Chapter Fourteen

Riding along in the lead SUV, Sloan was relieved to be on the hunt for something that would close this case. He’d struggled with doubt on the plane to Los Angeles. The self-recrimination was hard enough, but tonight, as Allison boldly faced accusations from him and Tom, his doubts grew. Now he felt a driving need for resolution and wanted some action to make it happen.

Kissing Allison in front of the other agents wasn’t the smartest move he’d made all day, but the moment his lips touched hers, he’d known it was necessary. In his heart, he believed in her. She cared about her work, her family, and her country. O’Neal might understand Sloan’s gut feeling, but he wasn’t about to explain it to Tom or the FBI. Allison was loyal and honest. One of the most genuine women he knew.

From the moment he’d first received the news implicating her as the hacker, he’d felt it had to be wrong. He’d let little things fuel his doubt—cloud his judgment. Once he finished with this case, he and Allison would straighten out those little things—and more.

Sloan never disobeyed O’Neal’s orders. Dragging Allison to Los Angeles had been just that. An order. But he hadn’t been ordered to believe she was guilty. Her stricken face when she confronted them had been like a knife to his heart. Her brave request to prove her innocence convinced him she couldn’t be the hacker.

He realized now that she hadn’t been trying to distract him when she kissed him last night. At the time, she’d had no idea she was under suspicion. She’d given a part of herself to him. His lack of faith must have crushed her. His actions shattered her trust, and he hated himself for that.

Allison was a fighter. He’d experienced her stubbornness long before this case started. Her resolve was stronger than that mountain blizzard. When faced with their accusations, she’d lifted her chin and plowed right into the data on the computer to find the true culprit. And in that moment, he’d been so proud of her.

Even after his accusations at the safe house, she’d responded to his kiss. He could still taste her. Reliving her response gave him hope she would forgive him.

He couldn’t even think of her as his cyborg queen any longer. There were a lot of things he wanted to discuss with Allison. Foremost would be her forgiveness. Trust was hard-earned in any relationship. He wanted to win it back.

His thoughts about Allison—about where their relationship might lead—were unknown territory. His need was so great it scared him. He wanted to be the one to bring her out of her self-exile—to help her heal from her survivor’s guilt. He wanted to watch her escape her past and rise out of her shell like the sun cresting the snow-capped mountains.

He’d felt like part of her family back in the cozy, snowbound house in Idaho. He’d been so proud of Mitch when he stood up for his aunt. Mitch and Allison showed a kind of devotion and sacrifice Sloan never experienced in his own family. Even when he and Allison were at odds, he’d felt complete. As if he’d come home. The last couple of days would be among his most cherished memories.

And now, the moments without her were an eternity. An eternity he’d have to get through so they could be together.

Thirty minutes after leaving the safe house, the task force reached the address Allison had told them was the hacker’s location. Both SUVs stopped in front of a three-story apartment complex in the seedier side of Hollywood. The target’s apartment was on the third floor in the middle building. Regardless of the palm trees, the place was not the glamorous location of movie stars. Sparse lighting pockmarked the narrow street. Cars that had seen better days huddled against the curbs. Sloan, Tom, and Agent Roberts climbed out of the first SUV. Four more FBI agents exited the second.

Tom scurried next to Sloan. “Are you out of your mind?” he whispered.

Sloan didn’t break his stride toward the building. “What are you talking about, Tom?”

“Kissing Allison like that.”

Sloan clenched his fists before he did something he’d regret. “It’s none of your business.” He’d never had a reason to dislike the meddlesome, pretentious nerd until he hurt Allison. Now Sloan wondered if Tom carried a grudge against his coworker, wishing he had her position in the lab.

“Of course it’s my business.” Tom hurried to keep pace with Sloan’s longer stride. “You’ve lost your objectivity. I don’t think you have Northstar’s interests as a priority. I think you’ve fallen for her. Or… maybe…”

Sloan whirled and Tom stopped short of crashing into him. “Or maybe what?”

Tom swallowed, but stood resolute under Sloan’s stare. “You’re making her believe you have feelings for her to get the truth.” Tom nodded to himself as though he’d figured something out. “That has to be it. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Sloan took a step closer. “Why does it make sense?”

Tom’s eyes darted sideways. “Think about it, Cartland. This is Allison we’re talking about. She’s not your type. No one’s gonna believe the two of you…” Tom’s voice trailed off.

Sloan wondered if O’Neal would care if he wrung the tech’s neck as he grabbed the man’s shirt in a tight fist. “If you know what’s good for you, you won’t question my loyalties again. This conversation is over.” He released Tom and pushed him back toward the cars.

Tom swallowed hard. “Whoa! Back off. Just calling it as I see it.”

Sloan stared hard at the tech. Tom shouldn’t be out here. This raid was on an unknown person or persons. Tom wasn’t trained as a field agent and could be hurt if there was gunfire. He patted the 9mm pistol issued to him by the FBI when they left the safe house. “Wait in the car.” Sloan pointed a finger. “Until we’ve cleared the area.”

“You can’t send me away,” Tom protested. “I have to make sure no one touches the computer equipment.”

Sloan glared at him. “Once we’ve secured the place, we won’t touch anything until you arrive. Go back to the car.”

Tom looked as though he wanted to argue.

“Now.” Sloan commanded.

Tom flipped Sloan a rude gesture then stalked to the car, climbed into the front seat, and slammed the door. The tech was only present because of the computers they expected to find. But he was annoying as hell. And dead wrong about Allison.

Sloan would rather have had Allison here. Except the suspicion hanging over her head wasn’t going to disappear based on Sloan’s opinion alone. He’d had no choice but to leave her. She and Mitch were secure back at the safe house.

He followed Agent Roberts into the building and up a stairwell to the third floor. Two more FBI agents brought up the rear. The other two stayed outside the building, covering both the front and back exits.

When they reached the third floor, agents moved cautiously along the wall to the apartment door. Agent Roberts drew out his weapon. The other agents did the same, and Sloan un-holstered the pistol. The weapon’s weight and balance offered a measure of confidence in the unknown situation.

Sloan’s heart ratcheted up a notch, recalling the last time he’d approached a door with a gun in his hand. Had that really been only three days ago?

He much preferred profiling the bad guy before and during the investigation. When enough evidence was gathered to assure a conviction, he usually sat in on the interrogation. However, if this raid was successful, it would exonerate Allison. He took a breath to calm his racing heart.

Agent Roberts pounded on the apartment door.

“FBI! Open the door!” Roberts shouted loud enough for most of the residents on the floor to hear.

This late in the evening, people had settled in for the night. A few doors opened along the hallway and faces peered out, then quickly ducked out of sight after seeing the agents with guns and badges.

One door hadn’t opened.

Agent Roberts reached down and slowly turned the handle. Locked. Roberts holstered his gun, made eye contact with each man in the group and held up three fingers. Silently, he counted down, folding each finger, one at a time, into his fist. As the last finger disappeared, he kicked in the door.

Wood shattered, and metal buckled under the force of his foot. The door slammed against the wall. Another agent braced the door with the heel of his foot as Roberts retrieved his weapon.

Agents quickly filed inside and took up strategic positions along an entryway that led into the living space.

Sloan aimed his weapon at one corner, then the next. There was no furniture, except for a long folding table covered with computer equipment.

Keeping his gun at the ready, he walked up to the table in the center of the room. The other agents fanned out through the rest of the apartment. Shouts of “clear” echoed as each agent reported in.

No one was home.

Sloan slowed his breathing as he holstered his weapon.

The agents returned to the main room, checking and rechecking each corner. Only the hum of large fans broke the silence.

No windows were open, but Sloan felt a breeze as cold as a January blizzard blow over his face. This much equipment needed air-conditioning to run at an optimum.

“Don’t touch anything,” Sloan said to the agents. He nodded to Roberts. “Get Tom in here.”

“I’ll bring the crime kit, too,” Agent Roberts said as he left the apartment.

Sloan scowled. This was the address Allison had given them, but the bust wasn’t what they’d expected. Where was the hacker? Sloan stared at the monitors. One word scrolled across the screens in a continuous circle like a shark closing in on its prey.

Suckers!

A sinking cold settled in the pit of Sloan’s stomach.

“Catchy.” Tom smirked as he walked up beside Sloan.

“Got any idea what it means?”

“It means you’ve been suckered.”

Sloan jerked toward Tom who stepped back and dropped a black toolbox on the floor.

“I don’t get it.” Sloan tilted his head, still staring at the machines.

“I bet this is a clone.”

“What’s a clone?” Sloan stared at Tom, more than a little annoyed at his smug tone.

“All of this.” Tom waved his hand at the equipment. “It’s fake.”

“You mean this was set up to trick Allison?”

Tom threw a how-gullible-can-you-be look at Sloan and leaned toward him. “Allison knew she was sending us to a dummy location.” He studied the equipment on the table more closely. “You got played, Mr. Playboy.” He didn’t bother to hide the satisfaction in his voice.

“You’re pushing a few too many buttons, Delano.” A slow burn rose up Sloan’s neck. He wasn’t wrong about Allison. He just couldn’t find fault in Tom’s assessment. Something here wasn’t right.

For Sloan to establish Allison’s innocence, he needed proof contrary to all the circumstantial evidence mounting against her.

“Hey, don’t touch that,” Tom snapped at an agent who had nearly tripped over cords. “How soon can you be done dusting for prints?” he asked Agent Roberts. “I want these machines moved to the FBI house so I can start dissecting them. The real clues are inside these babies.”

Agent Roberts gave a non-committal grunt and opened up the crime kit. Then he gave Sloan a nod and rolled his eyes.

While Agent Roberts dusted the table and computer equipment for prints, Sloan wandered through the apartment searching for something that would help Allison’s case.

He found nothing. Not even hairs in the bathroom. The word, Suckers, taunted him every time he glanced at the monitor. Someone was playing games with them. Someone who knew they would eventually find this apartment and the computers.

Tom hovered over the equipment like a vulture waiting to scavenge.

“Tom,” Sloan called as he returned to the table. “Why would someone set up a dummy system for us to find?”

Tom shrugged. “Can’t tell without looking inside. My guess is Allison bounced signals off this system from Idaho. It’s not unusual to see signals ping off several locations to hide the origin. Fortunately, we’re pretty good at tracing things like this.”

“Then get to it.” Sloan stepped away to think. He didn’t like the geek, but had to concede Tom knew his stuff. He made it sound like Allison had fooled them all.

Sloan tried to shove his doubts aside, but they surfaced again. He was trained to analyze problems as well as people. As he tried to piece the puzzle together, he wondered if Tom was right? Because Allison spearheaded the investigation, she could have kept the trail hidden—used a relay to make it look like the hacker was located in Los Angeles. She would’ve had to have an accomplice if that was the case. Other than the trip to Idaho, she’d been in Washington the entire course of the investigation.

And what about the IP Tom said originated from Idaho? Was that a clue? Had she made a mistake by exposing the location? What if apprehending her had forced her hand? They’d tightened the noose back at the safe house. Maybe she had to supply a location to keep suspicion away from herself. And Sloan took the bait. Despite his personal conviction of her innocence, he had no choice but to question her story again.

No. He mentally shook off the doubt. His gut told him something was off. Allison wasn’t a criminal—he’d stake his reputation on it. There must be another explanation. He hoped to find it soon.

An hour after they’d raided the apartment, Tom had finished unhooking the cables and prepared the machines for transport. One by one, the monitors, CPU, modems, routers, and even the table were carefully packed for the ride back to the FBI house.

Sloan paced beside the SUV as the boxes were loaded. He was anxious to return to the safe house. Tom may be good, but Allison was better. If she looked through the computers they were bringing back, maybe she could find clues to the location of the real hacker.

It was nearly midnight when they pulled into the safe house’s driveway. Sloan was excited to see Allison again. He’d never felt this connection with any woman before. He longed to see her smile. Hear her laugh. Tom thought they were returning with more evidence against her, but Sloan knew he was bringing back the tools to prove her innocence.

He sprang from the car and rushed to open the front door for the agents caring the confiscated equipment.

The door was already open.

He kept a hand on his weapon and cautiously walked inside. The place looked the same as when they’d left. Agent Kane probably saw them arrive and opened the door for them, then returned to guard Allison and Mitch. He lowered his hand as Agent Roberts came in and cleared a place on the tables to set up the confiscated computers.

While the others were occupied unloading the boxes, Sloan looked around. Allison was probably in one of the back rooms with Agent Kane and Mitch. It was late. She’d want to rest with Mitch.

The house was too quiet. He couldn’t shake the feeling something was off.

He strode down the hall and stopped at the room where Agent Kane took Mitch earlier. The door was ajar and the light was on.

A bad feeling crept up Sloan’s spine. He slowly pushed on the door to look inside.

Bedcovers were rumpled. On the floor, next to the bed, Agent Kane lay facedown—a dark pool of blood under his head.

Sloan knelt beside the agent and pressed fingers to the side of his neck. There was a faint pulse. “Man down in here,” he shouted. “Call 9-1-1!”

Agent Roberts and Tom rushed to the room. Tom paled when he saw the blood. Roberts swore and pulled out his cell phone.

Sloan left the room to search the rest of the house for Allison and Mitch. His heart pounded as he turned on all the lights, looked in every corner and closet, hoping to find them.

He found no one. Allison and Mitch were gone.

An ambulance arrived five minutes after Agent Roberts made the call. Confusion reigned while the agent’s unconscious body was lifted onto a stretcher and rushed away in a flurry of lights and sirens.

A team of forensic specialists arrived next. Soon the house swarmed with men in white coveralls and plastic gloves. Prints were lifted. Trace evidence collected and tagged. Bloodstains were photographed. Everyone stayed out of the way—touched nothing—until the forensic investigators left.

A somber mood settled over the occupants of the safe house. After reporting in to O’Neal at Northstar and getting his ass chewed for losing Allison, Sloan wandered from room to room once again, searching for any sign of where Allison and Mitch might have gone. He struggled to stay calm. At the firm, he was the voice of reason when others overreacted from the emotional trauma of a case. Now, at the center of his worst nightmare, panic clawed at him.

With Allison and Mitch missing, the only clue rested with Agent Kane—and he was fighting for his life. While the task force worked on the computers, Sloan wandered back to the room where he’d found Agent Kane. The bedroom was taped off. He didn’t breach the barricade, but couldn’t stop staring at the blood and crumpled bedding.

He imagined a frightened young boy helplessly watching while his FBI protector was gunned down. Had Allison been with Mitch? Had she relived the terrifying moments of her own shooting? Or had she pulled the trigger, like the FBI thought?

Sloan wouldn’t—couldn’t accept that Allison had shot Kane. She wouldn’t have traumatized Mitch by shooting someone in front of him. Sloan believed in her innocence, and he would prove it.

Tired of his thoughts racing in circles, frustrated at feeling useless, he walked back into the main room. Tom had the computers’ hardware scattered all over the table.

“How’s it going?” Sloan hoped for some good news.

“Slow.” Tom’s forehead scrunched in concentration. “We’ve got the hard drive out, but I can’t get a good connection.” The tech pulled a lead off the hardware and picked up another.

Sloan nodded, although he didn’t really care at the moment. “I’m stepping outside for some fresh air.”

Agent Roberts looked at Sloan with a nod of understanding. Tom grunted, his attention already returning to the hardware.

Outside, no stars or moon shone through the dirty night air. In Idaho, after the snow had stopped, the air was crisp and clean. Sloan had seen what a true night sky should look like. He couldn’t believe the heavens held so many stars. They were so close, he could have almost reached up and touched them.

He understood Allison’s need to get away from surroundings that reminded her of the shooting, but he’d wondered how she could leave such a magical place. That was another item to add to his “ask Allison” list. He just hoped he’d have the chance.

Although the sky wasn’t clear, the cool air cleared his mind a little. Prowling around the house wasn’t helping Allison, nor was it locating the hacker. They had the register of names Allison’s program generated. There must be a clue there. He’d start profiling the most likely candidates with reasons to hack into Northstar’s system. From that information, maybe he could develop a lead on Allison’s disappearance and Agent Kane’s shooter.

Dragging his gaze from the sky, he turned toward the house. As he started up the walkway, the porch light reflected off an object half buried in the weeds. He reached down and pushed the weeds aside.

Mitch’s tablet. The screen was black, but the power LED glowed.

Sloan’s pulse pounded with excitement. Picking up the tablet, he felt reconnected with Allison and Mitch. He missed her, and Mitch, too.

Mitch would never leave his tablet behind by choice, not if Allison had taken him with her. He definitely wouldn’t have tossed it away.

Sloan’s stomach bottomed out. Finding the tablet was proof enough for him that Allison and Mitch were in trouble. The boy must have dropped it or had it taken away by force. They must have been taken against their will.

Clutching the game, Sloan turned toward the SUVs. “Please,” he whispered to the night. “Please let them be alive.”

He jumped inside the nearest vehicle, determined to find Allison and Mitch before anyone else. He reached for the ignition, but the key wasn’t there. Nor was it tucked inside the visor. Pounding the steering wheel, he felt as if he were perched on the edge of a cliff, anticipating a plunge into a never-ending abyss. As far as the FBI was concerned, the entire case had moved from the ranks of cyber-terrorism to attempted homicide. And Allison Richards topped their suspect list.

He rarely asked for divine intervention, but he sent another request heavenward for the agent to survive. Until Kane regained consciousness, no one would know exactly what happened.

This was all Sloan’s fault. His pride and damned self-righteousness had manipulated Allison and Mitch to come to Los Angeles. Guilt burned in his gut. It didn’t matter that he’d been following orders. Allison and Mitch’s lives could be forfeit. The thought of them dead seared his soul.