was posing as an Egyptian villager. The meeting took place in a remote Egyptian village in the midst of a JPAC recovery operation, but Curt strongly doubted any of those people were there to mourn the American soldiers who died in Egypt during World War II.

“
W
E’LL NEED
G
ARRETT
to authenticate it,” Aurora said, sitting in front of her computer while Sam hovered over her shoulder and Curt leaned against a file cabinet. It was three in the morning on Saturday, and even though the trial wouldn’t resume until Monday, this couldn’t wait until dawn. She cursed, then said, “Why didn’t Palea get this photo to us yesterday, before we rested?”

“The FBI did everything they could to deny access to Mara’s computer—which they’d confiscated from a crime scene. I had to get a subpoena, just to find out the disk had been wiped.” He crossed his arms. “Then, when I learned where the backup hard drive was”—Aurora’s eyes flickered, telling him she’d guessed how he’d managed
that
—“he had to go through hoops to retrieve it so it would have a clean chain-of-evidence.”

Aurora growled. “Goddamn politics.”

Curt leaned forward and reached for the mouse. With a click, he opened another picture. “This is the photo of the warlord that Palea used for comparison.”

Sam pointed to the pictured man’s left cheek. “Same scar. Same goofy grin. He knew Garrett was taking his picture and didn’t care.”

“I think Evan Beck saw what she was doing,” Curt said, “and tried to block the shot. They started dating in Egypt. I’m guessing he was trying to get access to her camera and computer.” Anger simmered over the idea a scumbag like Beck had ever touched her, let alone did it to serve Raptor. “He crashed her hard disk twice but didn’t know where she kept the backup.”

“If we get this accepted into evidence, we can motion to have the charges conformed to the evidence,” Aurora said. “The arms deal would be a slam dunk after that.”

Curt shook his head. “We can’t do that without Mara to authenticate.”

“We can bring her in as a rebuttal witness. Odds are Stevens will take the stand, so get him to deny the photo is authentic and she’s in.”

“We don’t need the photo for this trial,” Curt said. “We can save it for Beck. We’ve got Stevens on obstruction and influence peddling. He won’t get off.”

“Dammit, Dominick! Have you gone soft? We both know the obstruction charge could result in a presidential pardon. If we can prove the arms deal, he’ll get ten years—and it will be damn hard for any president to issue a pardon.”

Shit. Aurora was right. His gut clenched, and a piece of his heart ripped open.

He’d always thought the worst part of falling in love was the inevitable pain of breakup, but now he understood the truth. The worst part was knowing he would devastate her by doing the one thing he had to do. “I can get her here before this goes to the jury.”

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-SIX

I
T WAS TIME
to move to a new motel. Mara never spent more than two nights in the same place and left the Atlantic City dive without regret, knowing the next stop on her tour of the seedy casino fringe would be neither better nor worse. At least in Atlantic City she had plenty of options. She was merely another person wishing to remain anonymous in a place known for attracting the dregs of society. Atlantic City lacked even the questionable class of Las Vegas.

The motel she checked into at three in the afternoon on Saturday was as shabby and worn as the last. Her third-floor room boasted bars on the window and a surprisingly solid door with a massive dead bolt.

This was as safe as she would get, if she didn’t mind feeling imprisoned. Again.

She didn’t bother to unpack her paltry backpack of supplies gathered from thrift stores in Michigan, Ohio, and Pennsylvania. She never left a thing behind when she went anywhere. She could, and would, flee at any time.

She’d been in Atlantic City since Tuesday night and planned to give Jeannie a few more days before she would drive two hundred miles away and try Twitter again.

Two and a half years ago, before Evan, before indictments, before Raptor had so thoroughly infiltrated JPAC, Mara had flown to DC to visit her uncle at the same time Jeannie had flown to New York to visit her hometown. At the end of their respective visits, they’d met up in Atlantic City for a girl’s weekend. Mara had never been into gambling. Casinos were Jeannie’s thing—and now, Mara realized, her brother Eric’s as well—but Mara had enjoyed the in-house spa while Jeannie parked herself in front of a slot machine and tapped the electronic buttons to her heart’s content.

On the second night of their long weekend, Mara found Jeannie in the back corner, feeding a quarter slot machine. Ready to leave for dinner, Jeannie hit the button one last time. Symbols lined up, and she won the jackpot. Nothing life-changing, but the four-hundred-dollar payout bought dinner that night and was the highlight of an enjoyable weekend.

Mara knew Jeannie would understand her cryptic Twitter direct message. If Jeannie read it and wanted to see her, she’d know to find Mara in the same corner of the casino where she hit the jackpot. Mara went to the casino every day and waited, sometimes for five minutes, and sometimes for hours.

Jeannie would show up. She had to. Her brother was dead, she was on the run, and she probably had as many questions as she had answers. If nothing else, Mara would drag her ass to DC so she could tell the Departments of State and Homeland Security what had happened in North Korea and Curt could get his search warrants for Raptor facilities.

But to do that, she needed to find Jeannie, without making it easy for Raptor to find her. She’d head back to the casino in an hour, but for now, all she wanted to do was flop on the bed and watch the news.

She flipped through the cable news channels, looking for stories about Curt so she could see his face even though the thought of calling him made her blush. She’d had phone sex with the man, but she was the only one who’d gotten off.

She was being such a
girl
, with her day-after doubts, but still couldn’t help but worry—what if when she saw him again, the wonderful man who’d taken her on several dates and courted her with such ardor on the phone turned back into the ruthless prosecutor?

His picture flashed on the screen, followed by a photo of her uncle. The reporter said her uncle’s defense was falling apart and laid odds Uncle Andrew would opt to take the stand on Monday because he was certain to lose otherwise.

There were exactly two men alive who mattered to her: an uncle she adored and a hero she was falling in love with. But one’s success meant the other’s destruction. There could be no happy ending for both.

The phone rang, and in spite of her mixed feelings, she lunged for it. Her days were filled with tawdry casinos and dingy motels. Curt and their imaginary relationship was her sole escape from the depressing landscape.

“Hi, Gorgeous. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. Today has been nuts.”

His warm tone sent quivers straight to her crotch. “It’s okay. I didn’t expect to hear from you until tonight.”

“I’ve been thinking about you.” His voice deepened and became suggestive. “All day.”

Her heart went into overdrive. “I’ve been thinking about you too.”

“Good. Mara, the trial will wrap soon. Another few days and it’s done. Raptor might step up efforts to find you after the trial, expecting you to make a move. I want you to come to DC.”

The suggestion startled her. “You mean now?”

“Yes. They won’t expect it. They won’t be looking for you here.”

“But why DC? I could go anywhere.”
And I need to find Jeannie.

“Because I’m here.” He paused. “And it’s time for you to come forward. I need you to tell the secretary of state about the smallpox.”

She pursed her lips and debated her options. Finally, she said, “I went to see an epidemiologist. I’ve got blood-test results. You can prove I had smallpox without me being there.”