Chapter 3 #2
The elevator dinged for the thirteenth floor of the Federal Building, the FBI’s offices, and Nic exited after Cam, close and in step but not otherwise flaunting their relationship.
Their personal one was no secret; they’d agreed no hiding.
They arrived and left together each day and ate lunch together when their schedules permitted.
But on the clock, they were professional.
They didn’t want any whiff of impropriety on the cases they worked.
Their jobs and the people they protected daily depended on it.
Aside from a few respectful nods, no one bothered them on their way across the bullpen to the war room they’d set up in the conference room between Aidan’s and Cam’s offices.
Climbing two flights of stairs multiple times a day was a small price to pay for keeping this case confined to a small, trusted circle.
Which did not include Nic’s boss, US Attorney Bowers, who they suspected was on Vaughn’s payroll.
While Bowers knew they were investigating Vaughn and had been trying to stick his nose in and block them for months, he hadn’t had access to the files or their case strategy, locked behind three doors in the Bureau’s domain.
Seeing as Bowers did everything he could to avoid Aidan, it was the safest place in the building.
They stepped inside and Lauren’s head popped up from where it had been pillowed in her arms. She gamely pretended not to have been dead to the world a second ago.
“I pulled all the records you asked for. After you texted, I couldn’t get back to sleep so I came in and got started.
” She tried and failed to pull her recently chopped hair into a ponytail, frowning.
“I was planning to run downstairs and get coffee, but now you’re early and I’m going to have to drink sludge. ”
“No, you’re not,” came a lightly accented voice behind them. Aidan breezed through the door, coffee tray in one hand, a venti iced monstrosity in the other.
“My Lucky Charm.”
Aidan cut her a mock glare, yanking back the cup. “Do you want your coffee or not?”
Nic couldn’t help but laugh, some of the tension of the past hour fading.
It faded further when Mel sashayed in on her high heels, a Visitor badge swinging on a lanyard around her neck. “There better not be tea in any of these cups,” she playfully sniped at her brother-in-law as she tugged a cup loose. She crossed behind Nic, giving his shoulder a squeeze.
The last of the tension he’d carried in his shoulders vanished.
No one had made a big deal of the past twenty-four hours.
No one acted like they should be at a wake.
No one offered fake condolences or sympathy.
Because these people—his family—knew him.
They knew he would want to get down to work and not get mired in the guilt or lack thereof that Cam had helped him wash away last night.
This morning was another day at the office, another case, and they were the best at what they did.
They were here for him in the way Nic needed them most.
Nic circled the table and claimed the chair next to Lauren. “All right,” he said once everyone else was seated. “I’m ready to move on Vaughn as soon as he steps back on US soil.”
Lauren started to say something, but Aidan cut her off with a raised hand. “Are you sure you want to move on Vaughn before you have the autopsy results?”
“Vaughn’s made his move,” Nic said.
“If Vaughn had anything to do with Curtis’s death.”
“Mary said there’s been no recent or past history of heart trouble.”
“Your father was under a lot of stress,” Mel said.
“It’s possible. But so is foul play.” Nic swiveled slightly, angling toward Cam at his side. “What do you think?”
“Vaughn’s goons were at the house this morning. Ten to one, he tipped off the press. Meaning someone tipped him off or he already knew. This was Vaughn, one way or the other. I say make your move.”
The same reasons that had led Nic to his conclusion. He glanced across the table at Mel and Aidan. They both nodded.
“Given the deposits in federal employee and witness bank accounts that we’ve linked to Vaughn, his movement of assets, and the statements we’ve collected, I have the orders from the grand jury.
” Over the past months, they’d been building their case against Duncan Vaughn—bribery, leverage, tampering, not to mention suspicion of arson and attempted murder—including a wealth of information from his nephew-in-law, who Vaughn had installed as Curtis’s assistant.
They’d extracted all the information they could from the outside.
Had enough probable cause to convince the grand jury to issue subpoenas and search warrants so Nic could get to the rest of the information he needed from the inside.
He displayed his warrants on-screen. “They’re ready to be served. ”
Cam shifted forward in his seat. “Get me the signed originals. I’ll go out to HQ this afternoon.”
“No,” Nic said, whipping his gaze back to him. “I want to be the one to do this, and I want Vaughn there for it. No serving it on his secretary or general counsel. I want him.”
“Nic,” Cam warned.
“He’s the one making this personal so I’m going to personally deliver those documents.”
Cam raised his hands palms out, backing down.
Nic turned to Lauren. “Where is he?”
She and Mel had been tracking his movements these past months while Nic, with the help of the Deputy AG, had been making contacts in various consulate offices, preparing for extradition if necessary.
“On a plane back to SFO.”
“What?” Nic squawked.
Cam chuckled behind him. “Way to hide the ball, Hall.”
It was one of her most amusing and most infuriating habits, heavy emphasis on the latter right then.
“Nuh-uh,” she said, swiping at her brown bangs. “I was going to tell you when he”—she pointed at Aidan—“interrupted me, so this one is not on me.”
Cam’s knee knocking against his under the table, together with Aidan’s who, me? face, dissolved his irritation. That and the first heady whiff of the legal kill that tickled his nose—Vaughn was finally on his way back.
“ETA?” he asked.
“Flight plan shows him landing at the private terminal at noon.”
Barring some forgery with his travel record, Vaughn had been abroad when Curtis died.
He could have had people traveling in his place with his documentation—it was a private plane after all—but they had no evidence to support that sort of scheme.
That said, even if Vaughn hadn’t pulled the proverbial trigger, if Nic and his team could prove he ordered the hit, then they had him.
“We’ll set up the welcoming committee,” Cam said.
A knock sounded on the door, and once Nic and Lauren had shut their laptops, Aidan called, “Come in.”
The door opened to the tall, massive form of Assistant Director Elton Moore.
“Price,” he said with a simple nod of his bald head.
“Caught the news this morning. Figured I might find you all here, and since I was in town this week, that I might help.” A San Francisco native who’d swiftly risen through the Bureau ranks, AD Moore was in charge of the FBI’s Northern California offices.
Nic wouldn’t say no to Moore’s help in this instance. He was a good agent and a skilled politician, for better or worse. He would know how to navigate this PR minefield better than anyone. “Thank you for coming, El.”
“Go on, please,” he said, sitting on the other side of Mel.
Once the computers were open again, Harris’s witness statement on-screen caught Nic’s attention. “Has anyone spoken to Harris since he found Curtis’s body?”
Aidan shook his head. “We took his initial statement at the scene, but he was pretty shaken up.”
“Probably ’cause he knows he could be next,” Lauren said.
“Speculation, Ms. Hall,” Nic chided.
She hid her wince behind a sip of coffee. “Sorry, still learning.” This case would be her first time testifying, and while they usually found her constant commentary endearing, the grand jury might not.
“He’s supposed to be in later this afternoon,” Aidan said. “Or make arrangements for us to meet him elsewhere if he thinks that’s safer.”
“I’d like to speak with him,” Nic said.
Aidan nodded. “I’ll text when the meet is finalized.”
“You need to serve all the warrants simultaneously,” Mel said. “Don’t give Vaughn a chance to hide, run, or destroy evidence.”
Nic agreed. “We have to time this exactly right.”
“If you two are at SFO,” Aidan said to him and Cam, “then I’ll go to HQ. As soon as you give me the green light, I’ll execute it there.”
“I’ll take the residence,” Moore said. “How broad are the warrants?”
“As broad as I could get them.”
“Weapons seizure included?”
Nic nodded. “We took illegal weapons off Vaughn’s associates last spring.” When they’d foolishly tried to jump Nic in Gravity’s parking lot.
“You collect more,” Mel said, “call the serial numbers in to me. If there’s at least a partial, I can track them. See where else they’ve been used.”
“Keep your eyes open for syringes as well,” Nic said, anticipating what the coroner might find upon further examination of Curtis’s body.
“Is the charge sheet ready for the grand jury?” Moore asked.
“Yes, though I’d be more than happy to add to it if you bring back any surprises.”
Chuckles echoed around the table until Nic leaned forward, serious again. “If you can get me what I need from these raids, I’ll bring everything before the grand jury by the end of the week. We can have an arrest warrant issued before the weekend.”
Cam knocked his knee again, and when Nic turned to him, he stared back with calm, confident eyes. “We’ll get you what you need.”