Pitch Black Page 22

  “Okay.” Brandon tapped his fingers on his desk. In the brief time they’d worked together, Alec had noticed the guy couldn’t remain still, a picture of frenetic energy. As if his body had to stay in motion to keep up with his constantly moving mind. “So forget my concern that he might have actually gotten into your apartment.”

  Sam flinched as if struck. “What?”

  “No, seriously, forget it. It was a passing concern, when I thought your password was totally random.”

  “Jesus, Cole,” Alec muttered, seeing the way Sam’s face had completely lost its color.

  “Master of tact,” Lily added. She had just returned, holding a steaming cup of coffee, which she placed on the desk close to Sam. “Ignore him.”

  “Sorry,” Brandon said. “Gimme a sec to check something.” He swung back around, attacking his keyboard with a vengeance, muttering something under his breath.

  Lily took a seat at her own desk. “I’ve got satellite images from last night. Too many vehicles on Sam’s street at the time you took her home,” she said, sounding disappointed. “And nothing within two blocks of the construction site. He probably intentionally parked in another area, since a vehicle would have stood out there.”

  “Red-light cams between the crime scene and Sam’s?”

  “Already working on them.” As if suddenly remembering, she added, “Oh, and I heard back from Flynt through his attorney.”

  He glanced over at Sam, who didn’t appear to be paying attention to anything except the images flying across Brandon Cole’s monitor.

  “And?”

  “His client would be happy to talk to you. If Ms. Dalton accompanies you.”

  “Damn.”

  “Told you.” The softly spoken comment came from an obviously listening Sam.

  Lily wasn’t finished. “He also has a time restriction. This weekend or never.”

  “Arrogant bastard.”

  “You’ve no idea.” Another interjection from Sam.

  Alec gave her his full attention. “Do you honestly think it’s worth talking to this guy?”

  She thought about it, not snapping off a casual reply. Sam was in this up to her neck now; she knew they had no time to waste. Every minute they didn’t catch the unsub was another one she had to spend in fear and in hiding.

  Finally, she nodded. “I do. I’m no expert, but I really think he is just a less violent version of your Professor. If you want to think like your suspect thinks, Flynt’s is a good mind to explore.” She offered him a weak smile. “Besides, it’s not like you can just dump me at home now, anyway. If you have to keep an eye on me for my own protection, what could be safer than doing it at a prison filled with armed guards and security?”

  “She has a point,” Lily said. “In case you’re wondering, when Wyatt called to see if you were back yet, he said to tell you to go with your instincts if you think it is worth pursuing.”

  Great. All obstacles cleared. There really was no legitimate reason for him not to bring Sam with him to interview Flynt. Nothing except his own reluctance.

  “Do you need to go today?” Brandon asked, looking over his shoulder. “I’m trying to track any failed password tries on the account, figure out where he posted from. I might need some input from Sam.”

  “I need to get back up to Baltimore this afternoon, anyway,” he said. “Maybe talk to Flynt tomorrow.”

  Sam sipped her coffee, then said, “My day’s pretty wide-open.”

  “Why do you want to do this?” He had no idea what she was up to—why she wanted to remain involved with something she’d admitted scared her spitless.

  Alec had at first assumed she needed to feel as if she had some control over what happened in her life, like anyone who’d had a brush with a violent crime would. Since this morning’s developments, though, she hadn’t just brushed up against the world of a psychopath; it had turned and aimed directly at her. He’d figure any smart person would be lying low until the threat was eliminated.

  “What else am I supposed to do?” she asked with a simple shrug. “Sit at home and worry some more? That hasn’t gotten me very far.”

  They were talking about more than a visit to the prison; he knew that much.

  “I need to start taking an active role in my life again, instead of merely reacting to what goes on around me,” she added. “Not just with this case, but with everything.”

  Meaning them. She’d certainly been active last night, laying out what she’d wanted. Though the sexual invitation had been wrapped in innuendo, it had also been pretty damned clear.

  “Can you understand that? The need to act, to move on, get past the fear and insecurity?”

  Oh, hell, yeah, he could understand that. It was exactly what he’d been trying to do since the minute he’d come back to work: Regain his footing, his confidence in his own intuition. He needed to stop seeing the mental pictures of Ferguson taking a bullet to his heart, to stop feeling the slow, steady pump of his own heart pushing the blood out of his body, to stop hearing the blasts—pop-pop-pop-pop—and to stop wondering if he was ever going to be able to trust his instincts again.

  “I understand.”

  He meant it. But he still didn’t like it.

  The woman who had started out as a one-shot interview had practically become his pseudo-partner. Not to mention the target of a serial killer. Could things possibly have gotten any more fucked-up from the day he’d walked through the Black CATs’ doors?

  “You should know, Jimmy will say he’s cooperating, but he’ll talk in circles,” Sam said.

  “It’s okay. Alec has a built-in bullshit detector, from what I hear.” Lily printed off the directions to the prison, which was situated between D.C. and Baltimore, and handed it to him.

  “Guess it’s that profiler thing,” Sam murmured.

  He wondered if Lily heard the same undeniable note of warmth in their witness’s voice, or if it was audible only to Alec, like the knowing, confident whisper of a lover. Which they both knew they were going to be, sooner or later.

  Alec abruptly stood. Sam was in good hands; she was relaxed and calm. And most of all, safe. She didn’t need him here. “I want to get going. Sam, would you allow us to search your apartment, on the off chance this son of a bitch is watching you even closer than we suspect?”

  “Are we talking hidden-camera stuff?”

  His jaw tight, he nodded once.

  She reached into her purse and dug out a key ring. “Do you think . . . Could you maybe ask Agent Stokes to grab me something to wear?”

  “Want me to tell her to pack your all-men-suck nightshirt?”

  She chuckled. “Nah. I’m beginning to think maybe they don’t. Not all of them, anyway.”

  There went that soft, intimate tone again. And this time, judging by the quick look of surprise on her face, Lily had noticed.

  If she read anything into their light banter, Lily had the discretion not to mention it. “We’ll take good care of her.” She glanced at Sam. “I’ve already booked a suite at a local hotel. Jackie will take you over this evening, and I’ll come and relieve her at ten or eleven, so she can kiss her kids good night.”

  “Oh, okay.” Sam nibbled her bottom lip, as if not exactly thrilled with the arrangement. As if she thought someone else would be her babysitter.

  Huh. If she thought Alec was going to stay with her, she needed to rethink, and fast. He was good at his job and knew how to do it, but talk about putting the fox in charge of the henhouse. No way would he be able to spend a night alone in a hotel room with her without letting things get a whole lot more personal than either one of them could afford right now.

  Next week? Maybe.

  After this case was over? Definitely.

  But not now. Not while the Professor was still out there.

  Not while he had Sam Dalton in his sights.

  Chapter 12

  Under normal circumstances, Lily would never have minded stepping in to help Jackie out because one of her
kids was sick. She hadn’t met them yet, but her coworker’s son and daughter looked adorable in the pictures on her desk, and she obviously loved them deeply.

  Unfortunately, tonight wasn’t normal. As Lily escorted their witness, Samantha Dalton, to the downtown hotel where they intended to keep her under protection, she mentally scrambled to figure out what to do.

  She’d told Anspaugh she would be available this evening to continue posing as Tiger Lily. She had started the charade last night, in a chat room on the site their suspected pedophile had frequented before. Having no luck, she had left a chatty post on a message board. And this morning, Peter Pan responded to it.

  God, he responded. This could really work.

  Anspaugh and his team were salivating, smelling the end of the chase. They wanted her online again tonight to lure their prey farther into the trap, and they had to be so cautious. No way could she chat from a hotel with an easily identifiable Web connection; she had to use the proxy server that had been set up for this undercover operation.

  That would have been just fine had Jackie been able to take the first shift with their witness. But she hadn’t. Now Lily was stuck needing to do two things at once.

  It’s your own fault for not just going to Wyatt about this.

  If she’d been more forthcoming with her boss, they could have dealt with the conflict. Of course, if she’d been more forthcoming with her boss, he might have asked her what she thought she was doing getting caught up in somebody else’s case when she had her own to work on.

  Okay. So get out. Tell Anspaugh you can’t do it.

  Maybe it was time to let go of the need to catch Lovesprettyboys. Time to let the crimes-against-children specialists do what they did and focus strictly on the job she’d been so grateful to get with Wyatt and his team.

  More, maybe it was time to let go, period. Her sanity, not to mention her dreams, would probably be better off if she did what everyone from Wyatt to her therapist and grief counselors said she should do—got on with her life. Catching Lovesprettyboys wouldn’t change what had happened. He was just the substitute, another monster to take down, since the one who’d destroyed her family was already safely locked up. There would always be another one out there; she couldn’t catch them all.

  But God, how she wanted to catch this one.

  “Is everything all right, Agent Fletcher?”

  Lily realized her concern must have been showing on her face, because Samantha Dalton was watching her closely, concern visible in the line between her eyes.

  “Oh, yeah, fine. Nothing to worry about. And please call me Lily.”

  Pulling her lips up at the corners in what would hopefully pass for a smile, Lily led the woman to their room, swept it, then beckoned her inside. As far as safe houses went, it wasn’t bad. Not five-star, not on Uncle Sam’s dime, but it was clean and modern. Two rooms, one with a bed, the other with a sleeper sofa, plus a small kitchenette. A decent home away from home until they could get their witness out of the danger they had so unwittingly put her into.

  Now Lily just needed to get herself out of the mess she’d unwittingly put herself into.

  Brandon would come and stay with Sam Dalton if she asked him; she knew that. But she hated to drag him deeper into her situation. Dean, Kyle, and Alec were all still in Baltimore. Jackie was unavailable, and there was no way she could ask her boss.

  She couldn’t bring in an outside agent because she didn’t think one would come. Sometimes, it didn’t pay to be part of a team so on the outs with the rest of the bureau. At other times, it was great, incredibly freeing.

  Tonight was not one of the great times.

  She needed to talk to Wyatt. No more of this off-hour maneuvering between jobs. Lily wasn’t doing anything wrong; in fact, some would say she was going above and beyond. She doubted, however, that Wyatt would see it that way. Especially not since he’d warned her not to let herself get caught up in something because of her own history.

  “I guess there are worse places to be imprisoned,” Sam mused.

  “Would you like me to order some dinner?” They had stayed in the office all day and hadn’t stopped for a bite en route to the hotel. “I can order in.”

  “I’m fine, thanks.” The other woman walked to the window and peered out at the city, spread far below them. The dome of the Capitol was visible in the distance, and she stared at it for several moments. “Since Agent Stokes can’t come tonight, will someone else be bringing some clothes for me?”

  “Yes,” Lily said, her hopes quickly rising. She’d almost forgotten that. This might work out after all. If one of the other agents showed up with clothes and toiletries, Lily could ask him to cover and slip away for an hour or two.

  As long as they show up on time. For all she knew, they could be pulling an all-nighter.

  “Did she have to leave before Alec—um, Agent Lambert—got back there with my keys? I mean, was she there to gather my things?”

  Hearing a hint of embarrassment, Lily reassured her. “They’re all good guys, Sam. I can promise you none of them went through your underwear drawer.”

  The other woman looked away, not meeting her eye. Her hands fisted on the windowsill. “You don’t know that about Agent Lambert yet, do you? Isn’t he pretty new to your team?”

  Lily nodded slowly, hearing the frank curiosity. She had the strange suspicion, as she had earlier at the office, that their witness was personally interested in the newest member of the Black CATs. “He just started this week.”

  “But he’s doing a good job.”

  “A very good job,” Lily admitted. “Nobody was quite sure how it would work out, but I think it’s going to be great. We’re lucky to have him.”

  She didn’t know Alec very well yet, though she suspected she was going to like him. Still, there were a lot of stories about the agent. Stories about him getting too close to a female witness, and another agent getting killed because of it.

  She had no business warning Sam off—though she wouldn’t hesitate to say something to Alec if she thought it needed to be said. Still, something made her murmur, “Agent Lambert’s a very handsome man.”

  Sam’s head jerked.

  Lily hid a sigh, knowing her intuition had been right. “Look, Sam . . .”

  The other woman put her hand up to stop her. “You don’t have to say it. I am well aware that I’m a witness and he’s an agent, and there’s no way he’s going to let down his guard around me and get himself shot again.”

  Lily gawked. It sounded as though Sam knew a lot more about Alec than even his coworkers.

  Sam’s eyes were wide, as if she feared she’d revealed a secret. “You . . . Everyone knew he had been shot, right?”

  “Well, yes. I’m just surprised you do.”

  “We talked.”

  That was obvious. “So, he told you about the shooting? That, uh . . .”

  “That a woman shot him? Yes, he did. And I felt about two inches tall for being so judgmental about it at first, until I found out she was the elderly mother of a suspect and he felt sorry for her.”

  Lily remained very still. This was more than even she knew. Not that she couldn’t have found out, if she had chosen to dig around in her new colleague’s past. She hadn’t, not wanting to be nosy. But she couldn’t deny an interest.

  “This transfer to your team, it was kind of a new start for him, right? A chance to rebuild his career?”

  Lily rolled her eyes. “More like a chance to bury it.”

  Sam left the window and sat on the couch, eyeing her quizzically. “What do you mean?”

  Taking the seat opposite her, Lily admitted, “They call us the Black CATs. But what they really mean is the black sheep.”

  “You’re kidding. You guys are all so good.”

  “We all have baggage.”

  “Baggage,” Sam snapped. “I hate that word. What does it mean, anyway?”

  “Okay, then, let’s say we all have reputations.”

  �
��Even your boss?”

  Lily curled one leg under her and made herself more comfortable in the chair. “Him more than anyone. Wyatt has a lot of integrity, and he sees things very black or white, right or wrong.”

  Which made it even harder to tell him how far she’d gone into shades of gray regarding her job.

  “He took a stand against a few things,” she said, not going into detail. “That earned him the enmity of some of our colleagues.”

  Not pressing for more information, as if knowing Lily couldn’t provide it, Sam moved on. “And the rest of you?”

  “Dean Taggert’s a badass former street cop with a temper.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  “Jackie has an attitude.”

  Sam grinned. “Also not a surprise.”

  “Mulrooney is a bit of a blowhard. Brandon’s a wild card.”

  “And Alec?”

  “The circumstances surrounding his shooting were . . . less than ideal.”

  Sam rolled her eyes. “Especially for him. Getting shot and all.”

  The woman was absolutely right, and Lily agreed with her. There was simply no way to explain bureau politics, that Alec’s survival might have been viewed with skepticism because the other agent had not survived. It wasn’t fair, especially now that she knew more about what had really happened. No more than what had happened to Wyatt was fair. It was just the way things went in an agency made powerful by J. Edgar Hoover, the king of intrigue himself.

  “What about you? What’s your story?”

  Lily wrapped her arms around one upraised leg, staring down at her own knee. “I’m a little too emotional.”

  “Considering I’ve felt like screaming, crying, or punching someone since just about the minute you guys showed up in my life, I can see where that would be a problem.”

  Unable to resist Sam’s sarcasm, Lily had to smile. She seldom spent time with anyone outside of the office these days, and had forgotten, since Laura’s death, how much she enjoyed simply hanging out and talking with another woman. As much as she liked Jackie Stokes, the other agent was older, and in a different place. Lily honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone for a girls’ night out, or indulged in a man-griping session with a single woman her own age.