Chapter 10
Bridget was going out of her mind.
The Slurpee and KFC fried chicken I had Easton pick up on his way to the safe house had only gone so far. And that gesture had worn off about thirty minutes ago and now she was back to pacing the living room.
“Bridget?” I grabbed her arm as she passed me for the third time. “Let’s go over the pictures Garrett sent over.”
“Yeah, okay,” she mumbled miserably.
“I know it’s killing you but Garrett’s working on it.”
“I know.”
She hadn’t moved. I was still holding onto her arm.
I slid my hand down and threaded our fingers together and shoved my chair away from the table.
When there was enough space I gave her hand a yank and pulled her down to my lap.
Not that I had to pull hard—she was more than willing to sit and rest her head on my shoulder.
I let the feel of her settle over me, the sense of rightness at her nearness, before I continued, “If you know, then why are you pacing?”
“Because I can’t stop thinking that Phil has kids.”
Fuck .
Mike was married, had been for a long time but for whatever reason they didn’t have children. Sarah was young and single. Phil was divorced and the only person on her team who had children.
And he was the only person unaccounted for.
Garrett had easily found Sarah through her social media account, which meant someone who was looking to do her harm could find her, too.
It had taken time for Garrett to find a contact to seek her out in person to explain the situation to her.
He’d started with her for obvious reasons—a young, single woman who put her life on the internet was an easy target.
He’d located Mike and sent Cash to Maine to offer protection.
Phil however had no online presence, no wife who posted on Instagram.
He wasn’t answering his cell and no calls had been made from his phone in four days and it was off.
None of this was good.
When Garrett went deeper he found Phil hadn’t used his credit cards or bank card in four days either.
That was a call for concern, enough that Garrett had called the local PD in Vegas to go to Phil’s house for a wellness check.
He wasn’t home. Good news was when the police walked around his property there were no signs of forced entry.
Good news on the surface. But that didn’t mean dick until Garrett found him.
“Thank you for remembering I like extra coleslaw,” she mumbled into my chest.
“You’re welcome, baby.”
“And thank you for having Easton buy cherry, cola, and blueberry so I could pick which flavor I wanted.”
“Again, you’re welcome.”
“I want this to be over,” she whispered.
Good fuck, I felt that down to my bones.
I knew the feeling of constant fear. The overwhelming desire to crawl out of your own skin to escape your life.
I wished I could promise her it would be over soon, that things would go back to normal.
But for people like her and me there was no going back.
Normal was no longer what it used to mean.
Normal took on a new meaning when the life you were living was taken from you and in its place was this new life you didn’t ask for and didn’t want.
“I know you do. Garrett should be calling in soon with an update.”
I felt her sigh out a breath and snuggle into my chest.
“I don’t want to look at pictures. I know it’s weak but I just want to close my eyes and pretend.”
That wasn’t weak. That was real and honest and fuck if I didn’t understand that, too.
“So close your eyes.”
“You’re working.”
“I can hold you and read a report.”
Then I thought better of my answer and realized she might not be comfortable sitting on my lap at the table. I snatched the file I was reading off the table, set it on her chest, then wrapped my arms around her and stood.
“Whoa,” she breathed.
I made my way to the couch, praising Jesus, Mary, and the Universe all of Zane’s safe houses had comfortable furniture. I’d spent ten years overseas living off-grid, which meant most of the time I slept on a bedroll on a not-so-clean floor and sat on shit furniture.
When I sat, I adjusted Bridget and grabbed my file.
“Close your eyes and rest, Bridget.”
I felt her nod and wiggle closer. I went back to reading Garrett’s report.
As always it was thorough, filling in all the missing pieces from this morning’s brief.
Kathy Cobbs had paid Mark over fifty thousand dollars at the time of his arrest. The blackmail had only started three months earlier. I hadn’t watched the footage yet, but Garrett gave a detailed description of what was on the drone video.
The email exchanges were also in the file and they read as amateur and careless. Mark thought he was too smart to get caught. Kathy thought her position of power and wealth made her untouchable.
Neither one was correct.
What was interesting was Mark hadn’t turned on Kathy when he very easily could’ve tried his hand at a deal by helping solve a missing persons case that had gone cold.
It wouldn’t have worked; the CIA wanted him buried.
With Mark gone, the Sparrow was theirs with no worry it would get in the hands of anyone else.
The CIA was much like any big corporation buying up patents then never putting them to market.
The big corporation just wanted the product so no one else could have it.
Unlike the corporate giants, the CIA planned to use the Sparrow.
They’d just ensure no one else knew about it. Lucky for them, Mark had fucked up.
I flipped back to the first email Mark had sent Kathy and read it again. There was something in the email that didn’t sit right and there was a typo.
Mark was intelligent to the point he was pompous. I’d bet he read and reread his emails numerous times before he sent them. A typo wouldn’t do. He’d find it and correct it before he sent it.
My instincts screamed there was something wrong but I couldn’t pinpoint what that was.
Easton came into the living room with his phone to his ear.
“Yeah, he’s right here.”
No sooner did the words come out of his mouth than his gaze dropped to Bridget and he mouthed, “Sorry.”
So much for Bridget getting some rest.
Easton stopped by the side of the couch and whispered, “Garrett.”
Bridget pressed her cheek into my chest, a silent communication she was still awake.
“Yeah?” I asked when the phone was to my ear.
“Still can’t find Phil, but I did find a second bank account.”
“Let me guess, it has fifty thousand dollars in it.”
“Actually it only has thirty grand, but yes, it has deposits equaling fifty thousand.”
There it was.
The something that didn’t add up.
“How’d you find it?” he asked.
“I hadn’t put it all together,” I admitted. “But the emails were off. I was going to ask you to send me some from Mark’s company email address to compare.”
“Impressive,” Garrett muttered and he sounded like he meant that.
After working alone for so long, rarely having anyone to bounce ideas and theories off of, it had taken some time to get used to collaborating with a team again.
Easton, Cash, Jonas, Smith, and I had worked independently, sending our data back to Kira and Layla to analyze.
It might’ve taken some adjustment but I couldn’t say I didn’t like having my team at my disposal and I sure as fuck liked seeing them every day instead of on the rare occasion we could break protocol and get together.
“We’re still not any closer to figuring out who attacked Bridget and the bigger question of how they found her.”
“One step at a time. I’m running the emails sent to Kathy against emails from Phil’s account through comparison software.
Just to double check. But with the deposits matching the withdrawals from Kathy’s account I think it’s a safe bet it was Phil blackmailing Kathy.
However, I want to make sure it wasn’t a team effort and it was Phil impersonating Mark.
I’ve already started digging through Phil’s life.
Smith is helping me with that. We’ll have more answers soon.
But now I’m wondering if Phil got greedy. ”
“What’s that mean?”
“Did he start blackmailing her again?”
Shit .
“Do you think he’s impersonating Bridget now?”
“No. I think Kathy’s being careful with clean-up seeing as she’d think with Mark in prison she’d be in the clear. If Phil is back at it, she’s now wondering who else on the team knows.”
That made sense.
“Does she have the resources inside the Marshal service? And speaking of, how’d the meeting go?”
“Johnson canceled at the last minute. And I’m looking for a connection.”
“Why’d he cancel?”
“Said he had a lead he needed to follow up on.”
I felt my muscles bunch and my stomach knot. Obviously Bridget felt it, too, and lifted her head.
“Lead?”
“That’s what he said. Johnson told Zane he was in Vermont and he’d be in touch when he got back.”
I knew Bridget could hear Garrett through the phone when her eyes got big and she frowned.
“Troy,” I muttered.
“That’s what I was thinking. Do you want to call him or should I?”
Reluctantly I told him, “I’ll call him but I’m not feeling good about calling a man I don’t know in a situation like this. Especially when Johnson could’ve picked him up.”
“If you give me twenty minutes I’ll run Johnson and see if I can get his location.”
Garrett was talking about using Patheon, the facial recognition software Kira had developed.
She’d licensed the program to law enforcement and government agencies.
But there were parts of the program that were held back, namely the highly illegal components which utilized footage from personal and business security cameras.
If the footage was stored online Patheon could access it.
Anything from a door camera in a neighborhood to a gas station in the boonies.
“I’ll wait for your go-ahead before I make that call. You got anything else for me?”
“That’s all for now.”
“Right. Later.”
“Later.”
I hung up and blew out a breath.
Bridget was still staring at me with a weary gaze.