Chapter Ten
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“HEADS UP,” CONNOR said. He was peering through the blinds of the front window with his gun drawn. “You’ve got company.”
Shelby was still waiting for a call back from Lori Evers and they’d done a few laps around the living room. Connor had pushed the sofa out of the way and made an obstacle course with a couple chairs. He’d told her about Sabrina while she practiced walking and keeping her balance.
Her ankle was cranky from that morning with Colton, but it wasn’t swollen, so she ignored the ache and found it actually made her more focused.
Focus equals progress.
She pushed the walker ahead of her and made to look out the window too, but Connor held her back.
“It’s probably just my parents,” she said, praying they’d left Daniel behind. “Or Jaya, my best friend. They’re all worried about me being here with… Well, you know.”
“Yeah.” Connor shot her an I get it look. If anyone knew Colton’s effect on people, it was him. “Driver is in a black BMW with fancy wheels.”
“Oh.” She waved at his gun. “Put that thing away. It’s my boss.”
Connor gently set her back a foot. “Stay here. I’ll get the door.”
These men. So protective. All her life, her dad had been the same way. It usually rubbed her wrong, and like she’d told Colton, she was FBI and a damn good agent at that. She knew how to protect herself.
But right now, Colton was the one who was correct. She needed help, including protection, until they figured out who’d tried to stop her that night.
Connor didn’t open the door and let Theo in, he stepped through and closed it behind him. Shelby finagled her walker over and pressed her ear against it to listen to their conversation.
Theo introduced himself, Connor did not. Theo claimed to have brought a box of chocolates from Shelby’s team at the office. Connor told him he would see Shelby got them.
Oh, for all that’s righteous! Was he seriously not going to let the ASAC come inside the house?
A rumbling sound echoed from her left. She reached out and lifted one of the blind flaps and saw Colton’s truck wheeling into the drive. Shelby had to blink and do a double-take—Salisbury stood in Colton’s lap with his paws on the steering wheel.
Her eyes had to be playing tricks on her again.
Colton parked, the dog bounding out and heading for the porch. Colton followed, eyes narrowed at Theo.
Shelby opened the door—at least she tried to. Connor still had hold of the handle and it wouldn’t budge.
There was barking and Theo’s voice went up a notch as he told Colton to call off the dog. Shelby tried the door handle again, but it wouldn’t give. She heard Colton laughing, his amused voice telling Theo he never trusted a man who didn’t like dogs.
“Connor,” Shelby called through the door. “Let me out.”
The door suddenly flung open and Connor filled the doorway, a wrapped box under his arm and his gun still drawn. “Back up.”
She had no choice but to do as he said as he pushed himself inside. “What do you think you’re doing? I told you, that’s my boss. He may have a lead on the case.”
Ignoring her, he flipped one of the chairs from the obstacle course around and guided her into it. “Colton will handle it.”
She pushed herself to standing again. “Open the door.”
Connor handed her the wrapped box and gently shoved her back down into the chair. “Have a chocolate, Shelby.”
“Did you bring the file?” she heard Colton ask. Salisbury had stopped barking, but she could hear a muffled growling through the door.
“What file?” Theo.
Colton’s voice lost its amusement. “The one I asked you to bring.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Even inside, Shelby could feel the tension in the air between the two of them. Colton’s voice practically singed the ends of her hair. “I left you a message this morning to bring Shelby’s file.”
“The one on the veteran serial killer? That’s classified information and Shelby is not officially back to work.”
“Not the serial killer file. The one on Shelby’s shooting, you eejit.”
And yep, the tension went DEFCON 1, just like that.
“You better get out there, Connor,” Shelby said. “Things are about to get ugly.”
Poor guy. He glanced at the door, back to her, back to the door. “Shit,” he said under his breath as he went to interrupt World War III.
Shelby’s phone rang from the dining room table. Lori? She scooted herself up, grabbed the walker, and started hauling.
By the time she got to the dining room and snatched up the phone she was out of breath. “Mrs. Evers?”
A second too late, the call had already gone to voicemail.
But Lori Evers didn’t leave a message. Quickly, Shelby called her back. Lori answered on the first ring.
“Mrs. Evers, it’s Agent Claiborne. Sorry I missed your call. You got my message? About me reopening the case on your husband?”
The reply was chilly enough to coat the singed ends of Shelby’s hair with ice. “I told you the last time we spoke, I don’t know what happened to Wyatt. We separated before his last tour. I hadn’t heard from him in nearly two years, then suddenly, he was on my doorstep. I was so happy to see him, but he wouldn’t talk about where he’d been, what he’d been doing. He’d been discharged, that’s all he would tell me. He came home, seemed fine for a couple of weeks, then started acting anxious and worried. He disappeared and the next thing I knew, two officers showed up at my door to tell me they’d found his burned body.”
The woman sobbed, catching her breath. “I want the killer found as much as you do, but this tears me up. I’m trying to move on with my life. I can’t keep rehashing this when there’s nothing new. Please understand.”
A pit of regret sat in Shelby’s stomach. “Of course. Is there anything else I mentioned to you when we originally spoke that rang any bells?”
“I told you I don’t know what happened to Wyatt and I don’t know the man in the picture you showed me.”
From the living room, the sound of the door opening and closing alerted her to Colton and Connor coming inside.
“What man?”
“The one in the picture you showed me that day we spoke. You asked me if I’d ever seen him before and I told you no.”
A picture of one of the other victims? Or a suspect?
Salisbury ran in and Colton followed, his face grim.
“Can you describe the man in the picture to me, Mrs. Evers?”
Colton raised a brow and slid into a chair opposite Shelby.
Lori’s voice shook. “I can barely remember it. Like I told you, I’d never seen him before.”
“Please try.”
A sigh. “Brown hair, brown eyes. I think he was wearing a black shirt.”
Not much of a description. “Short hair? Long?”
“Kind of in between, you know how a lot of younger men wear it these days. Short on the sides and back, but longer and messy in front, I remember that.”
Shelby’s fingers on the phone went cold. Her stomach did a somersault. She was staring at exactly that description.
Colton made a motion for her to put the woman on speaker.
She didn’t. “Any distinguishing features on the man’s face, like a mole, a scar, facial hair?”
“Why are you asking me this? Don’t you have the picture?”
No, she didn’t, but she was about to go hunting for it. “Is there anything about that picture, about the man, that stuck out to you?”
“I told you, Agent Claiborne, I can’t help you. Find my husband’s killer. Then we can talk.”
The line went dead.
Colton was unwrapping the box of candy. He helped himself to a chocolate and tossed one to the dog.
“You shouldn’t give dogs chocolate.” Shelby tried not to stare at him. “It’s bad for them.”
“Seriously?” He reached down, snagged the dog, and through much growling, managed to remove the candy from Salisbury’s mouth. “Sorry, mutt. Apparently, you can’t have the good stuff.”
Colton’s brown eyes came up to meet hers. He was grinning, but his grin faded the moment he saw her face. “Shel, what is it? Was that Wyatt’s wife? Who were you asking her about?”
Shelby swallowed the fear nestling in her throat. “I think it’s you, Colton.”
“I NEED A list of my missions,” Colton said to Beatrice.
He was outside with Salisbury again, staring off at the wheat field. So many seasons here, so many times he’d seen wheat growing out there, big rolls of it during harvest.
Salisbury didn’t have to pee, Colton just needed a minute to himself. It wasn’t every day you were accused of murder.
And here he’d thought they’d cleared that up, and the only reason his profile sheet and picture were in Shelby’s file was because he was a source.
What a day.
“What missions exactly?”
“The dates and locations of all the missions I worked, both when I was in the service and during my time with SFI.”
He couldn’t believe he was saying this. Asking for verification of his alibis on the dates Evers, Edmonton, and Bard were killed.
Shelby hadn’t accused him of anything while they’d eaten lunch, or even hinted that this new info from Lori Evers pointed at him.
But it did. He could see her brilliant mind rejecting the idea, and yet, she would have to follow up on it. Any and every lead. Especially since she didn’t know why she’d taken a picture of him to show Lori Evers.
If it was him.
Goddamn Ingram could have easily cleared that up if he’d brought the fucking files and just shared everything. The guy hadn’t even picked up his voicemail.
“That’s classified information,” Beatrice said, bringing Colton back to the present.
“Have Rory get it.”
“I mean about SFI. Yes, Rory can get hold of classified military documents, but I’m not handing over information about your SFI missions to anyone.”
Really? He hadn’t expected pushback about that. “I need to prove to Shel—the FBI—that I have an alibi for several dates.”
“An alibi?”
For once, he’d caught Beatrice by surprise.
“Colton, what is going on?”
“You won’t believe this.” He didn’t himself. He forced a chuckle so she wouldn’t know how scared he was. “Or maybe you will. Anyway, the case Shelby was working when she was shot? The murders of those three veterans? This is just a formality, providing my whereabouts at the time of the murders.”
A pause. “And the list of your SEAL missions?”
The sun was directly overhead, shining in his eyes. “I want those for me. One of the dead men was a friend when I was at the Home. The other two I obviously met in the Navy. All three worked in various support positions on some of my SEAL missions. I need to see if there was a common link beyond that.”
“They were all part of Connor’s rescue mission. I thought that was the link.”
“It may be, but it may not. It could just be…me.”
He heard someone speak in the background and Beatrice covered the phone to say something. Then she was back. “Gathering that information will take time.”
“I’d really like to see the FBI file on Shelby’s shooting as well. Her boss doesn’t like to share.”
“Anything else while I’m playing Santa Claus? A new car? Beachfront property?”
Beatrice wasn’t one to joke. “I think I’m rubbing off on you, boss. The snark in your voice is a nice change.”
She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle. “So you want me to authorize Rory not only to hack into military databases, but also the FBI’s case files?”
“They should have done an extensive investigation, considering the victim was one of their own.”
“Why can’t Agent Claiborne get her hands on it?”
“The ASAC is playing his cards close to the vest. She’s still on medical leave so he has a reason. He was at the therapy center yesterday with the serial killer file wanting to question her about it, but on the flip side, when I asked him today to let her look at her own file, he pulled the medical leave card and how he doesn’t want to upset her. I can’t figure this guy out.”
A heavy sigh. How many times in his life had he heard one of those?
“I may have found a way to get copies of the autopsies,” Beatrice said. “I’ll get Rory on the Naval records and FBI files. Give me a few hours and I’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks, Beatrice. I mean it.”
“Watch your backside. We need you.”
The phone went dead.
We need you.
They didn’t really. There were men on the team who were far more competent—and likable. Men whom Beatrice trusted as much as she did her own husband.
And there was no one she trusted more than Cal.
The one solid Colton had with her was that he’d helped rescue her, Cal, and Sloane when Beatrice was giving birth.
Knight in shining armor. That’s me. Riding in at the last second to save the day.
Not.
He ran a hand through his hair. God, what he wouldn’t give for a cigarette right now.
Shelby had made him give them up before he’d even got a good addiction going.
Goddamn woman, always looking out for him, taking care of him.
Until Connor’s rescue.
He’d saved the day that time too. Saved Connor, captured Iman Quan, and thought he’d be a SEAL forever.
And then that pussy terrorist went kamikaze on him and Shelby. It had all happened so fast. He’d tried to save them all.
Shelby’s report to her superiors had sited ‘possible personal requital’.
Requital, what a stupid word. Vengeance, retribution…he liked those words better. Even revenge.
And yeah, he’d sure as hell considered taking revenge for Connor on Quan. No doubt about it.
But Shelby had gotten in his way.
She’d wanted to work counterterrorism since 9/11. Twelve years old and she’d known then that she wanted to hunt terrorists. He couldn’t blame her; he’d felt the same.
Jack and Martha had thought differently, continuing to force Shelby into the warped Southern belle role.
Colton had scoffed at the idea when she’d finally admitted to him that she’d been stalking the federal government—the FBI, CIA, and Homeland. During her high school years she’d contacted them all, asking for a job. There was no way those agencies cared about a teenage beauty queen with no experience doing undercover work for them.
And then Shelby had attended Oklahoma University and ended up on the path to Miss Okie. Before he knew it, she was acting strange. Quieter than usual. Unexplained meetings and absences.
He’d thought it was because they were apart so much with his missions overseas. When it all came out, he discovered his girlfriend was secretly gathering information on a homegrown terrorist group that was recruiting members on campus. Shelby had infiltrated them, uncovered an operation that employed college kids to run a cyber attack, and helped the Feds shut it down.
While never missing one class or runway appearance.
He’d been more than a little impressed.
Not that he’d ever been able to stop her from anything she set her mind to. Okie women were a breed apart. They could hogtie you and bake you a cake at the same time.
Salisbury came loping back and together they climbed the back stairs to the door. Connor waited just inside. “We good?”
“Yeah. Thanks for keeping Fed boy out earlier. Shelby still sleeping?”
They’d had a light lunch, Shelby filling Connor in on the serial killer investigation—which surprised Colton since she’d been so careful to keep it from Jaya. But that was Shel for you—you never knew how her mind worked when it came to some things.
Only, he did know. She was hoping, after her call to Lori Evers, that Connor could help clear Colton’s name if it came down to it. Therefore, Connor had to know the details.
“She’s awake and working on her therapy again,” Connor said, keeping his voice low and leaning against the paneled hallway wall. “She’s a beast. Sabrina’s flight will be in at three. Beatrice has a ‘friend’ with a pseudo lab Red can use to analyze that wrapper, and if we get our hands on any of the trace evidence from Shelby’s shooting, Red can analyze that as well.”
Connor called his girlfriend Red because of her hair. The nickname had caught on at the office, which irritated Sabrina since her Rock Star code name was 21 Pilots and she was darn proud of her ability to fly helicopters. The only person she didn’t mind calling her Red was Connor.
Beatrice had many contacts in the espionage world. Some more comfortable in the black market underworld than the legal side of things. “This friend of Beatrice’s nearby?”
“A few miles northeast of here. Runs a wind turbine farm and supposedly has a full, on-site lab. Red’s eager to get to work.”
“What are you two whispering about back there?” Shelby’s voice filtered to them.
Connor winked at Colton and dropped his voice another notch. “She’s got the hearing of a hawk.”
“I heard that,” she called.
Connor went to get a soda from the fridge. Colton found Shelby cruising around a chair in the center of the living room and doing a nice job of not catching the walker’s wheels on anything. Salisbury had made himself comfortable on said chair, enjoying a pet on the head every time Shelby made a lap.
“Nice job, speedy,” he teased, flopping down on the couch. “You’re better today.”
She blew air out her bottom lip, flipping the bangs off her forehead as she went for another lap. “I have cases to solve and you’re on a deadline. I need to make the most of our time together.”
“I told you, I’m not leaving until I catch the asshole who shot you.”
Shelby maneuvered over and dropped onto the sofa next to him. “What is this wrapper Connor mentioned? Why is your boss flying Sabrina here to run lab tests?”
Until he had something solid, there was no reason to get her hopes up. He reached for her feet and brought them to his lap. “Let’s talk about getting the file the FBI has on your shooting.”
Salisbury jumped up and landed on Shelby’s stomach, forcing an “oof,” out of her, but she didn’t make the dog get down. “You really think you can change the subject that easily? You used to have more finesse.”
Colton scratched the dog’s ears. “Guess I’m out of practice. Connor needed an excuse to get Sabrina here to meet you. Salisbury found a wrapper at the place across the street this morning. I told Beatrice it might be a clue but none of us have faith in the local PD to test it for prints, hence I needed Sabrina.”
She rearranged a pillow behind her head and sank into a more relaxed position, sighing as he rubbed the arch of her right foot. “That’s obviously only part of the story, but since your boss was so willing to send Connor here to deliver a security system, I won’t doubt it’s true. Plus, you’re massaging my feet and I don’t want to argue ’cuz you’ll stop. Later, you can tell me the truth or I’ll get it out of Connor. Either way, I’m happy I get to meet Sabrina.”
Colton continued rubbing her foot and gently working his way up her calf. She moaned softly as his thumb found a tight knot and he made little circles around it. “Is there anyone else at the Bureau who could get you a copy of the reports from your shooting? What about that Denbe guy?”
Her eyes closed and she let him move her leg up and down, bending the knee and manipulating her hip. “I have an idea on how to get it without raising suspicions, and also I want to see my file on the serial killer at the office. My notes here seem incomplete.”
Did she want to see if his picture was in the office file? He worked on her range of motion, continuing to massage out kinks and tight muscles in her leg. “How are we going to do that? Sweet talking your SOB of a boss didn’t work—I already tried that.”
“Sweet talking? Is that what you call it? He’s protecting the case; he can’t just let anyone look at the files. I would do the same if I were in his position.”
“He’s pretending to be protecting you. Says he doesn’t want to overtax you since you haven’t been officially released from your doctor’s care yet.”
“Why is that so hard to believe?”
“You’ve seen your share of violent crimes and terrorism and were in line to head your own counterterrorism taskforce before the shooting. While you’re not back at your desk yet, you’re perfectly cognizant and he needs you to solve the serial murder case, which he brought to you the other day to discuss, with no reservations then. He’s being evasive, not protective, and I think I know why.”
She opened one eye and glared at him. “Why?”
“He’s crushing on you big time and looking for any excuse to visit you daily, and he’s hiding something about your shooting.”
The second eye opened. “Why would he do that?”
Running his hands over her leg felt so good, so right. He didn’t want to blow it by riling her up, because she’d take her shapely legs away from him.
So he kept quiet on his theories about Ingram—which he couldn’t prove anyway—and went to work massaging her left foot. “That’s the question of the hour.”
She was quiet, her body wanting to relax into the massage while her brain fought to keep her alert. “The only way to know for sure is for us to get those files, look at the evidence reports and interviews, and see if we get a fresh perspective on any of it.”
“So what’s your plan?”
“It occurred to me this morning that I need to stop by the office and get something from my desk.”
Such a liar. “And what would that be? Cuz you know your boss is going to be aware of the real reason you’re making a trip to HQ.”
“It needs to be something personal. Something I would never ask Theo to bring to me.”
“Tampons?”
She smacked his arm. “Something silly to everyone else but important to me.”
“Can’t you say you lost your keys and thought you might have left them there?”
“Nah. He’d know you wouldn’t bring me to the office to look for keys. What do I need those for anyway right now? It’s not like I can drive.”
“How about your good luck charm?”
She scrunched up a face. “I don’t have one.”
“He doesn’t know that.”
“I’ve got it.” She snapped her fingers and sat up. “I know exactly what to use as the ploy.”
She swung her legs off his lap and set Salisbury on the rug. “Come on. We’ve got a file to sneak out of the FBI.”