“Sam? Talk to me.”

“I’m here, babe. I’m just thinking.” She set her coffee on top of Fletcher’s vehicle, opened the door. And then it hit her, where she’d seen the name, and her blood went cold. The list of Amanda’s aliases. Juliet Bouchard was one of them.

“Xander. I know who she is. And I know where she is.”

“Tell me, right now. I need to lock her down.”

“You’re too late. The woman’s real name is Amanda Souleyret. And she’s in the morgue.”

* * *

Sam put Xander on the speaker and filled him in on everything she knew as Fletcher drove them to Bromley’s office. He absorbed the story, asking only one question.

“Do you have any idea who might have killed Souleyret?”

“There’s only one suspect right now. Her sister, Robin,” Fletcher answered.

“The spook? Great. Where exactly is Robin Souleyret?”

Sam glanced at Fletcher. “That’s what we want to know.”

“Listen, can you do some background on Denon, see if he has any official ties to Souleyret or the State Department? Might save us some time, if we can find the name of the company Amanda was investigating in Denon’s files,” Fletcher said. “Look at Regina Girabaldi, too.”

Xander whistled. “That Girabaldi?”

“Yes. She’s into this, we just don’t know in what capacity.”

“I’ll add her to the mix. Listen, though the threat level might have gone down if Souleyret is dead, someone killed her, and until you find the sister, I won’t be sitting easy. I’m not kidding when I say keep Sam close, Fletcher.”

“You know I will,” he replied. “We’re at Bromley’s office right now. We’ll touch base when we get out.”

“One more thing. Bouchard—Amanda Souleyret—she suggested Denon hire me and Chalk to do his protection detail here in the States. Souleyret may have involved us for some reason, and if she did, I intend to find out exactly why. We’re looking into everything he’s done since he set foot on our soil. She may have involved you on purpose, too, Sam. Made sure you’d be called in to work this case. Please be careful.”

“I hear you, though I think I’m simply a coincidence. Baldwin put me on the case because he was tied up on another.”

“This woman was murdered a block from our house. That’s one hell of a coincidence.”

“Not everything is a conspiracy, Xander. Cattafi happened to live near the school I teach at, one he attended himself. This isn’t Timothy Savage all over again.”

“Just be aware, hon. I killed a guy this morning. The media’s already tracked me here. How long do you think it will take them to start putting the parts together?”

“Then we’ll work faster. You mind your six, soldier.”

She heard a snort of amusement. “Since it’s such a pretty six, I will do my best.”

She hung up and looked at Fletcher. “Some good news there.”

“What? That the media is hounding your boyfriend?” he said, pulling up to the curb.

“No, goof. If Amanda brought the vials in on Denon’s plane, they mustn’t be dangerous in and of themselves. If we’d found out she’d brought them stowed in a specialized container, or taken clear precautions to negate the danger, I’d be much more worried. She must have had them in her bags, perhaps in a small cooler. I think Denon and his people would have noticed if she were trying to hide something lethal.”

“We’ll want to ask, but I hope you’re right, Sam. I’ve got a headache just thinking about those diseases.”

She looked him over, concerned, but he smiled. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing some Advil won’t fix. Do you have any?”

She fished a bottle from her bag, dumped two in his hand. He downed them, then tossed a POLICE card on the dash of his car. “Let’s do this.”

Sam glanced around before she got out of the car, just in case. She saw nothing out of place. The street was crawling with coeds and businesspeople and runners, all wrapping up their afternoons, beginning the slow march into night. The normalcy hid a multitude of sinners, and she didn’t feel entirely safe until they’d gone through the revolving doors and entered the cool lobby of Bromley’s building.

There was a metal detector, two guards standing near it and a workman in a leather tool belt perched on a small ladder, the mechanism panel pulled off to show dangling wires. More guards were at the desk; they were all on alert.

Fletcher badged them, jerked a head toward the repairs. “Problems?”

“As always. Who’re you here to see?”

“Dr. David Bromley.”

“Fourth floor. Mind signing in?”

Sam reached for the pen. She scanned the list of names as she wrote hers down. Something was odd. The list had a Fred Horace, a Jennifer Wilde, then a Jorace Filde.

“Fletcher. Look at this.”

She pointed at the name. His brows pulled together. “Weird.”

“Purposeful? Or am I just being totally paranoid?”

“You’re being appropriately paranoid.” He signaled to the guard. “Do you remember these people? Do you have any identification on them?”

“Just the cameras.” He pointed to the camera over the desk. “Don’t know if it’s working, though. Pretty much everything electronic on the first floor got all kinds of wonky this afternoon.”

Fletcher tapped his fingers on the counter. “We’re going up to Bromley’s office. You pull the camera feed for this time slot. I need to see who this person is.”

The guard looked exceedingly uncomfortable. “Uh, sir, do you have a warrant? ’Cause the building management won’t like that a bit.”

“Get on the phone with them, tell them we’re looking for a murder suspect who may have been in the building. And if they give you any crap, come up and get me. I’ll talk to them directly. Can you do that?”

He nodded. “Why not? Everything else around here is screwy today.”

Fletcher motioned for Sam to follow him, and they went to the elevators. Once the doors were closed, he said, “Good catch. Think Robin has been here already?”

“It stands to reason. First she visits her sister’s town house, then Cattafi, then stops here? I’d say she’s looking for something.”

They were whisked up to the fourth floor, out into the tan carpeted fluorescently lit hallway. Bromley’s office was halfway down the hall. The door was locked. Fletcher banged on it a few times, but no one answered.

“Damn it. Not answering the phone, not answering the door. Where the hell is this guy?”

“Fletcher. We’d better get security to let us in.”

He turned to her. “Why?”

Sam pointed at the floor. There was a small smudge of red on the carpet.

“Aww...shit.”

Chapter 40

Bromley’s office

THE INTERIOR OF Bromley’s office was splashed with a vivid red. They could see a body from the doorway. The scent of blood was rich and fresh in the air—whoever this was, he hadn’t been dead for very long. He was young with black hair, and Sam knew from the photos on the wall he wasn’t David Bromley.

While Fletcher called it in, Sam edged carefully into the room, taking gloves from her pocket. She used her phone to take a few pictures, wanting to preserve the integrity of the room as much as possible before they stepped inside.

Fletcher grabbed her arm, making her jump. He whispered in her ear. “You, stop. Stay right here. I need to make sure we don’t have any company.”

She nodded, let him lead the way. He had his gun out. When the guard from downstairs arrived, they cleared the office. She stood watching the dead body in the outer office, saw his twisted leg, the gunshot to his knee, his crushed face, the disarray. There’d been a huge fight here, and he’d lost. The question was, who the hell was he, and who had he encountered?

And if this was Robin Souleyret’s work, they needed more gun power. Maybe a couple of Abrams battle tanks.

A few moments later, Fletcher called out to Sam, “Come back here, carefully.”

She followed his voice down the hall, and found him standing over another body.