The Betrayal (22 page)

“Cassie,” she murmured, remembering.

Declan nodded, his mouth grim. “Yes, Cassie.”

“Go on,” she urged quietly.

“Neither Tom nor I had a date. Tom’s wife, Lily, was sick at home with the flu. They live in Sydney and she didn’t want to make the trip down. Tom was reluctant to go without her, but she’d urged him to go along and show their support. I was single, footloose and fancy free.”

He threw her a wry look. “Long after Meg Harvey, I’d been seeing a lawyer. We’d been together a few years, but it didn’t work out. The breakup was pretty rough on me and finding a replacement girlfriend had been way down on my list of priorities.”

Chloe remained silent, even though a part of her was dying to know more. She bit her lip and waited for him to continue.

Declan scrubbed at his face with his hands, seemingly lost in his memories. His voice was deeper, hoarser when he began again.

“I was alone at the bar when your uncle approached me. I knew before he introduced himself who he was—hardly a week goes by that his face isn’t pictured in the news for one reason or another—but I’d never met him. I was drinking beer and he asked the bartender to refresh my drink. Then he introduced himself.”

Chloe shivered with unease and rubbed her palms up and down her arms. Declan grimaced.

“It’s not too late, Chloe. Say the word and I’ll stop. You’ll never hear another sound.”

A part of her jumped at the offer, wanting nothing more than to run screaming from the room with her hands jammed tightly against her ears. She drew in another breath and shook her head. “Go on.”

A spark of admiration lit up the depths of Declan’s eyes. He seemed to come to some decision and nodded.

“Your uncle asked me about myself, how old I was, how long I’d been with the AFP, whether I was married. I didn’t find his interest rude; in fact, I was kind of flattered. Although I’d been an officer for more than a decade under the New South Wales system, I’d never come to the notice of anyone at the top. And here I was, barely six months into my new career and the Minister for Home Affairs, the boss of bosses, was interested in me.”

Declan paced the length of the living room, his movements becoming more agitated. He drew in a deep breath and continued.

“We ordered another round of drinks and the banter remained friendly. I had my leg propped up on the rail that ran along the bar. Without warning, he moved closer and put his hand on my thigh and squeezed.”

Chloe gasped. Shock ricocheted through her, turning her rigid. Blood pumped hard in her veins. She strained to hear him over the roar in her ears.

“I jumped back like I’d been scalded. I had no idea he was gay. In some confused part of my brain, I could even remember thinking I’d heard about a wife and a child somewhere. I told him rather abruptly that I wasn’t gay and his advances weren’t welcome. He didn’t take it well. I could tell by the look on his face that I’d made a dangerous enemy.”

Chloe’s mind reeled with Declan’s revelations. With every fiber of her being, she wanted to scream at him that he was wrong. This was her
uncle
! Her father’s brother. A man who had always been there for her. A man who treated her like his very own daughter.

An angry denial instinctively forced its way into her mouth. She shook her head back and forth. Leaping up, she confronted Declan, her hands on her hips. “You must have misunderstood him.”

Declan stared at her, his eyes unfathomable. “No.”

Her heart pumped furiously. “He’s been married for forty years. He has a daughter. It can’t be right. You might have thought he was coming on to you, but did he actually
say
anything in that vein?”

“No, he didn’t
say
anything. He didn’t have to. It was obvious what he meant.”

She spun on her heel, still unwilling to accept the possibility her beloved uncle was living a double life. “Okay, okay, maybe he touched you—”

“
Maybe
?” His eyes narrowed dangerously. “What the hell are you implying? That I don’t know whether the man touched me or not? Are you for
real
?” A flush crept up his neck. Anger glittered in his eyes. Chloe took a deep breath and backed up a step.

“Okay, he touched you. I get it. But, there must be some mistake about his intention. Maybe it was accidental? Maybe he leaned over to pick up his drink and he accidentally brushed your leg?”

This time, there was no mistaking Declan’s ire. He strode toward her, coming to a halt inches from where she stood. The tension in his body emanated fury with every step.

“He
squeezed
my thigh, Chloe! With his fingers. He leaned toward me and
squeezed my thigh
. How you could even think that might be accidental is beyond me.”

Her thoughts whirled around inside her head. Panic dimmed her vision.

It couldn’t be true.
It couldn’t. There had to be some mistake. There
had
to. The alternative was inconceivable.

She had to get out of there.

The thought had barely registered when she whirled around. Finding her briefcase, she rifled inside for her keys and then strode toward the door.

“Chloe, we need to talk about this. We need to—”

The sound of blood pounding in her ears blocked out the rest of Declan’s plea. She made it to the door and flung it open. Stumbling into the corridor, she headed for the elevator.

She didn’t look back.

CHAPTER 19

Chloe cracked open her eyes and shielded them against the morning light that seeped through her open curtains. In her haste to get home and hide beneath her covers, wanting nothing more than a chance to block out the world and the recent shocking blows it had dealt her, she’d forgotten to draw them.

She glanced at the clock on her nightstand and groaned. If she didn’t get moving, she’d be late for work. The thought of fronting up to her office and to her boss filled her with dread. She’d tossed and turned and paced up and down her bedroom for most of the night. Declan’s words echoed in her head. Images of her uncle, her aunt, Stanford and Stoltenberg had chased each other in a kaleidoscope of frenzied color and motion. She’d done her best to block out the roaring in her ears.

But it hadn’t worked. She realized it was just as Declan had said. Now that it was out there, her life could never be the same again. The words couldn’t be taken back—and neither could their effect.

It wasn’t Declan’s fault. She’d begged him to tell her. She’d practically forced the words out of his mouth and now she had to live with the consequences. No matter how much she’d wanted to deny it, during the long, lonely hours before dawn, she’d come to accept that what Declan had told her about her uncle made an awful kind of sense.

She’d struggled with a motive for both Stanford and Stoltenberg, but Declan had presented her with one for her uncle that was as old as time.

That he’d set out to ruin a man’s life over a mere rejection seemed extraordinary, but then everything Chloe had learned over the past twenty-four hours had been extraordinary. Her uncle knew Eric, Charlie and Declan
and
he had a motive. The Minister was the common denominator. What Declan said was true and the reason was blindingly simple.

Declan had no reason to lie.

Until last night, he hadn’t even known that she suspected her uncle was involved. She and she alone had arrived at that conclusion and it had only been after she insisted on knowing about the details of his meeting with her uncle that he’d reluctantly told her about his introduction to the Minister.

If Declan had been using the encounter as a reason to cast suspicion onto her uncle, he would have made her aware of the possibility at the earliest opportunity, long before charges were laid. He wouldn’t have waited until he’d been arrested, charged and dragged before the courts, his life in chaos, before saying something. It was ludicrous to suggest otherwise. In all of the sordid, soiled mess, it was Declan who’d remained the only one untouched by dishonesty and deceit. He, alone, had maintained his integrity and self-respect.

A sudden thought occurred to her and she dashed out of bed and ran down the hall, searching for her briefcase. She found it on the couch. Tugging it open, she riffled through the papers until she found what she was looking for.

She pulled out Declan’s file and opened it. She flipped through the contents with fingers that shook. And then she found them: the images taken from the hard drives of Declan’s work computer and his laptop. They were labelled with the names of each taskforce investigation the images had originated from, none of which Declan had been involved in.

Five different investigations.

Acting on a hunch, she went into the kitchen and took her cell phone off the charger. Scrolling through her contacts, she dialed Gary Julian’s number. Despite the early hour, he picked up.

“Chloe, what can I do for you so early in the morning?”

“I’m sorry, Detective Superintendent, but I really need to talk to you.”

His voice sharpened. “What is it?”

“The images that were downloaded to Declan Munro’s work computer and his personal laptop were from five different investigations. I was wondering if you could tell me who was involved in each of the taskforces?”

“Sure. Tell me the name of the taskforces you’re interested in and I’ll look into it.”

Chloe provided him with the information he required. “I’d appreciate your earliest reply, Detective.”

“Of course. I’ll get straight back to you.”

Chloe ended the call, her heart thumping. If her suspicions were right, this could be the proof she needed. She sat back against her chair and sighed. Now all she had to do was wait…

In less time than she thought possible, Julian was back on the phone. “I’ve checked the staff records against each of those taskforces. There were several agents working them. A couple of those investigations happened quite awhile ago.”

“Were there any agents who worked on all of them?”

There was a moment of silence. Chloe held her breath even as her pulse picked up speed.

“Only one. Federal Agent Stanford.”

* * *

Chloe knocked on the door to Hammond’s office and waited for him to bid her to enter. Her legs were leaden; she was weighted to her very soul. She’d passed Webber on her way to Hammond’s office, but had brushed by her partner with barely a nod of acknowledgement. In ordinary circumstances, she’d have been grateful for his ear, but telling Hammond about her uncle, about everything, was going to be hard enough—she couldn’t bear the thought of having the same conversation twice. Webber would find out soon enough.

“Chloe, come in. What can I do for you?”

She drew in a deep breath and held it until it burned. She stepped inside Hammond’s office and took the seat opposite his desk.

Hammond frowned. “Is everything all right?”

She closed her eyes and bit her lip to hold back the tears that burned behind her eyelids. All through the dark, anxious hours before dawn, she’d managed to hold it together. She’d clung to her shock and to her anger and had forced any weaker emotion away. She hadn’t shed a tear, not a single one.

But here, in the harsh light of day and with the bulk of her anger depleted, she had to not only face the truth, but to put it into words. The thought of doing so now, both exhausted and terrified her.

At her continued silence, Hammond’s frown deepened. “Chloe…?”

“I think my uncle—no, I
know
my uncle, the Minister for Home Affairs, is responsible for framing Agent Munro.”

Her words tripped over themselves. Hammond stared at her in shock. “S-sorry, can you run that by me again?”

Chloe shook her head, her burst of courage nearly depleted. “You heard me.”

“I may have heard you, but I don’t understand. How…? Why?” He looked as bewildered and shell shocked as she’d felt last night. She drew in another deep breath and blew it out between her lips.

“I told you yesterday afternoon about Stoltenberg and Stanford. At the time, I was aware my uncle knew both of them. Stoltenberg works in the Minister’s Office and Stanford had told me he’d met my uncle on several occasions. My uncle had denied knowing Stanford, so whilst I was curious that Stanford’s story was in conflict with what my uncle had told me, I wasn’t immediately alarmed.” She paused and gathered the remnants of her courage for what was to come.

“What I didn’t know until last night was that my uncle also knew Agent Munro—another connection my uncle had denied.”

“How did you discover the link between the Minister and Munro?”

“I met with Agent Munro last night, at his apartment.” Chloe couldn’t help the blush that stole into her cheeks, even though she had done nothing wrong. She sneaked a look at her boss. His frown had deepened. She hastened to explain.

“I tried to call Agent Munro’s barrister yesterday afternoon, like we talked about, but he’d already left for the day. I decided Agent Munro deserved to know as soon as possible about the developments with his case.

“I phoned him and suggested we meet somewhere, but he advised me he’d had a little too much to drink and wasn’t able to drive. He suggested I meet him at his apartment.” She shrugged and held his gaze.

Hammond nodded, appearing to be satisfied. “What’s Agent Munro’s take on all of this? Does he believe your uncle’s behind it?”

Chloe briefly closed her eyes again and then opened them. “Yes. Once I told him about the Minister’s connection to both Stoltenberg and Stanford, he revealed he’d also encountered my uncle. He gave me reasons to believe that my uncle is the person responsible for framing him.”

Hammond’s gaze sharpened. “Such as?”

Chloe sighed, knowing there was nothing for it but to come completely clean. It had to happen sooner or later, anyway. She dreaded the thought of what would happen when the media got hold of it.

With another deep breath on board, over the course of several long minutes, she recounted the facts as she knew them, including filling him in on her recent discovery about Stanford’s links to all five of the CPU investigations. After she’d finished, she felt drained. The shock on Hammond’s face reflected the way she’d felt when she’d first been told. Hammond shook his head.