Exposed (22 page)

“Jeez, old man. You nearly gave us heart attacks.”

Deep chuckling was the only reply.

“He did that on purpose.”

Sydney giggled at Frank’s grumpy grumbling, as she pulled her top back on. Then she froze, embarrassing heat flushing her body. She glanced from side to side. “You don’t suppose he has a hidden camera in here, do you?”

Frank lifted that one brow again. “Wouldn’t put it past him.”

Groaning, she leaned forward until her forehead lay against his shoulder. “Maybe I can just stay down here in the dark.”

He wrapped both arms around her. “Nope. I made you a promise. No more secrets. If he’s found something for me to see, then you’re seeing it, too.” He slipped one finger under her chin, forcing her to lift her head and meet his gaze. “Besides, unless he’s using infrared cameras, I doubt he saw much.”

With another slow kiss, he eased her from the counter to stand in front of him.

“Might as well see what he has. Can’t make pictures off these negatives until they’re dry anyways,” she said as they exited the darkroom.

“I’ll be curious to see what’s on them,” he said, waiting for her to start up the steps in front of him.

A shiver of dread went through her. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Whatever Ian was up to, it had to be bad.

* * * * *

“What have you got, Doyle?” Frank asked, as they entered the retired policeman’s command center again.

“Got a copy of the final arson report,” Doyle said, pointing to a record already up on the screen. “Looks mighty interesting.”

“I’m not going to ask how you got this,” he said.

“I know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy over at the Division of Fire.”

Doyle acted as if it was an everyday occurrence for a civilian to get his hands on government documents. Frank was going to have to ask Jake if the older man worked for the CIA at one time, because he had secret spy stuff down to a nonchalant science.

Sydney pulled up one of the rolling chairs. Frank grabbed a straight back chair from the corner and straddled it between her and Doyle.

“It says they identified two points of origin for the fire,” Sydney said, reading from the report. “Why would there be two?”

“My best guess, they started the first fire in the front of the house. Wasn’t that where you said your computer was?”

“Yes. The monitor was on my desk and faced out onto the street. I liked watching people and cars go by as I worked.” She tilted her head slightly to the side, her delicate brows drawn down in consternation. “If my computer was the real target, why start the fire in the back of the house, then?”

“Whoever started them believed a fire in the darkroom would look like an accident because of the chemicals you kept available.”

“But the chemicals aren’t flammable. I told the firemen that.”

“A professional photographer like you would know that. Not the average person.”

“Or apparently the average arsonist,” she muttered.

His lip twitched at her sarcasm. Despite everything that was happening to her, Syd was still a fighter. He liked that about her.

“So why the bomb?” she asked.

“Whatever they thought was on that computer was important enough for them to want it completely destroyed.” Doyle highlighted part of the report. “It says here that C4 residue covered the fragments of the computer, which suggests it was the main target.”

“Which begs the question, what did Ian put on my computer? Who did he tell? Or if he sent it to someone, how did they figure out it was my computer?” Sydney asked, irritation edging her voice.

Doyle leaned sideways in his chair, extending his left leg and rubbing his hip, the one that made him limp. “My best guess is they followed the IP address on whatever was sent.”

“Can we retrace the path to see who might’ve done that?” Her gaze shifted from Doyle to him and back again.

“That’s a hacking skill way above mine.” His eyes met Frank’s. “There is someone who has the skills.”

Slowly, Frank shook his head. “He’s occupied. She’d kill us for even asking.”

“To help a friend? I think you’re selling her short. She’s an Edgars, after all.”

“Who?” Sydney asked. “If there’s someone you know who can help us find whoever is out to kill me and my brother, not to mention you just for helping me, we have to ask them.”

“It’s their honeymoon.”

Realization showed in Syd’s eyes. “Luke and Abby? No, you’re right. We can’t interrupt them. Not even for this. What if we find the actual email that was sent?” Sydney asked, turning to Doyle. “Could you use it to find whoever is behind this without bothering Luke and Abby on their honeymoon?”

“How are you going to do that? Your computer was blown into pieces,” he said. “The report says there’s nothing left of the hard drive to even attempt a reconstruction, much less retrieve information from it.”

She smiled. “I don’t need the hard drive.”

Frank caught on. “Yes! Because your computer automatically uploaded files to a cloud—”

“Including any emails I sent or received.” She grinned at the perplexed Doyle. “I travel so much for work all over the world, that I joined a company that provided a backup system for my work so I could access it anywhere. Even here in your command center.”

“So, if your brother did email someone and that put this whole mess in motion,” Doyle said, clicking away on his computer keyboard, “you should be able to see who and what he sent.”

“What are you doing? I can just type in the URL and codes to access my account.”

He paused, fingers still on the keyboard and fixed her with a serious eye. “Right now, you’re safe here because whoever has been trying to hurt you doesn’t know you’re here. I’m going to hack into a few satellites, a couple of foreign internet sites and then send the signal into a spot I have with another computer. Nothing connected to here.”

“You can do that?” Sydney’s eyes were so huge with amazement in them, Castello laughed.

Frank nodded. “He can do that.”

“Been studying with the kid,” Doyle said, again typing away.

“The kid?” Sydney asked Frank.

“Luke. It’s the nickname his older brothers gave him and it stuck.”

“Luke knows how to do all of that because he’s a government agent?”

Frank laughed. “He’s a government agent because he could do those things before he graduated high school. Now he uses it for tracking down terrorists for Homeland.”

“And teaching old men how to use the internet to find local scum, too,” Doyle said, focused once more on the keyboard. “Give me a few minutes for all the sites to connect, then I’ll be ready to get your account information.” He reached for the coffee mug beside him. “Damn. Didn’t realize I’d emptied it.”

“I’ll get you a refill,” Frank said, holding out his hand. “I could use some, too.”

Doyle handed him the mug. “Thanks. I take mine black.”

“Naturally.” He grinned as he left the room. Almost every law enforcement man who’d done any stakeouts took their coffee black.

As he stood at the coffee maker, measuring scoops of coffee for a full pot a few minutes later, he heard soft footsteps behind him. “Pop’s in the fridge. Doyle keeps the diet stuff for Sami.”

The fridge opened and closed. The metal tab on the can snapped open. Silence. Then a satisfying, “Ah.”

Pouring water into the coffee maker, he lifted the corner of his mouth. He liked how she didn’t need to fill every second with endless chatter. Her movements were precise, even when she was wielding her camera. About the only time he’d seen her discombobulated was climbing out of the taxi at the wedding and when her home exploded.

Right now, he knew she was watching him, her brain formulating the right question to ask. No small talk. Not for Syd.

“Whoever is behind this must have some powerful connections,” she finally said. “They traced my computer IP account to my home. They sent someone to not only destroy my computer and whatever incriminating evidence was on it, but to make it look like an accident.”

Slowly, he turned, and leaned back against the counter. “It would appear that way.”

“Given the amount of money Ian owes his bookie, you think he emailed photos to someone to blackmail them for money, don’t you?” she asked, a bleakness in her eyes.

Damn, he hated her brother. To have someone love you so much and stomp all over them? If Sydney wasn’t in danger, he’d let the guy get what he deserved.

“Scenario fits.”

She shook her head, the tendrils of blonde hair that had escaped her ponytail bouncing with the effort. “I’d hoped he’d finally gotten himself together, knowing that I had nothing to give him. But he took everything from me, trying to solve his own problem.” She took another drink of her pop. “It’s such a shame. He wasn’t this selfish before Dad died. I guess losing him was just too much for my brother.”

“Don’t,” Frank said, pushing himself from the counter and closing the space between them in a few steps. He grabbed her by the elbows, forcing her to look up at him. “Don’t make excuses for him. This doesn’t have a damn thing to do with your father’s death. It has to do with a desperate man who doesn’t care who he hurts. Plain and simple.”

“You don’t know that. Trauma like that can makes people self-centered, interested in protecting themselves from further hurt. It leaves them scarred.”

“Bullshit.”

Fire lit her purple eyes. “And what makes you an expert on how people deal with loss?”

“You,” he said, softening his grip on her.

She blinked, some of her ire easing with her surprise. “Me?”

“You lost your father, too. Yet, you’ve managed to build a successful career, owned your own home, made friends like Abby and Jontae. I wouldn’t say the loss scarred you.”

She laid one hand on his chest. “It made me afraid.”

What was she talking about? The woman had more backbone than most anyone he’d ever known.

“Afraid of what?”

A long moment passed as she stared into his eyes, almost as if trying to see into his soul. “Of being left behind.”

He started to pull her closer. Then his phone buzzed in his hip pocket.

“Dammit.” He released his hold on her and pulled the phone out to see who the caller was.

His boss.

Shit.

“I have to take this,” he said, willing her to understand that he’d much rather hold her and that he wasn’t planning on leaving her.

“It’s okay. I think I’ll go down and develop those pictures anyway.”

She took the pop and headed from the room.

Swallowing the urge to curse, he hit the answer button on his phone.

“Yes, sir?”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The door opened, letting grey light into the dark bar.

A short, bearded man with a beat-up denim jacket and trucker’s cap entered and took one of the empty barstools nearest the door.

Ian let out the breath he’d been holding. Staring over the rim of his beer mug, he focused on the entrance across the room from his booth against the wall. It was closest to the back entrance, in case he needed a hasty exit. He doubted anyone other than Bobby Two-toes was really looking for him. Certainly not the congressman’s goons. Obviously, the congressman had sent someone after the person who sent him the email by following the IP address on the image and email he’d sent. It wasn’t
his
fault they’d assumed it was Sydney. Though he couldn’t help being glad they had. As long as they were on her trail, he was safely in the shadows.

No, he’d learned to be cautious in new surroundings during his years of working news stories in some of the most dangerous places and the dark corners of cities all around the world. Columbus was no exception. A simple drink in a dive could end up in a bar fight gone bad in a heartbeat.

He’d spent two hours in the library branch, rerouting his second email. This one containing a second image of the girl in the rug. The message also told the congressman he’d need five hundred thousand dollars to get the flash drive with the images. If he didn’t comply, he was going to send both images, along with others, connecting the congressman and the murdered intern to every news agency in the country.

Drinking the last of his beer, he signaled the lone cocktail waitress for another.

The extra night was on purpose. Not because he thought the politician needed the time to get the money transferred. No, he knew the congressman would send his hit team out to the spot where they’d dumped the girl’s body and move it.

Ian chuckled as he took the new mug from the woman who’d seen better days.

It really was too funny. All they’d find was an empty spot where they’d left the girl. Only he knew where she was now.

* * * * *

“You want to tell me why the Chief of Detectives of the Columbus Police Department is looking for you?” Dan Robertson practically growled into Castello’s ear.

Shit.

“Because I was one of the last people their detective spoke to yesterday.” Frank kept his voice as neutral and non-threatening or sarcastic as possible.
Don’t tease a wounded animal
. Another one of his grandfather’s sayings he’d taken to heart.

“Why would that be? All your cases are being handled here, and you’re still on freaking sick leave. At least, you’re supposed to be.” A silent pause. “Unless of course, you went against orders and are helping another agency on an undercover assignment in your spare time.”

All-too-aware of their last conversation that unsanctioned operations with other law enforcement teams, aka the Edgars, could put his job in jeopardy, Frank rubbed the back of his neck. What he said next would affect his career.

“I’m not working with any other agency, sir.” Best to keep it professional, until his boss’ ire cooled a bit. “A friend of mine’s house was torched two nights ago.”

“The explosion down in the Italian Village area?”

“Yes. She was with me, and we spoke to the detective about the case.”

“Any idea why the detective ended up dead in his car trunk up in Westerville?”

“Because someone is trying to kill my friend.”

“Dammit, Castello. Getting information from you is like pulling hens’ teeth.”