40. Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty
“You’re late.” Joe Schmidt was flustered, his skin flushed, scowling at Kathleen as she walked toward the small crowd that had gathered outside the apartment Finn had scoped and set up.
She saw the way Schmidt’s eyes flickered over her outfit—not her usual jeans-and-jacket combination, but a sundress.
The dress was bright yellow, and Kathleen had worn it for Finn. Not just for him to admire—though she secretly admitted it was a small factor—but so that he could easily identify her through the window from his perch across the street.
Compared to the Federal agent’s crisp suit and shiny shoes, they were night and day, and she was totally okay with that. Today, she was holding all the cards.
Besides, the delicious encounter Finn and Kathleen had just had left her blissfully buzzed. The pleasant ache between her legs was a reminder of how recently he had been inside of her.
“Sorry,” Kathleen said, but her gaze directed the apology to her boss, Captain Samantha Murphy, and her partner, Gibson. “I had to stop and pick up an owed gift.” The bag she was carrying clinked as she offered it to Gibson.
To say Gibson’s dark brown eyes lit up was an understatement. The grin that split his face as he peered inside at the bottles of whiskey and whistled was well worth the hefty price she had paid.
“You came through, Harper.”
“Always.”
The detectives grinned at each other.
“Not to interrupt, but… I assume you didn’t call me down here to hand out gifts?”
Schmidt was losing his cool, impatience fraying his nerves. Kathleen made no attempt to ease his mood. If what Wilson said about him was true, this would save his already failing career.
“Let’s sit down,” Kathleen suggested as she unlocked the door and led them into the apartment. “You brought the laptop, Gibson?”
“Right here,” he answered, lifting it.
“All right. Ma’am, sir.” Kathleen nodded to her Captain and Schmidt. “Why don’t you take the couch? You need to see these.”
The pleased click of the tongue she heard in her ear told her that Finn had the pair in his line of sight. She wondered whether his finger came near the trigger of the rifle he was using to sight them or not. Was it habit? An urge he had to fight to restrain? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. Even the thought of it made her shiver. She couldn’t guess whether it was fear or delight. It always felt so intimate having him in her ear; knowing he could watch every movement made it more so.
Kathleen settled into the armchair Finn had placed on the right; Gibson sat opposite her. She produced a USB stick and plugged it into the laptop, pressing a few keys to bring up the photos.
“That,” Kathleen said, “Is Michael Milford.” Was. But she couldn’t admit that. “He’s an agent—or what they call a Handler—of the government-funded black ops agency known as Special Operations Covert Command.”
Schmidt’s reaction was immediate. He froze, staring at the photo of Milford in his high visibility vest, then over to her. His fingers twitched with barely suppressed excitement.
“Tell me everything,” he demanded.
Kathleen glanced at Murphy. The older woman’s expression was far more reserved; Schmidt’s excitement had her wary, and for good reason. After a second, she nodded her approval for Kathleen to continue.
“I witnessed this interaction between Schmidt and someone else you’ll recognize. Here.” Kathleen flipped to the next photo, and Wyatt Wilson’s face was clearly visible, his mouth drawn into a line, eyes narrowed.
This time, Murphy was the one to react. The Captain exhaled a breath and darted a look Kathleen’s way. When the detective nodded, the older woman let out another slow sigh. She knew—as Kathleen did—this was going to be a political headache.
Which was why Kathleen had invited Schmidt, though. “Governor Wyatt Wilson,” the Homeland agent said. “But… photos of him meeting with an unidentified man do nothing.”
Kathleen hit ‘play’ on the audio recording.
The second Schmidt heard Wyatt Wilson’s voice, his entire demeanor altered. He went from attempted reserve to outright delight.
“Back it up. Play it again,” he demanded when it finished.
Kathleen did so, silent the whole time. Once it had played twice over, he blew out a breath.
“This is some find. How did you come by it, Detective Harper?”
“By way of an acquaintance. And no, I won’t introduce you.”
Schmidt scowled, his expression darkening. “It’s past time you played ball with me, Harper.”
“Detective Harper,” Murphy reminded smoothly. “And might I remind you she’s under no obligation to hand such evidence over to you? The Hayden murder case is still ours.”
“For now,” Schmidt uttered.
“Still.” Murphy’s voice had a hardness Kathleen recognized. She was angry—at Kathleen. The Captain kept her gaze on the detective. “And just when were you going to share that you were the target of an attempted assassination?”
Ah, shit. So much had happened that Kathleen had forgotten she hadn’t yet shared that with her Captain.
“It all happened in quick succession, ma’am. Today was really the first chance I had to bring it all to your attention.”
The way Murphy looked at Kathleen called her on her bullshit. There was no way she would dress her detective down in front of a Fed. Still, the older woman’s sharp gaze promised a deserved talking-to later.
“Do we know where this Michael Milford is?” Murphy asked. “If we can nail him down as a witness…”
“No, ma’am.” Kathleen held her boss’s gaze. She couldn’t say whether the older woman bought the lie, but after a second, Murphy glanced Schmidt’s way.
“Without this Milford character, there’s nothing tying the Governor to Special Operations Covert Command,” Schmidt said, frowning. “And considering there’s not even any records of SOCC existing—this is a tough sell.”
“Then we nail him on conspiracy to murder charges,” Gibson suggested.
“It’s a start. He’s back on the campaign trail, which means he’s public, and he can't afford to let even a whisper of this get out. With this.” Schmidt gestured to the laptop. “I can start to get some real resources. Enough to put pressure on him.”
“You won’t keep him nailed down for long,” Kathleen said. “Wilson’s a politician and the worst kind at that. This is what they do—avoid consequences.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Schmidt said with a fleeting, wintry smile. “But I can make it uncomfortable for him a while, bury him in lawyers and paperwork.” He paused, looking at Kathleen. “Enough to get him off your back for the time being, Detective Harper.”
“And then what?”
“And then… you come and work for me. You and your… acquaintance,” Schmidt continued.
Kathleen heard Finn’s soft exhalation of breath. She wondered if he had the sight settled on Schmidt. Probably. She was careful to keep her expression from confirming Schmidt’s guess.
“We can do it as an unofficial secondment if Captain Murphy agrees,” Schmidt added when she said nothing.
“You share your information, you share your resources… I’ll think about it,” Murphy countered.
The Captain’s diffidence made Kathleen smile, though the detective struggled to hide it. The older woman didn’t like anyone messing in her business, Feds most of all. But Murphy knew how to play the game as well as anyone of her rank.
Sink or swim.