Chapter 9 #2
"Julia, Samantha's sister, gave me your number.
I didn't tell her what happened because she was already upset.
" Claire paused, her gaze searching. "I want to know if what happened in the restaurant is tied to the bombing.
I keep thinking it isn't possible because other people were also injured.
My husband told me I should stay out of it.
If it was about that guy, maybe I could be in danger, and that danger would come to him, to our kids…
" Claire gave them a look pleading for understanding, absolution.
"I didn't know what to do. But I haven't had a good night's sleep since that bomb went off.
" Claire blew out a breath. "Anyway, that's what I wanted to say. "
"Is there anything else?" Kara asked.
"No. That's all of it. Maybe the manager at the restaurant or one of the waiters could verify what happened. I know people were watching."
"Bistro Verde, you said?" Max asked.
She nodded. "It was last Friday, just three days before everything happened."
The day and time helped, Kara thought. Hopefully, there were some cameras near the bistro that could help identify that person.
"I have to go," Claire said, sliding out of the booth.
Max got up, barring her from leaving immediately. "One second, Claire. Kara may need you to look at footage we can find from the restaurant to help us identify that man."
"I don't really want to be more involved."
"It will be completely private. No one will know you helped us," she said, a little surprised that Max had taken the initiative, but glad that he had.
"Okay. You have my number," she said as she hurried away.
Max moved around the table and sat down across from her. "What do you think?"
"We need to find that man," she said, already texting the information to her team so that they could start looking for him. "This could be the break we've been looking for." She finished texting, then lifted her gaze to his. "Thank you for including me. You didn't have to."
"I thought it might help. I'm not your enemy."
"You have been more helpful than I expected, but I still don't completely trust you."
"Well, I don't completely trust you either," he returned.
His comment surprised her. "Why not? I've been completely transparent with you."
"I doubt that." He paused. "I have a friend in the NYPD. He said you weren't a very popular cop."
"You looked me up?"
"I asked a few questions. It's not like you haven't been trying to find out about my past."
"But your past is redacted. And mine is not. I'm sure you know exactly why I wasn't popular."
"I'd like to hear about it from you."
She paused as the server returned to ask if they wanted to order anything else. "I'll take a chicken Caesar salad," she said. If she were going to talk about her past, she might as well have lunch while she was doing it.
"I'll take the French dip." As the server left, he said, "Since we'll be waiting for our lunch, this seems like a good time to talk."
"I'll tell you what happened. And then you're going to answer one of my questions."
He shrugged. "Let's see how it goes."
"After almost eight years in the NYPD, I made detective after closing a big case, which was very exciting. Unfortunately, the seasoned and cynical detective I was assigned to work with did not share my enthusiasm."
"Because you're a woman?"
"It was more because I wasn't someone who was going to look the other way.
Three months into our assigned partnership, which was almost two years ago now, we started working on a joint interagency case with the FBI and the DEA that involved drugs and money laundering.
During the investigation, I realized that my partner had stolen money and drugs from a stash house.
I turned him in, and he and his friends turned on me.
I'd broken the code. Not only because I'd reported him to Internal Affairs, but because I'd also talked to the FBI and the DEA. "
"You had no choice. If you hadn't turned him in, you could have been charged as a co-conspirator."
"If anyone had ever found out, which they might not have," she said candidly.
"And to be completely honest, there were other, far more dangerous, far more violent people to take down, which was repeatedly stated to me after the fact.
That I had ruined the career of a man who had been on the force for over a decade, who had been overworked and underpaid, was unforgivable.
And he had been overworked and underpaid, but that's the job we all signed up for.
I couldn't let him walk away because he would have kept committing crimes, and that's not why I became a cop. "
Max nodded, a gleam of respect in his eyes. "That was brave."
"And a career killer. No one wanted to work with me after that.
Even the people who knew me well, who privately said I was right, felt tainted by any connection to me.
My fellow officers said I was too self-righteous, too ambitious, that I just wanted to get him out of the way so I could rise in the ranks.
The smear campaign was superb," she said, unable to hide the bitterness in her voice.
"I started to feel like I had done the wrong thing. "
"But you hadn't. Surely, there were some people on your side."
"More than came forward publicly. It was a tough time for me, and when one of the FBI agents I had worked with on the case suggested I join the bureau, I said yes."
"Sounds like you ended up in a better place."
"In some ways." She frowned. "I don't want to give you the wrong idea.
There are more good people than bad in the police department, and some incredibly smart and brave unsung heroes.
I just ran into one bad cop and some of his unforgiving friends.
But I have a lot of respect for the NYPD, and I loved working there for a long time, but that time was over. "
"And what do you think about working for the bureau? Although you're working for some special team, aren't you?"
She was surprised at how much he actually knew about her. She'd been so focused on finding out about him she hadn't really thought about him wanting to know more about her. "Yes, I recently joined a special unit that moves more quickly and with less red tape."
"How did you manage that?"
"I guess I impressed a few people."
"Well, that doesn't surprise me."
"I don't know why you'd say that. I don't feel like I've done anything impressive on this case. It's been three days, and I'm still trying to find a lead that will help us find the bomber."
"You found Jonas Cray."
"Too late," she said.
"But we were close." He paused, his gaze shifting. "It is odd how close we were."
"As in you think someone realized we'd found Jonas?" She wiped her mouth with her napkin as she considered that. "We went to the gym. We talked to Elias and Spencer. And then we hit the Crimson Club."
"And Ava told us where to find him," Max finished. "But I don't think there was enough time between our appearance there and someone silencing Jonas before we could talk to him."
"It had to have been someone from the gym. And Elias Costa has basically disappeared, so that makes him look guilty."
"Well, it is also possible that the plan was always to take Jonas out. He was the one with the most visibility in the café. If he's dead, and the trail goes to him, then it ends there."
"We've been looking for Cal, but we haven't spotted him anywhere in the area." She picked up her fork and made her way through her salad as they both ate for a few minutes.
When she finished, she took a sip of iced tea and said, "I think it's your turn to talk."
He gave a heavy sigh as he sat back on the bench. "What's the question?"
"Same one I asked before. Why did you leave the CIA? And this time, I want the real reason."
"Everything I did for the agency was classified, Kara. That is the truth."
"Then paint a picture in broad strokes that won't break any laws."
He thought about that for a moment, clearly conflicted, then he said, "I brought in someone I'd been chasing for a long time, someone who had hurt many people.
I thought I'd finally get justice. But this individual made a deal with the powers that be, suggesting he would be a better asset than an inmate. "
"So they let him go?"
"Yes. They sent him back into the field. He had a handler, of course, and he was under threat of immediate confinement if he stepped over a line." Anger burned through his green eyes. "He agreed. And I quit."
"I can understand why you did that. Has he stayed behind that line?"
"No. Two months after he made the deal, he vanished. No one has seen him since, and it's believed he's now leading a terror network that has gotten a lot more dangerous with him in it."
"I'm sorry. That's terrible," she said, realizing that the man who had almost seemed completely devoid of emotion since she'd met him actually had a lot of rage hiding just under the surface. "The agency must be trying to catch him."
"Well, it took me five years to catch him the first time, so who knows how long it will take this time."
"Did the agency try to get you to stay?"
"They wanted to reassign me, but I was done.
Logically, I know that intelligence works better with embedded assets, but there are some people too evil to be turned, and I knew all along that no matter what he said, he would never work with us.
They said it was a calculated risk. I don't think they calculated a damn thing.
" He picked up his coffee mug and took a drink.
"When did you decide to work with Dominic?" she asked.
He suddenly smiled. "I already answered your question. You don't get another one."
"Fine. I have to get back to work. Let's get the check." She'd no sooner finished speaking when the server dropped off their bill.
"I've got this," he said. "My turn."
She shrugged as he put down cash, and then they walked out of the diner together.
It was a wintry afternoon with a gray sky threatening rain or possibly snow. She zipped up her jacket. "Did you drive?"
He nodded. "I'm parked that way. Kara—"
"What?" she asked warily, not liking the look in his gaze.
"What you did at the NYPD took a lot of guts. I'm impressed."
His words warmed her soul. "Thanks."
"I think your choice to leave an agency that you couldn't believe in anymore was also brave."
"Some would say I threw my entire career away."
"Well, maybe you did. But I reinvented myself, and it looks like you're doing the same." She paused. "Although I have to say there's still something about your one and only job with Dominic that doesn't ring quite true to me."
"You're a very suspicious person."
"And I suspect," she said, playing on his word, "that you have secrets."
"Everyone has secrets."
"That's true. I just want to believe that those secrets aren't part of a hidden agenda that's going to prevent me from finding out what really happened to Samantha."
"I want to find out what happened to her, too."
"What if the truth becomes a problem for your old friend, Dominic?"
"I don't think that will happen."
Before she could ask him what he would do if it did, her phone buzzed. She took it out to read a message from her team.
"Is that about Samantha?" Max asked.
"Yes. My team pulled security footage from Bistro Verde, and it looks like the man who threatened Samantha is Vincent Castellano, a mechanic at a Jersey automotive shop owned by the Petroysan Group.
" She looked up at Max. "Tyler is headed to his apartment now.
It looks like this is about Samantha's current case. "
"Do you have the address? Should we meet him there?"
"I don't think we need to do anything," she countered.
"I just got you the lead. Don't cut me out."
Before she could respond, the earth rocked beneath her feet with a massive blast. She stumbled forward, Max's hand catching her arm to steady her.
Ears ringing, heart pounding, she turned her head to see people running down the street toward them, screaming as shards of debris fell from the sky and thick black smoke rose into the sky from only a few blocks away.
She sprinted toward the chaos, with Max right next to her. She had no idea what they would find when they eventually turned the corner…