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As Wolf climbed from his dream, his hands quested for Riley’s soft skin. Sun streamed in the window, sparking red dots on his closed eyelids. His fingers slid over the satiny sheets. Smooth—and cold. He was alone.
His eyes popped open. Where was she?
Had he hurt her last night? What had come over him? She was injured. He’d been a rutting animal. Not his style. Had he scared her?
His thudding heartbeat slowed to normal when he spotted her at the corner desk, chewing on a pencil. Wearing a baggy purple-and-gold BRU sweatshirt and gray sweatpants, she looked more like a schoolgirl than an FBI veteran. Her curly hair was shower damp. Bare ankles poked above a pair of purple Crocs decorated with gold flowers.
He sat up in bed. “I see we’re wearing school colors.”
Her smile flickered and vanished. “I woke up early. Walked over to the main house and scrounged clothes from Jennie’s closet.”
She nodded to a man’s jogging suit folded on a chair. “You fared better. You’re taller and thinner than my uncle, but the elastic waist should keep the pants up.”
“I’d better be long gone before he discovers someone pilfered his clothes.”
“That’s the least of our worries,” she mumbled.
He climbed out of bed and pulled on briefs. Riley didn’t look up. He walked over and lifted her chin, forcing eye contact. “What’s wrong?”
She looked down. “Why don’t you shower and get dressed. Then we can talk.”
She seemed cool, distant. Some bizarre “off again” bounce?
“Sure.” He snatched the borrowed clothes and headed for the bath. “Guess you’ll tell me what’s on your mind when you’re good and ready.”
He didn’t exactly slam the bathroom door but he didn’t close it gently either.
Take a shower. Don’t throw a fit until you know it’s warranted.
He completed his bathroom routine in record time. When he returned to the bedroom, he caught Riley pacing.
“My mood has nothing to do with you,” she said. “Last night all the news seemed good. Graduation’s canceled. Tom and your uncle are safe. Monson’s dead and the FBI rounded up the Onward members you photographed.”
“So why the gloom and doom?” Too keyed to sit, he leaned against a doorjamb.
Riley’s pacing opened more distance between them. “Uncle Ed’s the only person I know with enough clout to push for Hunter’s arrest. This morning I realized he won’t help me. I was dreaming.”
She shot a quick look at him. “I’m sorry, Wolf. Once he learns who you are, who Ray is, I doubt he’ll listen to anything. Especially since I haven’t a shred of evidence against John Hunter.”
“What are you saying?” Wolf’s volume notched up. “Ray saw Hunter order Smitty’s death. He heard the man admit he bankrolled Onward. Hunter shot at both of us last night. That fact alone should convince your uncle to overlook the small matter that he considers Ray and me to be slime.”
She slumped into a chair. “He’ll ask if I actually saw Hunter fire a weapon. I have to say no. Neither of us can identify the sniper. The only thing incriminating John is his car. I’m sure John will dream up a logical explanation for why it was parked at Beaver Falls.”
“This is insane,” Wolf said.
“I know,” she said. “But it’s reality. Then there’s your uncle—an alcoholic who suffers from combat stress.” Her voice softened. “Only Ray can connect Hunter to Onward. Authorities can’t coax Monson to roll over on him. He’s dead. So it’s Ray’s word against a man who holds a top-secret clearance. Guess who my uncle will believe. He’ll decide you’ve brainwashed me. My mother will second that opinion.”
She combed her fingers through her hair. “Hunter’s a successful businessman. No trouble with the law, not even a traffic ticket. If my uncle convinced someone to arrest him, he’d be out on bail in fifteen minutes. John has clout—and power—here and in D.C. When John goes to the White House, it’s not on a public tour.”
Wolf unclenched his jaw. Pain pounded behind his eyes.
“What then? We wait and see if your old family friend screws up his next murder? Should I turn myself in now? There’s lots of physical evidence against me—my knife, my jacket. I had motive and opportunity. Then, of course, I write smut, and no one trusts me with top secrets. Will your uncle push for my execution like he did for Cousin Hank?”
Riley’s defeated expression punched him in the gut.
“My God, that is what you think. Have you called the sheriff to pick me up? Or do you have the power to arrest me off-campus?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. “We have to face facts, be prepared. I’m not sure the FBI can do any more than Gary’s already agreed to do. He’ll try to link John with the dirty deputy and look at his finances.”
Wolf felt he’d fallen down something deeper than a rabbit hole. He knew Hunter was guilty. Riley did too. Yet he was the better candidate to be fitted for handcuffs. His immediate future seemed clear. He’d disappear. He knew the woods. How long did that abortion clinic bomber evade the Feds? Five years? Maybe by then there’d be proof Hunter was the killer.
If Wolf were charged with murder, hell would freeze over before a judge gave him bail. In jail, he’d be a target for any Onward scumbag assigned to his cellblock.
He took a deep breath. Calm down. Riley’s not your enemy—even if her family is. She’s thinking logically. Still an extended vacation looked mighty appealing. Ray and Tom were fine. The BRU threat ended. He could and would vanish.
He walked to the nightstand to retrieve his watch and wallet. They sat beside her GPS watch. He spun to face her.
“How did John Hunter know to go to Beaver Falls? How did he find us?”
“I ... I don’t know,” she stammered.
He plucked her electronic toy off the nightstand. “You told no one where you were going. Hunter must have tracked you electronically—maybe with this. He knows where we are this very minute.”
She snatched the GPS unit from his hand. “He gave me this. God, I’m an idiot. You’re right. He knows where we are.”
“Can we use that? Will he come here?”
“No. Or he’d be here. He must have decided it was too risky. He doesn’t know we’re alone. But he does know we’re armed. He may think he’ll have an opportunity tonight. He’s invited to Jennie’s bash—along with two hundred others.”
Wolf’s mind churned. “Let’s go back to Hunter’s motive. Why did he want Onward to bomb the graduation ceremonies? According to my secretary, he has a chip on his shoulder about his dad giving so much money to BRU before his bankruptcy.”
Her forehead creased. “I didn’t know that. But I can’t see an old grudge as motive. The man’s no zealot. The bombing had to offer personal gain. But how? He’s a defense contractor. BRU has squat to do with the military, not even research. We’re a liberal arts college.”
Wolf ran through scenarios as if he were crafting a plot for a novel. “It’s not what.” He stared at Riley. “It’s who. Hunter needs to eliminate someone he was certain would attend graduation. He wanted the death to look like collateral damage.”
Riley finished his thought. “Uncle Ed. It has to be. John wants the Chairman of the Senate Armed Forces Committee dead. But why?”
She collapsed onto the bed.
He sat beside her, took her hand. “Think our hypothesis might nudge your uncle to open his eyes, see things your way?”
Riley squeezed his hand. “It sounds so preposterous. I’m not sure Uncle Ed will buy it. But I may know how to light a fire under John Hunter. Force his hand. God help me, we’ll break a dozen laws.”