Campaign of Desire (CSA Case Files 4) (28 page)

Jax and Connor folded up their plates and tossed them into the trash while Kevin went to his cubicle to roll out the large whiteboard he liked to use when mapping out investigations. Fuck, but it was going to be a long day ahead if they were going to retrace ten years’ worth of assignments that Capre had taken.

“Let me know what else you uncover,” Crest replied, walking back towards his office. “I’ll contact Taryn and Ethan. We need to find out why Capre made that pit stop and if it in any way involved Taryn’s father’s side of the family. Good work.”

Lach wasn’t the kind to respond to pats on the back and knew that Crest hadn’t said those last two words as such either. Any one of them could have found that lead. It just happened to be this morning and it happened to be him. It was what it was. Thinking of the saying that he’d come to associate with his life, his thoughts turned to Phoebe. He needed to send her a text message that he might be late tonight, although she should wait up for him. He had a gift to give her and he wouldn’t allow anything to get in the way of the evening he had planned.

“Let’s get this over with.”

Chapter Twenty-One

P
hoebe couldn’t remember the last time she’d ever felt so relaxed. Holding her half-finished glass of a delightfully sweet Leoville Barton 2010, she gave a contented sigh as she leaned back against Lach’s chest. It was just the two of them with no pressure from the outside world. They each had worked late and were sprawled out on the couch, the lights dimmed so they could appreciate the city scene outside the large window wall. Snow was being blown from the patios as if letting them know just how comfortable they were inside the warm apartment. They’d spent the evening sharing stories of their childhood and getting to know one another on a more intimate level. She’d delayed some important work that she hadn’t finished due to her luncheon with Ms. Alder, but being here with Lach like this was well worth any amount of work she’d have to do tomorrow.

“Do you still keep in contact with the men from your unit?”

“One. Vic Hartigan,” Lach replied, humor in every crevice of his tone. It was clear that he only had good thoughts when it came to his friend and comrade. “I see him probably once a year and every time I end up keeping his ass from getting arrested. I’m closer to some college buddies of mine, although the majority of them still live near my parents.”

“How often do you get back there?”

“Holidays, mostly.” Lach’s chest vibrated with emotion every time he spoke of his family. Phoebe still had a hard time thinking of him with parents and siblings, yet the more she got to know him, she was coming to understand why he was so quiet. He’d been the peacemaker among everyone, similar to how she was with her sister and father. “Since I didn’t get out there this past Christmas, I’ll make sure I make a trip this summer.”

“You could have gone,” Phoebe said, trying to tilt her head up to see Lach’s expression, but he tightened his thighs around hers to keep her in place. Even to her, the words rang hollow. She figured Crest wouldn’t have allowed time off during such a significant assignment as protecting the daughter of a U.S. Senator, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t feel guilt over what her detail had done to his personal life. “Another agent could have taken your position for a couple of days.”

“That’s not how the team works and you know it,” Lach replied, placing a tender kiss upon her head. “Remember, Miss Socialite, I knew what I signed up for when I went to work for Crest. There are some cases that I can sink my teeth into and there are others that just have to be done.”

“You’ve told me about your tour in the Marines and your time at UC Davis, but how did you join the FBI?” Phoebe pushed aside the sliver of hurt at his words, knowing that the detail her father had requested was probably on the end of where a case just had to be done. She tried not to take it too personally. “Was that something that you’d always wanted?”

“I was recruited by them halfway through my senior year. The FBI tend to employ heavily from specific colleges and UC Davis happens to be one of them.” Lach had joined her for a glass of her favorite wine and he seemed to appreciate the unique rich flavor of this powerful Bordeaux. He took a drink of his while his fingers on his other hand stroked her hair in a relaxing fashion, but with his follow up sentence she figured it was to distract her. “Then I ended up with CSA.”

“You always seem to skip over that part,” Phoebe said, casually pointing out the obvious. She knew Lach was well aware that he did too. What she wanted to do was turn so she could see his features, but she knew that if she did, their evening would undoubtedly take a turn that had to do with what she assumed was her brand new corset inside the white linen wrapped box near her front door. She definitely wanted that, but
needed
to know more about him. She fortified herself with another sip and pushed him a little harder. “Is there a specific reason you left the Bureau?”

“Have you ever made a decision that you knew was the right choice in regards to protocol, yet in your gut you knew that you should have done something different?” Lach’s voice gave the indication that he was far away from where they were and everything became still as she listened. “I was faced with a tough choice during a hostage negotiation. I took the wrong path.”

Phoebe could feel the tension radiating from Lach’s body as he shared what must have been a life altering moment. She wanted him to continue more than anything, yet she was afraid this would ruin the rapport they had established. She ran a finger around the rim of her glass, contemplating on her next words and hoping that he would eventually share a piece of what clearly affected him after all of these years. Surprisingly enough, he took the decision out of her hands.

“You know those days when you wake up and feel that you’re invincible?” Lach placed his wine glass on the coffee table and reached for the bottle. He poured what was left into her glass, although she was relatively sure he was the one that needed it most. “I’d proven myself time and time again in negotiating with hostage takers and making sure that the victims were released unharmed. There was an occasional hiccup, but nothing that shook my faith in my training or abilities. I’d made the right decisions at the right times when the chips were down.”

“I’m assuming you mean in regards to protocol?” Phoebe asked, keeping her voice as soft as she could.

“The FBI has spent billions of dollars perfecting those protocols and they work for a reason. Although people are vastly different, when exposed to certain stimuli their reactions are usually the same given certain variables.” Lach picked up his wine glass and downed the contents. She’d noticed that he only had one glass this evening while she’d pretty much drunk the rest of the expensive bottle. It had been over such a long span she really didn’t feel the effects of the alcohol. She was grateful for that, as she knew that Lach sharing this moment in his life meant something special and she didn’t want to forget a word of it. “There’s always an exception, a missed variable.”

Lach had said those last few words so quietly, Phoebe wasn’t so sure he had. Taking the chance and needing to see his face while he revealed this part of himself, she pushed herself up into a sitting position and propped herself up on the middle cushion. She shifted until she was facing him, her knee resting on his thigh to maintain contact.

“You were faced with that exception?” Phoebe asked, needing him to continue.

“Fuck. It was practically shoved down my throat.” Much to Phoebe’s disappointment, Lach pulled away and stood. He placed his empty wine glass on the coffee table and walked to the window. She was afraid he was done and that he would close himself off once more, but he surprised her when he leaned his forehead against the windowpane and kept talking. “It was payday and I’d gone into the bank to make a withdrawal. There’d been a line outside at the ATM. There was this man standing behind me and we struck up a conversation.”

Phoebe found that hard to believe, but she remained quiet. She’d been privy to Lach in a social setting, although granted it was work related, and he wasn’t prone to chitchat. The other man had to have been the one to initiate an exchange.

“He told me that his wife had fallen ill and that his daughter was just entering college.” Lach stared out the window at the snow that was swirling, as if it was creating a movie screen just for his viewing. “I replied with the standard polite comments that a person gave when put in that situation. It wasn’t that I hadn’t felt bad for the man, but I had been running late for a meeting. Human beings are self-centered that way and I was—am—no exception.”

Phoebe knew that if she were to give the standard reply that she was sure everyone else had given, it would make no difference. The world didn’t stop turning when tragedy struck one’s life. Everyone else’s existence continued on as if nothing had happened. She’d witnessed that firsthand when her mother had passed away. She felt sorry the man had been going through a terrible time in his life, but she was also certain that there had been nothing Lach could have said to make it any better.

“I did my business with the teller and then left, wishing him good luck. Lionel Rutledge was his name.”

Phoebe smothered her surprised gasp, as she’d heard the name before. It wasn’t just that she’d heard the name. She knew the Rutledge family personally and remembered the event Lach was speaking of as if it were yesterday. She had just gotten home from a trip abroad on a redeye and she hadn’t even had the energy to unpack that day. She’d made herself a cup of tea, knowing if she went to bed too early that morning it would mess up her schedule. She’d turned the television on, hoping the noise would keep her awake until late afternoon when she could safely fall asleep and still maintain a normal schedule for the rest of the week. That hadn’t been a problem considering she’d been glued to the television until the fateful conclusion.

“Lach, you don’t have to—”

“I hadn’t even made it one block when my cell started to go off, indicating we had a hostage situation. Lara, a member of my team, had been rattling off the details but all I heard was the location. I knew then exactly who it was and why.” Lach kept talking, although his voice sounded as if he were reciting a speech. His eyes had yet to focus on the here and now. Phoebe wanted to tell him to stop, yet she could see that he was lost back in time and the only way for him to find the present was to continue with his story. “Within fifteen minutes the van was across the street and S.W.A.T. was in place. My team was requested to provide support to S.W.A.T. because one of our forensic accounting field offices was located on an upper level of the bank. I gathered my guys by my side while the police cordoned off the area and made sure the pedestrians were kept at bay.”

Lach stopped talking, as if he was overrun by memories and he needed a chance to sort them out. Phoebe’s heart broke for him as she knew how the story ended, yet she knew there was so much more to hear. She tightened her grip on the stem of her glass, preventing herself from going to him. He wouldn’t welcome sympathy at the moment.

“By the time I got Lionel on the phone, he had the hostages lined up along the side of the wall on the ground floor where some small offices were located. He’d made sure to stay away from the windows, ensuring that S.W.A.T. or our snipers couldn’t get a sight on him. I’d come to find out that the teller had given him the cash in her drawer, as is protocol, but he’d wanted access to the safe. When she couldn’t provide that within his specified time period, Rutledge had locked the place down.”

Phoebe remembered hearing that piece of information on the broadcast she’d tuned into. They’d had the man’s photograph splashed onto the screen, somehow learning of his identity through an unknown source. She could just imagine the fallout from that, but that wasn’t the part of Lach’s story that held her captivated. It was his perception of what happened next that kept her glued to his recollection.

“I did everything by the book,” Lach stated, shaking his head in remorse. “By the time I knew the identity of Rutledge’s wife, it was too late to contain the situation. Information had leaked to the media and the entire attempted rescue turned into a three ring circus.”