At seven o’clock that night, Mark’s BlackBerry began to vibrate. Pulling it off his belt, he pressed it to his ear. “Sanders.”
“Mark, it’s Steve. I heard from Paul Sheehan. He won’t commit to a match without seeing the hard copy, but he’s 95 percent certain Evans’s writing was forged for your note.”
“Coop and I came to the same conclusion from eyeballing it.” Mark looked over at Coop as his partner parked the car in front of Emily’s condo and mouthed, “It matches.”
“We also did some checking on Evans. His alibi is solid and his record is spotless. The man’s a boy scout.”
“That’s what Allison said.”
“His employees all check out too. We ran them through the NCIC and looked for matches against the Eight List. Nothing.” “Any other leads from the Eight List investigation?”
“Lots of alibis that need to be checked. Nothing promising.” “Same on our end.” He and Coop had spent a frustrating day traversing the city’s South Side with nothing to show for their efforts.
“Evans also sent over a list of contractors he uses. I talked to Carl, and Oakdale is going to work on getting their employee rosters and running a preliminary check against the Eight List and NCIC. Let’s touch base in the morning.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
As Mark slid the device back into the holder on his belt, Coop opened the driver-side door. “Hang tight while I take a look around.”
“Trust me. I have the drill down by now.”
Three minutes later, Coop opened Mark’s door. “We’re clear.”
“You know, I’m getting kind of used to this service.”
“Enjoy it while it lasts, pal, because it’s never going to happen again. When do you want me back?” He scanned the area again as he walked with Mark to Emily’s door.
“Nine. I’d stay later, but Emily needs her sleep.”
Mark pressed the bell, and Emily answered a few seconds later.
“Hi.” She stepped aside. “Are you coming in, Coop?”
“No.” The two men answered in unison as Mark entered.
“You know you’re always welcome,” she told him with a grin.
“Good night, Coop.” Mark reached around Emily and closed the door in his friend’s face.
“That wasn’t very nice.”
“He’ll live. Besides, if he hangs around I can’t do this.” Stepping close, he claimed her lips in a kiss of welcome thorough enough to leave no doubt in her mind about how much he’d missed her. “Is my plan still working?” he murmured when at last he eased back.
“No comment.” But her breathless response gave him his answer.
Chuckling, he draped an arm around her shoulders and guided her toward the living room. “What’s on our agenda tonight?”
“How about a movie?”
“Sounds good.”
“Did you have dinner?”
“We stopped at a fast food place.”
“Not very healthy.”
“True. But as the name says, fast. We had a busy day.”
“Any news?”
“Some. If you can spare a soda, I’ll give you an update.”
“Go ahead and get comfortable. I’ll be back in a minute.”
When she returned, Mark had shed his jacket and tie and was rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt.
“I hope you don’t mind. But in the HRT I rarely wear a suit, and the field office dress code is requiring some adjustment. The heat isn’t helping, either. It was ninety-five again today.”
“And no end in sight, according to the weather people.” She handed him a soda and watched as he consumed half of it in one long gulp.
“At least you look cool. And I mean that in every sense of the word.” He gave her white shorts and sleeveless red knit top an appreciative perusal. “Come sit next to me.”
She settled beside him, tucking her legs under her. “Tell me the news.”
“Someone in our office recognized the handwriting on the follow-up note the shooter sent.”
She angled toward him, her expression startled. “You’re kidding!” “No. We do get odd breaks like that once in a while. Our handwriting expert in Quantico will confirm the match tomorrow after he gets our original sample, but he’s 99 percent certain already from the fax we sent.” He told her about their visit with Mike Evans, and the follow-up lists that was generating.
“Meaning more leads but no solution.” Frowning, Emily ran a finger around the rim of her soda can.
“Hey, don’t get discouraged.” Mark lifted her chin with a finger.
“The pieces are beginning to fall into place. And we’re working our way through the Eight List. We’re going to find a match somewhere, Emily. Trust me. Now tell me about your day.”
The parallel creases in her brow deepened. “Not so good.”
“Is your arm bothering you?” He leaned around her in concern to examine the healing wound.
“No. I was speaking in a professional sense. I had a new patient— an EAP referral. He lost his only son to suicide a couple of months ago, and his wife to a heart attack three weeks later.
Now he’s having problems on the job.”
Mark entwined his fingers with hers. “Wow. Those are tough breaks.”
“Very. And he’s not handling them well. Part of the problem is he’s keeping everything bottled up inside. I didn’t get very far with him, and I’m not optimistic about his next visit on Monday, either. But he needs help.”
“What was it you once told me about leading a horse to water?”
She conceded the point with a shrug. “I know. I just didn’t like the vibes I was getting. There has to be a way to reach him.”
“At least you got him to agree to come back.”
“He could always cancel.”
“Don’t look for trouble.”
“I don’t have to. It’s finding me all by itself.” Her shoulders drooped and she sighed.
The strain of the past three weeks was getting to her, Mark realized. There was a gauntness to her face that reflected both fatigue and weight loss. The strain around her mouth and eyes was also new since their first conversation in the park. And he’d added to it by putting pressure on her about their relationship.
Perhaps he should back off on that front until things settled down. She knew how he felt. Pushing would do nothing except increase her stress.
Pulling her close, Mark pressed his lips to her hair. “Hang in there, Em. This will be over soon. I promise.”
“I hope so.”
“What do you say we put on one of those zany Marx Brothers movies I spotted in your DVD rack? I think we’re both due for some laughter.”
“Okay.”
He eased away from her and stood to retrieve the movie, hoping it would help both of them forget for a little while the cloud that had been hanging over them since the day in the park.
But once the movie ended, they’d be back where they were before it began.
Hunted by an unknown assailant.
And while he’d been quiet for a while, Mark had a growing sense of unease that he was getting ready to make another move.
They were keeping an eye on her.
Dale hunched down in his Ford Taurus rental car and watched as the guy who’d dropped off the FBI agent earlier at Emily Lawson’s condo returned. Considering the thorough scan he gave the parking lot before he headed for the door, Dale figured he was either an agent or a cop too.
Parking his car in the long-term lot at the airport and picking up a rental car for the next few days had been a smart move, Dale decided. He was too close to completing his mission to take any risks. Considering how he’d muddied up the license plate on his car the day of the shooting, he was confident no one could have read the number. But after the mistakes at work, he needed to take extra precautions, just to be safe.
His plan was almost finished, and it was a good one. A righteous one. God approved. He could tell.
Now it was a matter of deciding when to implement it. That’s why he was watching her place. Why he planned to follow her for the next couple of days. He needed to find out if the cops or the feds were guarding her round the clock. He hoped not.
She needed to be alone for his plan to work.
Dale watched as the two men returned to the car and drove away. The shades were drawn in the shrink’s condo, but she was there.
Two hours later, she was still there. Alone.
Good.
It was time for him to take the next step.
“I just had a call from Les.”
Turning from the coffeemaker, Mark watched his partner enter Nick’s kitchen, setting aside his pleasant thoughts about the previous evening with Emily. “A call from the boss. Interesting way to start the day.”
“He wants me back in Quantico for the weekend. For a little R & R, as he put it.”
“Sounds reasonable. You’ve worked three weeks straight without a break.”
“He’s never cared about that in the past when we were in the middle of a mission. None of us got a break until the job was finished.” Coop leaned back against the counter and folded his arms across his chest as he sized up his friend. “And the job here isn’t finished.”
“I’ll stick close to Nick while you’re gone. Besides, my schedule is impossible to pin down these days. The shooter has no idea where I’ll be, except at night when I’m here sleeping. And Nick’s got a state-of-the-art security system.”
“Les wouldn’t know that. Unless someone told him.”
Grinning, Mark poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Coop.
“Happy anniversary.”
“What I want to know is how you managed to pull this off.”
“Trade secret.”
“Especially since things are beginning to get interesting here.”
Coop continued as if Mark hadn’t spoken.
“More interesting than spending the weekend with Monica?” A slow smile tugged at Coop’s lips. “Good point. Forget I said that.”
“It’s forgotten. I had a call this morning too. From Steve. Paul confirmed the match.”
“We expected that.”
“He also said they’re beginning to get employee names from Evans’s contractors. He’s passing them on to Oakdale. They’ll run them through NCIC and check the names against the Eight List as they come in while we hit the streets again. But we’re operating with reduced manpower today. Nick’s closing in on the last bank robbery suspect and Steve’s had to pull quite a few agents in to assist. The arrests may go down this weekend.”
“See all the fun I’ll be missing?” Coop grinned and refilled his cup.
“Yeah. You look real upset.”
“Hey, I’ll be thinking about all of you.”
“Right.”
“Unless Monica distracts me too much.”
“Why do I think that’s a given?”
Chuckling, Coop drained his cup and set it on the counter.
But as he turned back to Mark, his expression grew more serious. “Listen, whatever you did . . . whatever strings you pulled . . . thanks. I owe you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I bet you will. Just do me a favor, okay? Stay out of trouble while I’m gone.”
“Don’t I always?”
Rolling his eyes, Coop snagged the car keys. “Let’s hit the road. We’ve got a shooter to catch.”
Emily took off her headphones and rose from the chair in the studio as Andy gave her a thumbs-up from the glass window in the control booth.
The program had gone well tonight, she concluded. Kyle had called back, sounding much more upbeat since he’d begun talking to a counselor at school, and the rest of the teens she had chatted with had been receptive to her suggestions. These were the kinds of sessions she most enjoyed.
As she gathered up her notes, she saw Mark and Coop rise from their seats in the booth. After a brief discussion, Coop exited and Mark turned toward her. The warmth of his smile was like the thawing, life-generating caress of the spring sun.
That was an apt analogy, Emily reflected as she moved to join him. After Grant’s death, she’d been convinced she could never again take the risk of loving. Not even someone in a “safe”profession, let alone an FBI agent. Yet a mere three weeks into their reunion, she was finding it harder and harder to imagine life without Mark. The twenty-year gap in their relationship had melted away as her memory of the teenage Mark with grand plans and high ideals melded with the reality of the grown man who’d brought them to fruition with integrity, discipline, and an admirable sense of honor and justice.
She’d loved Mark back in those Wren Lake days, when young passions were high. Yet she’d gotten over him after life had set them on different paths.
This time, however, she didn’t think she’d emerge unscathed if she let him walk out of her life.
And that would happen in nine days, when he returned to
Quantico. For always, if she let fear stop her from following her heart. Or temporarily, if she was willing to give their relationship a fair chance. But unless she was, she couldn’t let him take the job here. His sole tie to St. Louis was her. If she didn’t think their relationship had a future, she had to be honest with him.
And she had to decide soon. Mark’s boss wouldn’t dally about filling the job in St. Louis.
“Good program.” Mark squeezed her hand as she entered the booth.
“Thanks.”
“Ready to call it a night?”
“Yes. See you next week, Andy.”
“I’ll be here.” With a wave, the long-haired technician set off down the hall to lock up.
Mark put his hand in the small of her back and guided her toward the door. When Coop gave a soft, patterned knock, signaling the all-clear, he stepped out first and motioned Emily to follow.
“You know, I’m starting to consider this clandestine stuff routine,” she commented as they walked toward the car. “That’s pretty sad.”
“A temporary inconvenience.” Coop opened the door for them as they slid into the backseat.
“I hear you’ve been given a reprieve for your anniversary, though,” Emily said as he took his place behind the wheel.
“Also temporary, unfortunately. But I’ll take it.”
“Your wife must be thrilled that you’ll be home to celebrate the big day.”
“That’s putting it mildly.” Grinning, he glanced at his two passengers in the rearview mirror. “By the way, Mark, she says thanks. And to tell you you’re invited for dinner as soon as you get back. Steak, no less.”
Curious, Emily looked at Mark. His face was hard to read in the dim light, but she thought she detected a flush on his cheeks.
“You had something to do with this?”
“Not much.”
“Don’t believe him, Emily. Somehow he convinced our boss— who doesn’t have a sentimental bone in his body—to give me a weekend pass. I always suspected my partner was a romantic at heart, although he keeps it well hidden. But being around you seems to bring it out in him.”
“Knock it off, Coop.” Mark’s comment came out as a low growl.
“Sorry, buddy. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“Sure.”
“Hey, Emily deals with feelings all day, every day. I’m sure she understands.”
Mark threw a quick, speculative glance her way, clearly not comfortable with his partner’s revelation about his softer side.
But she was glad Coop had passed on that bit of information.
It gave her yet another insight into the man who’d stolen her heart so many years ago on the shores of Wren Lake.
And it also reinforced her growing sense that her youthful crush hadn’t been misguided. Mark Sanders had been worthy of her affection years ago. And he was worthy of her love now.
If only she could find the courage to risk her heart again.
Dale had never been able to fathom why some men enjoyed frequenting sleazy, dark, smoky bars in questionable areas of town.
The ready availability of alcohol was one reason, he supposed.
He’d noticed the staff wasn’t too diligent about checking IDs, and a lot of the guys sitting around the tables had to be borderline minimum age.
The waitresses could be the attraction too. Most of the patrons were blatantly ogling the young women in their skin-tight jeans and low-cut tops.
It was possible the music was a draw, but he doubted it. Most of the customers were ignoring the small band that was playing some loud rock tune. For all he knew, it was the same song they’d been playing when he’d arrived forty-five minutes ago.
They all sounded alike to him.
He’d picked the same, shadowed corner table two nights in a row. It gave him a good view of the bar, and he’d already spotted some repeat customers from Wednesday night. The regulars were the ones he watched tonight. And it didn’t take long to pick out the one he needed to contact. The twenty-something guy with shaggy blond hair and several days’ growth of beard sat on the stool he’d occupied at the bar last night, and as the evening went on he conducted a series of discreet transactions.
That was the other reason to come to a place like this. For a price, in relative anonymity, you could get anything you wanted.
Cash was passed one way, goods the other. The exchange took seconds; eye contact was rarely made.
Several years ago, before his cop buddy had retired to Florida, he’d talked one night about the ease of doing business on the black market. Dale had half listened, never expecting to need the information. Now he wished he’d paid more attention. But he remembered a fair amount and had observed enough over the past two nights to do this.
He’d have preferred to make his own drug, but the recipe on the Internet was too complicated for his limited chemistry background. And he didn’t want to leave a trail by ordering the drug online via one of the products masquerading as a “health supplement.” There was no completely anonymous way to get it; this was the best he could do. Still, it bothered him. He Zdidn’t like relying on other people. Never had. For anything. But he didn’t have any better options in this situation.
Pulling the brim of his baseball cap lower, he adjusted the cheap, black-rimmed reading glasses he’d bought at Walgreens in an attempt to alter his appearance. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew the note written in the same style he’d used for his recent communication to the FBI agent and scanned it.
Liquid ecstasy. Tomorrow night?
He’d found the street slang for the drug on the Internet too.
There were a bunch of names for it, but this one appeared most often. The perverted use suggested by the name turned his stomach, but if the drug served its purpose, he could live with the term.
Two tables away, some guy yelled to the waitress to bring another round. This was the third for that table in the past half hour. The excess filled him with disgust. He didn’t drink alcohol, but he’d ordered a beer so he wouldn’t stand out. The untouched bottle sat on his table, the label dotted with beads of sweat. Like the ones forming on his forehead.
Signaling to the waitress, he folded the note into quarters.
When she approached, he kept his chin down and handed it to her, along with a five-dollar bill. “Please give this to the blond guy at the bar.”
She took it without a word, pocketing the money.
After she delivered it, cocking her head his direction, Dale watched from under the brim of his cap as the man unfolded it.
Sixty seconds later, the guy turned his direction and scrutinized him. Then he scribbled on the paper, refolded it, and gave it back to the waitress. She dropped it on his table as she passed.
Slowly Dale unfolded it. The amount the guy had jotted down was higher than it should be. He knew that from his research on the Net. But he wasn’t going to quibble about a few dollars.
It was a small price to pay for vengeance.
Lifting his chin, he gave a slight nod. The man turned back to the bar.
As Dale stood and threw some bills down next to his now-flat beer, relief flooded through him. His plans were falling into place. Tomorrow he’d have the drug in hand.
After that, it was just a matter of picking the right time and place.