Chapter Three

Dale Fuller pulled his tie off and tossed it over a chair. He’d spent the majority of the day listening to old men bitch and whine. Unfortunately, the same old men were among the biggest contributors to his first campaign—and he needed them, or at least their money and influence, for his upcoming one. After turning the air conditioner down a few more degrees, he entered his bedroom and went straight to the framed picture hanging near the bed. If anyone else entered the room, they might admire it for a moment or two, but then they’d turn their attention to the fabulous view of the city the windows provided—exactly as he’d intended when he’d bought the condo and then had it redecorated.

He pushed the black-and-white picture aside, revealing the wall safe hidden behind it, and punched in the code. After removing the three burner phones from inside, he closed the safe and slid the picture back into place.

Dale first switched on the phone he’d been using to communicate with Rick, the private investigator he’d hired. Rick had been searching for a little over a week and still hadn’t turned up anything. He didn’t expect to get a different answer this afternoon either, but he’d call and check. When Rick again delivered nothing, Dale would fire him and fall back on plan B.

“Any updates?” he asked when Rick answered the phone.

“Afraid not, Congressman Fuller. She hasn’t been on social media, and we haven’t been able to track her cell. We tried watching the laboratory, but security outside threatened to call the cops if we didn’t leave.”

He could’ve told Rick that would happen if they lingered too long outside Lafayette Laboratory. Security there was tight. Even the employee parking lot required a special access card to enter, never mind the main entrance to the building.

“Like we discussed, I tried following her sister this week, hoping she’d meet up with your ex. Nothing,” Rick continued. “One of my associates tried watching her house, but there have been no signs of your ex there either. We did get a picture of a man who visited the sister over the weekend. If you want us to find out who he is, we can.”

Becca André was Kassidy’s stepsister, not her sister, but correcting Rick was a moot point. And he didn’t care who Becca spent her free time with unless it was Kassidy Buchanan.

“Do you want me to keep looking?” Rick asked.

Wouldn’t you love it if I said yes? The private investigator wasn’t cheap, especially considering he hadn’t uncovered even a hint of where Kassidy was. “No. I think it’s time I accept she and my money are long gone and move on.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t find her,” Rick said, clear disappointment in his voice. Rick and his associates were well known for being both discreet and successful. Of course, most of the time they were following cheating spouses or snapping pictures of people trying to fake life-altering injuries for big paydays. They weren’t trying to track down individuals who didn’t want to be located.

“Me too.” Just not for the reasons you think.

Dale ended the call and pulled the battery from the cheap disposable phone. After removing the SIM card, he snapped the device in half and returned everything to the safe. Later he would dispose of the individual pieces at various places, but for now, the safe would be a good place to store them.

Reaching for the second one, he pressed the power button. The last messages he’d received from Kassidy had come almost three weeks ago. At the time, she’d promised she’d be in contact again soon, but she hadn’t called or messaged him since. Considering the timetable they were working with, he’d expected another message two weeks ago, which was why he’d hired Rick when Kassidy remained dark.

He didn’t expect to have any messages tonight, either. But before he gave Zane the go-ahead, he’d check because he considered using the guy a last resort.

Tonight, like the last dozen times he powered on the phone, there were no texts or voice messages waiting for him. “Damn it, Kassidy. Where the hell are you?” He switched off the device and tossed it back into the safe too.

Grabbing the last burner phone, he dropped his personal cell phone on the nightstand, left his condo, and headed for a popular coffee shop several blocks away. Using a burner phone meant the authorities wouldn’t be able to trace a specific phone number back to him. That was why he always used disposable devices for contacting the private investigator and Kassidy. While he’d rather there not be any record of his calls to Rick or Kassidy, he knew the police wouldn’t be looking into the calls they received and then searching for where the calls originated, so calling them from his condo was safe. There was no guarantee where Zane was concerned.

If the police went after Zane again for any one of his criminal activities, they’d search everything from the thug’s bank accounts to his phone records. From there it would be easy for them to determine what numbers had called Zane and then approximate where the phone had been at the time of the call or text message. Dale didn’t want them tracing the location back to his condo. In the past, he could’ve said it was a simple conversation between attorney and client. He had been the lead defense attorney during Zane’s last trial. However, as a congressman, he was no longer practicing law, so the excuse wouldn’t hold up and the police would dig further. If that happened, there was plenty they might uncover, ending not only his time in Congress but also his life as a free man.

With a large coffee in hand, Dale sat and called his former client.

Zane answered on the third ring.

“It’s Fuller.”

“Expected to hear from you sooner,” Zane said in his all-too-familiar gravelly voice, the one that said the guy smoked at least two packs a day and had been for a long time.

“Start with the house. I want every computer device in it. You know where to deliver the stuff.” Dale sipped his coffee and watched an attractive redhead wearing a super short skirt and a halter top walk past his table toward the counter. “If I don’t find what I need on them, we’ll proceed as we discussed. You’ll have free rein to do whatever you need. But remember, only if I don’t get the information I need.”

“Anything?” Zane asked.

When people reached a certain point of desperation, they did what they had to. He’d reached his. “Anything. I want both. However, if I can only have one, bring me the information and do what you want with the other.”

In the long run, the information would bring him the money he wanted, but the woman wouldn’t. And at this point, he didn’t care what happened to Kassidy Buchanan or anyone associated with her.