Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Thursday morning started with frustration.
After a sleepless night tossing and turning, her mind racing with clues that seemed to lead nowhere and an increasingly long list of suspects, not to mention a hot memory of a kiss that had shaken her to her core, Kara had dragged herself out of bed and down to the office.
But the morning briefing had only added to her feeling of restlessness.
Sitting in the Strike Team conference room, listening to updates that felt more like a list of dead ends than progress, she couldn't believe that it had been three days since the bombing and they still had no idea who the perpetrator was or the motive behind the attack.
Samantha Barkley remained in critical condition. Jonas Cray's phone had yielded nothing useful. Tracking down the elusive "Cal" who might have murdered Jonas had also led nowhere. Cray's building had no security cameras, and so far, Cal had not been spotted walking around the area.
"Tyler, what about the Novik brothers?" Jason asked, interrupting her thoughts.
"I went to the Crimson Club last night," Tyler said. "Neither Alex nor Sergei Novik was there. The manager said Alex was out of town, and Sergei is rarely at the club. I left my number. I haven't heard back."
"What about Sergei Novik's construction company?" Jason asked.
"Offices are in Midtown, but Novik is traveling. His assistant said I'd need to go through his attorney for any meetings." Tyler's frustration was clear. "His attorney has also not returned my calls."
"What about Elias Costa at Forge Fitness?" she asked.
"The gym said Costa is on vacation. Won't say when he'll be back."
"So everyone is disappearing," she muttered.
Jason turned to Alina. "Any progress on the bomb components?"
"ATF traced the materials to three different suppliers across two states. All purchased with cash over the past six months. No security footage, no leads."
"And Samantha's case files?" Jason continued.
"The DA's office is still deciding how many files to send over, but we have some information on the current case," Alina replied.
"It involves an accounting firm accused of fraud on behalf of their clients.
The biggest name on the client list belongs to Armen Petroysan, as Kara mentioned the other day.
But there's no sign Samantha had any personal contact with him. "
"What about her phone?" Kara asked. "Are we into it yet?"
"Unlocked it this morning," Wes said. "Going through it now, but preliminary review shows normal texts and calls. Work stuff, personal messages with Dominic and her sister. The one text to Max Malone about meeting at the café. But they had no further contact."
"All right, let's keep digging," Jason said. "Someone wanted Samantha Barkley dead, and they're still out there. Jonas Cray's murder proves they're willing to kill to cover their tracks."
The team dispersed, and Kara returned to her desk, feeling the weight of too many questions and not nearly enough answers.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Max: Need to meet. May have a potential lead.
She stared at the message, then typed: What is it?
Not sure. Meeting at one thirty with one of Samantha's friends, if you want to join.
I'm in, she typed.
Max texted her the address for a diner in Chelsea. As she jumped to her feet, Tyler looked up from the computer next to her. "Did you get something?"
"I'm not sure. Max says he's meeting with one of Samantha's friends and invited me to join him, so I'm going. I'll text you when I know more."
Lou's Place was a classic New York diner—vinyl booths, laminate tables, and a menu that probably hadn't changed in a couple of decades.
Max was already there when Kara arrived, sitting in a back booth with a cup of coffee in front of him.
He was gazing down at his phone, which gave her a moment to see him without him seeing her, to quickly relive last night's unexpectedly passionate kiss, one that should never be repeated.
He lifted his head, as if sensing her stare, and she gave him a brief smile and then slid into the booth across from him. "Hi."
"Hello," he said, his sexy mouth curving into a smile that made her heart thump against her chest.
She'd spent most of the night trying to tell herself he was really not that good-looking, the kisses they'd shared had not been that great, that it had just been too much expensive champagne…
but all those excuses seemed completely stupid now that she was sitting across from him again and feeling that same surge of desire that had made her act so recklessly the night before.
His gaze darkened, and she realized too late that she was staring at him. Judging by the expression in his stunning green eyes, he knew exactly what she was thinking.
Clearing her throat, she said, "So, I'm here."
"I can see that."
She felt like a fool for suddenly feeling so tongue-tied. For God's sake, she was a federal agent, and she was meeting him because he had a lead on a case. She needed to get a grip. "Who are we meeting?"
"Claire Donnelly," he said. "You should probably sit on this side with me, so we can both see her face, assess what she has to say."
The last thing she wanted to do was slip onto that bench seat next to him. "I'll move when she gets here."
A knowing gleam entered her eyes. "Afraid you might kiss me again?"
"You kissed me."
"I think you made the first move."
"I did not. And I don't want to talk about it. It was a mistake."
"It was good," he countered. "Memorable."
The word only made her feel more unsettled. "Let's keep this professional. Last night was last night. It's business from here on out."
"You've never mixed business and pleasure?" he teased.
"No," she said flatly. "I don't mix the two. And I'm not starting now."
"Maybe later."
She sighed and forced a change in subject. "Tell me more about Claire Donnelly and why she wants to talk to you."
He sat back in his seat, gave her a thoughtful look, and then, thankfully, answered her question.
"She said she might have information about someone who was threatening Samantha. She apparently knew Samantha had wanted to meet with me that day, so she wanted to talk to me and not to the FBI. She may try to bolt once she realizes who you are."
"I'll make sure that doesn't happen. What's her relationship to Samantha?"
"Former college roommate. She moved to New York last year, and they reconnected. They had lunch together last week."
"And she knew you were meeting with Samantha. It's interesting that Samantha would tell her that. Hopefully, she told her more." The server came over to the table, pausing their conversation.
"What can I get you?" the woman asked.
"An iced tea," she said.
"You can get lunch if you want," Max put in.
"Let's see what Claire has to say first."
"I'll take a refill," Max said as the waitress refilled his mug. "You can leave the menus."
The diner's bell chimed, and she turned to see a blonde woman enter the diner wearing casual slacks and a black sweater. She didn't seem nearly as sharp or professional as Samantha.
As the woman looked around the diner, Max got up and went to greet her. She seemed a bit startled when she saw Kara, but Max firmly ushered her to the table, waving her to the bench he'd just been sitting on and then sliding in next to her.
"Claire, this is Kara Reid with the FBI. She very much wants to help find out who hurt Samantha."
"Okay," Claire said. "I really wanted to talk to you on your own, though. I'm not sure…"
"You don't have to worry," Kara cut in, giving Claire a reassuring smile. "We all want the same thing—to find out who hurt Samantha."
"I've been going crazy," Claire said. "I'm not sure that what I saw means anything, and Samantha is so private. She'd be furious with me for sharing her business with the FBI. Plus, I kept thinking that a bomb going off like that couldn't possibly be about her."
"You're here now. Just tell us what you saw," she encouraged.
"Samantha and I were college roommates. We're both really busy, but we try to have lunch every couple of months.
Last week we met at Bistro Verde in Tribeca.
We'd been there maybe twenty minutes when this man walked up to our table and told Samantha, 'You need to stop.
' Samantha stiffened and told him to leave, and she immediately waved to the waiter to come over.
The man said, 'You'll regret it if you don't', and then he walked out. "
"Can you describe him?" Kara asked.
"He had dark hair with an olive complexion.
He was wearing gray pants and a black leather jacket.
He was probably in his forties, looked a little overweight with a beer belly.
His eyes were cold and mean. I was immediately intimidated, but Samantha didn't seem concerned.
She said if she stopped working every time someone told her she'd be sorry, she wouldn't have closed any cases.
Despite her words, I thought she was rattled. "
"And she didn't tell you what the man was threatening her about?" Max asked.
Claire shook her head. "No. She said she wasn't sure, that her current boyfriend had had some trouble lately, and it might be tied to him.
Or it could be one of her cases. I suggested she talk to the police, and she said she was going to meet with a private security guy who worked for her boyfriend about something else, but she'd bring it up with him.
After what happened, I thought I'd try to find you. "