Chapter 14
Iget home to messages from Gray asking me to call immediately. He must have found some information about the warehouse, and I don’t hesitate to dial his number.
Gray doesn’t even bother with a hello, launching into what he needs to say. “The warehouse has been abandoned for years. The state bought the land from a logging company in the eighties, and it’s been unused since.”
“Great,” I mumble.
Another dead end.
“As for the car,” he continues, “I couldn’t find anything but the make and model of it. It’s unregistered.”
That’s not surprising, but my heart still sinks. I’d had some hope that something would turn up—any sort of lead.
“Thanks,” I say, trying not to sound disappointed.
Gray is silent for a few seconds, and I realize that I’m starting to understand him a little better. I know he’s not the best at expressing sympathy, but he tries.
“We’ll figure it out. At least you know what to look out for now.” He tries to sound optimistic but ends up sounding overly so.
I smile into the phone. “I know we will.”
And somehow, I believe it. I’m not alone in this. I have Ella, Dec, and now Gray. And in some roundabout way, I also know I have Jax and Evan on my side.
But when I think about Owen, I can’t shake the odd sense of doom. I can’t tell if the feeling is aimed at Owen or me. Probably both.
“Any leads on the evidence?” Gray asks, and I know it’s because we need a win when everything else is turning into a dead end. He hasn’t asked me about the trial again. He has to be nervous.
I desperately wish I could ease his fears with the trial and Owen’s case. But the reality is, I’m drowning in uncertainty.
“A few,” I lie because I can’t stand to disappoint him.
There’s a short pause, and I hear him shuffling around on the other end of the line. I wonder where he is and if he’s alone.
It never occurred to me to ask about his personal life.
“Hey, Gray?”
“Mmm?” he mumbles as though he’s pressed the phone between his ear and shoulder.
“You have a girl? Or guy? A family? I feel horrible having never asked you.”
Another pause has me second-guessing my question. Perhaps it was too personal.
“Not currently.” He doesn’t give me any more information, and I don’t want to push, but when I’m about to say goodbye, he whispers, “She died of cancer a year ago.”
Oh, fuck.
I’m such an ass. I should’ve known.
Everyone at the CIA knows about what happened to my dad and why I joined the CIA in the first place. No one asks about it, but they’re at least aware. Here I am, not even realizing my new partner lost someone, too.
“That shit sticks with you. I’m so sorry, Gray.” It’s all I can offer, though I know it will never be sufficient. The hole they leave in your chest never quite goes away, no matter how much time has elapsed.
“Thanks, Nova,” he replies softly. There’s another long pause before he adds, “It’s been an honor to work with you. Your strength in the face of adversity is admirable—inspirational.”
My chest constricts. I’m no role model. I have anger issues, and I’m pretty sure I joined the CIA for revenge, chasing some unattainable justice.
“Get some sleep, Gray,” I say instead of telling him about all the insecurities that have lived with me since the day my dad died.
“Only if you do.” He chuckles, a bit of lightness returning to his voice.
“I’ll try,” I reply, though I’m sure he knows it’s not true.
Not five minutes after I hang up the phone with Gray, Ella calls.
“Eagan found an interesting lead,” she begins, her tone far too casual, which has me sitting up straighter.
I wait for her to continue, but she’s intent on drawing out the drama.
“Ella,” I grind out.
“The third company—and third victim—has been involved in some major cover-ups. Hushed lawsuits, employees disappearing. That kind of thing.”
“What were they trying to hide?”
There’s a long silence on the other end. “They covered their tracks well, but Eagan discovered some encrypted sites with discussion on the company. Human trafficking, drugs, and sexual assault were all mentioned.”
Somehow, her revelation doesn’t surprise me, but I let her finish.
“Eagan also found the name of a whistleblower that apparently the company tried to get rid of, but the person disappeared.”
My body tenses, and my question comes out so hopeful that it’s barely a whisper. “Do you have a location?”
I can almost hear Ella beaming on the other line. “Yes.”
I jump out of bed, even though it’s ten at night and I can’t be sure the person is still in the area. They’re likely halfway across the world if what Ella is saying is true.
“Want to hear the good news first? Or the bad?” she asks.
I frown but pull on black leggings and a fitted, long-sleeve, black shirt, sweeping my hair up in a ponytail. “Bad.”
“They have one hell of a security system, and the house is out of comm range.”
I swear under my breath. “And the good?”
“It’s within driving distance.”
Pausing by the large window in my bedroom that overlooks the Bay Bridge, I consider my options.
“You’re planning on going tonight.” It isn’t a question, and I can hear the resignation in Ella’s voice.
“What? No lecture?” I try to lighten the mood.
“As if you’ve ever listened to my lectures.” I can almost hear her eye roll.
Owing her an explanation, or perhaps an excuse, I say, “I can’t wait. I’m almost positive Owen isn’t safe, and if this person has any information, I need it as soon as possible.”
There’s a long pause on the other end of the line before Ella puffs out an exasperated breath. “So we’re saving your target now?”
It’s such a loaded question. I don’t know how to answer her, and my silence is telling.
Ella sighs. “Listen, Nova, I’m not just your assistant. I’m your friend, and from what Eagan has dug up, I know these companies are scum and we’re better off without them.” She pauses. “But…he killed them.”
“We don’t know that,” I respond quickly. Too quickly. Ella immediately catches on.
“No, you’re right,” she says, her tone chastising. “But he’s suspected of it, and you’re supposed to be getting the evidence to prove it. Not off chasing bad guys that don’t have anything to do with your actual assignment.”
I let out a frustrated growl, and Ella chuckles. “I know that sound, and I’m damn glad I’m on the phone and not with you right now, otherwise I’d have to explain a black eye to Dec tomorrow.”
“I’d never punch you.”
“No, only use another unsuspecting hard object.”
That gets me to smile, and I relent. “I understand your concern.” When she snorts, I choose to ignore it and continue, “And I’m still trying to find the evidence, but I can’t just let this go. And no, it’s not about Owen. It’s about my safety, too. It’s about getting all the bad guys.”
“Oh, we’re using first names now?” Ella quips.
I refrain from commenting, and say instead, “I won’t try if it’s too dangerous. I promise.”
Ella sighs again. “I’m giving you one hour once you’re there, and then I’m calling Dec and sending a team in.”
I grin, because that’s more than I deserve. “Thanks, Ella. I owe you one.”
“You owe me a trillion, but who’s counting?”
I laugh. “See you on the other side.”
A grunt is all I get in response, and by the time I hang up the phone, I’m already heading inland to the coordinates Ella gave me, to what I hope will provide me answers. The problem is: I don’t know what I need.
I push down the questions and the thoughts that follow. I’ve done this many times before in my life and career. It’s easier to get the job done when you leave the emotion behind.
But for the first time since joining the CIA, I’m having a difficult time doing that.
Ella wasn’t lying. The whistleblower’s house is so far from civilization that I find myself driving for over an hour on an overgrown dirt path. I lost cell service thirty minutes ago, and there isn’t a light to be seen for miles.
Knowing this person also has an intense security system and I’m quickly approaching the house, I slow the car, keeping my eyes peeled for the telltale signs of cameras, bugs, and other tech traps. I don’t want an unsuspecting bullet through my head.
I brace for anything.
For a time, I feel like Ella was wrong about the security, but soon there’s a disturbance in the dirt beside the road. I’ve been trained to spot any sign that a place has had human interference, and though it's subtle, I notice the slight imprint of a boot.
I stop the car and get out, straining to hear any sign that I’m not alone. The forest around me is alive with the chorus of crickets and frogs, but there are no sounds of human activity.
Bending down, I study the print. It looks new. Made within the last day or two. I follow the direction it points to and find bent bushes. A few branches look to have broken off. The cut seems new.
The path stops at a large tree, and, sure enough, there’s a camera posted ten feet off the ground.
I pull out a tool I’ve used often. It mimics the way a tree rat might chew through a camera wire.
Cutting it, the faint red light flickers out of existence.
Heading back the way I came, I make sure not to disturb the area further.
I abandon the car, needing my full senses to find other security traps. As I anticipated, there are a few more cameras, but instead of cutting the wires and raising an alarm, I skirt around them through the forest, careful not to make any noise or leave behind any evidence.
A few more minutes of maneuvering around the extensive system, and the house finally comes into view.
There’s a light outside, illuminating the front porch, but otherwise, the house looks almost abandoned.
It’s small and brown, blending in with the surrounding trees.
There is no garden or any potted plants.
The only sign that the place isn’t completely abandoned is the footpath that leads from the house to the detached garage.
Tire tracks indicate the person has left recently, but the grooves aren’t deep.
This person doesn’t go out often.