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Alina slammed the door to the Jeep, crossing the grass towards the deck. She raised an eyebrow as Damon emerged from the trees at the back of the yard and paused, waiting for him. He strode across the lawn, moving with a jungle-cat stride that emanated dangerous power. She watched him, wondering if she would ever get used to seeing him like this.
“Where did you disappear to at the crack of dawn?” Damon asked, his blue eyes meeting hers as he joined her.
“I had something to take care of. Where are you coming from?”
A laugh lit his eyes.
“I had something to take care of.”
Alina grinned and turned to continue toward the deck.
“Touché,” she murmured. “How did you survive Angela this morning?”
“As you can see, I came back. She has some very definite opinions, doesn’t she?”
Alina choked back a laugh.
“You have no idea. She was convinced I scared you off.”
Damon grinned and glanced down at her.
“I’d like to see you try.”
Alina met his gaze and smiled.
“Don’t tempt me,” she murmured, reaching for the sliding door.
Alina stepped into the living room and glanced around. Angela was ensconced at the dining room table with her laptop, cellphone, headset, and soda, typing away. Michael was settled in the recliner, his laptop open, and earbuds in his ears. They both looked up as she came in.
“It’s about time you showed up!” Angela exclaimed. “Where the hell have you been?”
Alina raised an eyebrow and walked over to drop her keys onto the bar.
“I wasn’t aware I had to check in.”
Angela flushed at the mild reproach in Alina’s voice.
“You could at least send a text,” she said less aggressively. “Michael and I were both trying to reach you all day yesterday, then you disappear again this morning.”
Alina walked over to the cabinet and pulled out a mug, setting it under the spout of her coffee machine.
“As you can see, I’m fine,” she said over her shoulder before hitting a button on the machine.
The loud noise of grinding beans filled the kitchen. Damon walked into the kitchen and got a mug out of the cabinet, joining her at the coffee maker.
“All I’m saying is that a text can go a long way,” Angela called from the dining room.
“I’m starting to appreciate why Michael has headphones in,” Damon murmured in her ear.
Alina nodded in wholehearted agreement as the grinder stopped and the machine began brewing espresso into her mug. Once it was finished, she pulled her mug out and moved over so Damon could make his. She sipped the coffee and turned to go over to the bar.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, sliding onto a bar stool.
“Sore.” Angela stretched and sat back in her chair. “Have you spoken to Stephanie today? I tried calling but it went straight to voicemail.”
Alina shook her head.
“I stopped and saw her last night. Her phone probably died. I don’t imagine she had a charger with her.”
“Michael won’t let me go see her,” said Angela with a frown. “I don’t see why we can’t go to the hospital.”
“Because you promised you would stay put after the funeral,” Alina said. “Nothing’s changed. If anything, it’s more important you stay here, out of sight.”
Before Angela could argue, her cell phone rang. After glancing at the screen, she picked up her Bluetooth and hooked it onto her ear.
“Hello,” she answered, turning back to her laptop.
“Where are we with Kyle?” Damon asked her in a low voice, leaning against the granite bar next to her with his coffee in his hands.
Alina glanced at him, hesitated, then sighed.
“He’s disappeared. Checked out this morning.”
Blue eyes studied her over the rim of his mug.
“You went to the hotel?”
She nodded.
“It was wiped clean, not even a hair left behind.” She looked up at him. “And before you get up on your high horse, I didn’t expect him to be there, so I didn’t see the point in telling you.”
Damon studied her in silence for a moment.
“Any idea where he went?” he asked finally.
“No.”
“Fantastic,” he muttered, drinking his coffee. “So, we’ve got him and this Trent guy in the wind and Kasim is still missing. Is there anything else I’m missing? Do you want to let a couple more out of Gitmo while we’re at it?”
Alina grinned despite herself.
“If it was easy, everyone would do it.”
“Now here comes your gunny. He doesn’t look happy,” Damon warned, straightening up. “I think things are about to get worse.”
Alina turned to watch as Michael stood up, setting his laptop down on the coffee table. Damon was right. He didn’t look happy. His lips were set in a grim line as he moved towards them.
“You went out early,” he said to Alina, joining them at the bar. “You were leaving when I came down.”
“You were up early, then,” she replied with a smile.
“Blake called me at the crack of dawn,” Michael said, leaning on the bar and crossing his arms over his chest. “Things just keep getting worse.”
Alina frowned.
“Did they find the guy who planted the drugs in his house?”
Damon’s eyebrows shot into his forehead.
“Wait, what?” he asked, startled. “The guy who did what?”
Michael looked at him, then Alina.
“He doesn’t know?” When she shook her head, he turned his green eyes to Damon. “You know who Blake is?”
Damon nodded.
“I know of him. He’s been tracking the Casa Reinos Cartel, and helped Stephanie with the bombs a few weeks ago.”
“Right. Well, last week, someone broke into his house and planted a brick of heroin in his closet. He’s got hidden cameras all over the house, so they have video of the person doing it.”
Damon frowned.
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Neither did I,” Alina said.
“It gets worse,” Michael said. “Last night, a witness from a case two years ago pressed charges against him for unprofessional conduct and sexual assault.”
Alina stared at him, her lips pressed together.
“I’m guessing he doesn’t have a clue what this witness is talking about?” Damon asked after a moment of silence.
“Not the slightest,” said Michael. “I know you don’t know him, so you’ll have to take my word for it, but the very thought of Blake doing anything like that is ridiculous.”
Damon glanced at Alina to find her staring into her coffee mug, lost in thought.
“Is it a legitimate witness?” Damon asked, looking at Michael.
“Yes, but he doesn’t have any memory of having even been alone with her. He’s been placed on leave, and they’re launching an internal investigation.”
“So he’s not working while they sort this out?” Alina looked up sharply.
“No.”
Damon glanced at her curiously.
“What are you thinking?”
Alina glanced at Angela. She was still on the phone, typing and talking at the same time, engrossed in her work. Alina lowered her voice.
“That someone doesn’t want Blake working right now, and perhaps for good reason. When he was up here, he linked the Cartel to Dominic DiBarcoli and helped track down the bombs. Hell, he witnessed one of the bombs detonating. He knows all about the link between Trasker and the terrorists. Then, he goes home and immediately becomes a target. Someone’s getting worried.”
Damon nodded, his brow clearing.
“They’re afraid he’ll uncover something in Washington.”
“Or someone.”
Michael looked from one to the other.
“That’s really thin,” he said. “It could just be someone he locked up.”
Alina looked at him, suddenly amused.
“Do you still believe in Santa, too?”
“I’m just saying there are other possibilities. You don’t always have to jump to the conspiracy theory.”
“You haven’t been around the block as much as we have,” she murmured.
Damon finished his coffee and set the empty mug down on the bar.
“She’s right. Odds are not in favor of this being orchestrated by a disgruntled inmate. At least things are starting to make sense now.”
Michael snorted.
“I’m glad you think so. It’s about as clear as mud to me.”
“Let us worry about making sense out of it,” Alina said. “You just keep working on Trasker.”
“About that,” said Michael, straightening up. “I found something interesting.”
She raised an eyebrow questioningly.
“And that is?”
“I came across an investor list. A lot of people have invested heavily in the company, which is no surprise. I went through it, and a few names jumped out at me. On a hunch, I backtracked one of them to a shell company in the Florida Keys. You’ll never guess who the CEO was.”
“I don’t have to because you’re going to tell me,” Alina said dryly.
Michael grinned.
“Dominic DiBarcoli.”
“You’re right,” she said after a second of silence. “That is unexpected.”
Damon raised his eyebrows and glanced at her.
“How so?” he asked. “We knew he was involved with Trasker. How is this unexpected?”
“It wasn’t the name I thought would be the first one out,” Alina said, picking up her empty coffee mug and standing up. “When did he buy stocks?”
“That’s the best part,” said Michael. “A month ago.”
“That’s convenient timing,” Damon said. “Especially if you’re expecting a sudden demand for their latest and greatest drug.”
Alina circled the bar and carried her mug over to the sink.
“So now we know he was set to make money on the antidote.”
“We know more than that,” Michael said, turning to face her. “I know who put the money into the shell company to purchase the shares.”
Alina spun around and looked at him sharply.
“It wasn’t his own money?”
Michael shook his head.
“Not all of it. Only about a third of the money came from Dominic’s firms. The rest came from an offshore account.”
Damon and Alina stared at him, their attention arrested.
“Where?” Alina demanded. “What country?”
Michael blinked.
“Country? What does that matter?”
“What country?!”
“Singapore!” he exclaimed. “The money came from an account in Singapore.”
Stephanie opened her laptop and powered it up, glancing across the room at the TV on the wall. A news anchor droned on, reporting on another wildfire in California, and she shook her head. As much as she hated watching the news, the alternative daytime soap was worse.
Blake had left over an hour ago, the nurse had unearthed a vase for the flowers, lunch had been and gone, and she was finally able to turn her attention to Trent Whitfield. Once her laptop loaded, Stephanie opened the FBI database and cracked her knuckles while she waited for her VPN credentials to verify and the software to launch. Her mind wandered to Blake, and the witness accusing him of sexual assault. Her lips tightened and she shook her head.
What an absolute crock. Her blood was boiling on his behalf. Stephanie admitted that she perhaps didn’t know Blake as well as she would like, but she knew him well enough to know she had never once felt uncomfortable with him. The idea of him assaulting anyone would be laughable if it wasn’t so serious. He could lose his career over this! Who the hell was this woman, and why was she so determined to destroy a man’s life?
Blake said Michael would see what he could find out about the witness. He wouldn’t even give her the name. Stephanie's lips twitched. Blake wasn’t stupid. He knew if he gave her the name, she’d start poking around.
Stephanie turned her attention back to the laptop screen as the database opened and she quickly set Blake and his troubles out of her mind. She’d worry about him later. Right now, she had to find out what she could about this Trent Whitfield, and why he was suddenly Angela’s shadow. Why did he show up at the viewing for a man he’d never met? And why did he drive out into the Pine Barrens looking for Angela?
Stephanie paused thoughtfully. Alina said he was attacked by her hawk. Birds of prey were no joke. If Raven did his job, Trent would definitely have spent the rest of the night in the ER. Typing rapidly, Stephanie forewent the national database for a moment, turning instead to the local hospitals. About half an hour later, she found what she was looking for. Trent Whitfield was admitted into the Virtua Emergency Room in Voorhees at 1:05am Tuesday morning with severe lacerations.
“Well, that’s that,” Stephanie murmured. “He was definitely the one Raven attacked.”
She minimized the screen and went back to the federal database.
“Alright, Trent Whitfield. Let’s see who you are and why the hell you’re here.”
“Son of a—!” Damon exclaimed. “You’re sure?”
Michael stared at him, then looked at Alina.
“Of course I’m sure. What’s the big deal with Singapore? You both look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Let’s just say Singapore is getting to be a sore spot,” Alina said. “You said you had a name?”
Michael nodded.
“It took some digging, but I was able to trace the account back to someone in Washington, DC,” he said, lowering his voice. “That’s what I was doing when you came in. The account belongs to Senator Robert Carmichael.”
Alina frowned.
“Senator Carmichael?” she repeated. “You’re sure?”
“Why do you two keep asking if I’m sure?” Michael demanded, disgruntled. “This is what I do. It’s why you have me doing it!”
“I don’t think that was a name she was expecting either,” Damon explained, watching Alina’s face.
“How does Carmichael connect to Dominic?” she demanded, looking at them. “How do they even know each other?”
Michael shook his head.
“I have no–” he stopped abruptly, his eyes widening. “Of course!” he exclaimed suddenly. “That’s who it was!”
Alina and Damon stared at him.
“Care to clue us in?” Damon asked, amused.
Michael looked at Alina.
“The night before the bombs, remember?” he demanded. She shook her head blankly and he sighed. “I stopped here on my way to Brooklyn. I told you I’d met Dominic DiBarcoli at a fundraiser in DC.”
Alina nodded slowly.
“Yes,” she said. “You were there for your boss. I remember now. What of it?”
Michael shook his head and made an impatient noise.
“I couldn’t remember who introduced us. It was Robert Carmichael. Senator Carmichael introduced me to DiBarcoli.”