She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Riley so angry. It made her want to kiss away the frown lines between his brows. She settled for touching his jaw lightly.
“I didn’t have a choice. But I found out something before he died. He told me James Denon had sent him after me. How is that possible? I thought Denon was on our side?”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about Denon. Let’s go. We need to get you out of the city.”
“If I run, they’ll think I’m guilty. There’s another body here. The guy who ran the lab, Bromley. He was shot earlier, though it’s been made to look like a suicide. Note and everything. He was already dead when I got here. Promise.”
She gave him a wry smile.
Riley’s green eyes glinted dangerously, then he threw his hands in the air. “So help me God, Robbie. Listen to me. If you don’t run, I’ll think you’re mad. Get moving. Down the stairs. Now.”
She resisted the urge to be flip and snap to in a salute. She cast a last glance at the body of the Frenchman, and holstered her Glock. Riley pocketed the Beretta, and they slipped out of the office toward the stairs.
This wasn’t how her day was supposed to go. Then again, she assumed Amanda had felt exactly the same way when faced with the silver power of the knife.
They got out of the building without notice. Riley marched her down the street and into his truck. Reached over and fastened her seat belt. She felt hollow and strange, the way she always did after a massive adrenaline rush, and a few choice bruises were beginning to throb. She pulled down the visor, looked in the mirror. She had the beginnings of a nice black eye; she didn’t remember receiving that particular punch.
“Where’s your car?” Riley asked.
“Back on I Street. At a meter.”
“Lola will get it. I’m taking you to my place. You’re too damn hot to go home now.”
He yanked the gearshift into Drive, and she put a hand on his leg. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have a choice.”
He looked at her strangely. “You always have a choice, Robin. He could have been of use to us.”
She retracted the hand, watched the cloud of red follow. Sat up straighter. “He wasn’t. He killed my sister, and there wasn’t any reason to keep him alive.”
“Except he didn’t kill your sister.”
The world around her pulsed red, red, red.
Chapter 39
Fletcher’s house
SAM’S PHONE RANG. It was a 202 exchange, but she didn’t recognize the number. She answered, anyway.
“Dr. Owens? Agent Owens? Uh... This is Peggy at GW. We talked earlier about Dr. Bromley?”
“Doctor is fine. Thanks for getting back to me. Were you able to find him?”
“No, ma’am, because my info was wrong. He got back into the country yesterday, and he should be at his office. I tried calling over there, but no one answered. He might have gone home because of the jet lag, but I know he likes to do some work right away when he gets back, just trying to catch up, and sometimes he turns off the phones. I left a message on his cell for him to call you, but if you really need to talk to him now, you might just head on over there and try to see him in person. If I talk to him, I’ll tell him to expect you.”
“Peggy, you deserve a raise. Thank you for following up.”
She told Fletcher.
“Good. We’re heading there now,” he said.
They sent Daniels to join the surveillance team looking for Robin Souleyret, and sent Mouse on her merry path to follow the money trail, with extreme injunctions to keep her mouth shut. She’d assured them she wouldn’t say anything to anyone—she knew which side her bread was buttered on—and had given Sam the key to the encryption codes so they could access the SD card’s multilevels of security in Fletcher’s office.
Sam was sorry to see the girl go. She was smart and funny, and had added a bit of needed levity to the day, despite the horrifying information she’d uncovered. She made a good teammate.
In the car, Fletcher got on the phone with Hart, who’d tracked down the gray Honda that had been lurking around the Cattafi crime scene, so Sam took five minutes to write up her notes, trying to prioritize. The information they were uncovering was coming fast and furious, and she wanted to be sure they had all the threads together. They needed to find Amanda’s laptop, which Sam was certain had more information on it. They needed to know who the SD card was meant for. Sam assumed it was Girabaldi, but perhaps it was for Robin Souleyret.
Why kill the renters? Why kill Amanda? Why try to take out Cattafi? And who the hell was manufacturing the superbug?
There were too many whys floating around. So much information, so many threads. They needed Bromley, needed to understand what, exactly, he and Tommy Cattafi were up to, whether they had indeed developed a vaccine against the superbug. They needed the samples Amanda had smuggled into the country themselves. They needed to find out where the hell Robin Souleyret was hiding in plain sight; Daniels’s tail had reported in that she was not at her residence. The afternoon was slipping away, and Sam was starting to get tired.
She made Fletcher stop at Starbucks so she could grab a large coffee. She offered to get him one, but he demurred, running into the market across the street for a Diet Coke. While she was in line, she called Xander.
“Where are you?” He sounded stressed, and she felt bad. He needed her. She knew just how hard this morning must have been for him, and here she was, completely caught up in this case.
“We’re at the Starbucks in Foggy Bottom. There is so much going on with this case I can barely keep it straight. Are you okay?”
“I am, but, Sam, I need you here. As soon as possible.”
He wasn’t kidding, and he wasn’t asking. She recognized his tone; he was in operational mode. Something bad was happening. “I’ll come right now. I’ll have Fletcher drop me off. He can survive without me for a while.”
Xander got quiet for a minute, then said, “No, actually, stick with Fletcher. Stick to him like glue. He can keep you safe. I trust him.”
His tone made her anxious. She stepped closer to the window, edging herself between the glass and the wall, looked outside. Living with Xander, who was a Ranger through and through despite the fact he no longer worked for the government, had instilled a sense of danger in her. She was more wary, had a different level of focus as she moved around the city, was more attuned to her surroundings. She immediately began watching to see if anyone was paying attention to her. From what she could see, no one was. She pitched her voice low. “What’s wrong, Xander? What’s going on?”
“Remember the code I gave you for your phone?”
“Yes.”
“Turn it on and call me back.”
The “code” was an encryption key that allowed her to make secure calls. He really was into something. She did as he asked, inputting the code, waiting for the dial tone to beep at her three times to indicate it was encrypted and active, then called him back.
“Okay, I’m secure. Xander, what in the world is wrong?”
“The man I killed this morning was a pro. We thought he was hired to kill my principal, James Denon.”
“You thought?”
“It’s looking like he wasn’t the target, that someone on his staff was. The problem is, we’re missing one of his people. We’re looking for her now. French national using the name Juliet Bouchard. She came in with his team three days ago, but she wasn’t with them when they were flying home, and she’s not listed on any manifests leaving the country. Nor does she have a visa on file. I’m pretty sure she’s behind the assassination attempt.”
Sam felt a punch of recognition when she heard the name. “Bouchard. Bouchard. Why does that name sound familiar?”
“You’ve heard of this woman?”
The barista at the counter called Sam’s name. “Hang on a sec, my drink’s ready.” She grabbed the coffee, dumped in cream and sugar, enough to give her a real boost, then headed back out onto the street, coffee in one hand, phone in the other. She used her bottom to push open the door.