Chapter Eleven
He had no idea what he was looking at.
The words on the page spelled it out easily enough, but he couldn’t process what Maeve was saying. “I don’t understand.”
“What about the results don’t you understand?
” She dropped her hands to her sides, the picture of relaxed, but Callen knew what kind of fighter she’d become.
“The Taser we recovered isn’t just the same make and model as the ones your private security firm used in the field or the ones you gifted to the women in your family that Christmas. According to this, it’s yours.”
That…wasn’t possible.
His head had started spinning the moment she accused him of believing what they’d had together as a couple meant nothing, but now Callen was on the verge of losing it altogether. One of his Tasers had shown up at the crime scene of a missing forensic analyst and his sister.
“I took the Taser to the medical examiner’s office. I printed the device and uploaded the prints to the federal database myself.” Maeve was pacing now—or trying to get closer to wherever she’d stashed a weapon, he wasn’t sure yet. “Why was it at the scene, Callen? What aren’t you telling me?”
Callen shook his head, still staring at the data in front of him.
She had to ask these questions, he knew that, and based on their conversation a couple minutes ago, she had every reason not to trust the words out of his mouth, but there was no chance in hell this investigation linked back to him.
He handed back the results. “It’s not mine. ”
Her laugh told him how much she took him at his word. “The fingerprints—”
“Could’ve been planted there by anyone.” Shoving to his feet, he threaded his hand through his hair.
Hell, he’d had every intention of confronting Maeve about working Lauren’s case without bringing him in sooner and had somehow ended up the most likely suspect in a forensic analyst’s disappearance.
He didn’t even know Iliana Meyer. They’d never crossed paths, as far as he knew, but he came face-to-face with hundreds of hikers on the trails this time of year.
Was it possible she’d been one of them? “Yes, it’s the same make and model of the Taser I own, but I’m telling you right now, it’s not mine.
All of my gear—my weapons, my ammunition, my tactical supplies—are locked up in a storage unit. ”
That seemed to get her attention. Narrowing her gaze on him, Maeve stopped her pacing, her shoulders pulling back. “What storage unit?”
“It’s a self-storage place in town. They use shipping containers secured by padlocks.
I’m the only one with a key to my unit.” Though he had to admit, it’d been a while since he’d visited the storage unit.
There hadn’t been any need. But how else could one of his Tasers, with his fingerprints, end up at the scene?
“I couldn’t off-load that much gear and weaponry before relocating to Springdale, and my roommate wasn’t comfortable living in an armory, so I got the storage unit. I can take you there.”
Maeve was already on the move, bypassing him in favor of the black overnight bag on her bed.
She extracted a shirt and headed for the attached bathroom.
The door swung shut but didn’t close all the way, drawing his attention to the backlit movement through the crack.
After drawing her tank top over her head, she discarded it somewhere on the floor, exposing her bare back, and Callen sucked in a shallow breath.
“Did the storage facility supply the lock, or were you required to provide your own?”
“I bought my own. A closed-shackle padlock. Makes it nearly impossible for someone to use a saw or bolt cutters to get inside without the key.” He tracked the flex and release of the muscles down her back through the crack in the door no bigger than an inch wide, unable to take his eyes off her.
The smooth skin down her spine, the mole he’d kissed a thousand times over the back of her left hip, the tattoo detailing her father’s birth and death dates along one shoulder.
Heat simmered low in his gut, and Callen forced himself to break the spell as she pulled one of her workout bras into place, followed by her shirt.
Yep. He was going to hell. Because she’d been right before.
Climbing into her bed last night, the kiss, this uncontrollable need to keep her within arm’s reach—none of it had anything to do with the investigation and everything to do with whatever closure he hadn’t gotten from ending things between them.
He’d slipped back into habits that no longer served either of them and were only working to screw with their heads.
The door to the bathroom flew open, basking Maeve in yellowish light that did nothing to deter from her beauty as she tossed her tank top on the bed beside him. “Does anyone else have access to the storage container?”
“No. Just me.” A low buzz started in his head as her arm brushed against his in an effort to pull on a pair of socks and her tennis shoes.
The outfit she’d chosen was a combination of sweats and what looked to be one of her work shirts, but she pulled it off by throwing her long hair into a ponytail. “And the payments are up-to-date? There’s no chance the facility decided to auction off your armory?”
“Up-to-date and on time every month.” Between that storage unit, his cell phone bill, groceries and his rent, he didn’t have much else to spend his money on.
The funds would be there if something had come up, and he hadn’t gotten notice from his personal security system that the unit had been tampered with.
“I’m telling you, the Taser isn’t mine. Something else is going on here. ”
Maeve stilled. “All right. Then who would want to put your fingerprints at that scene, and how would they know about your preferred Taser?”
That was a good question. The list of suspects had shortened over the past year as he’d dived into every aspect of Lauren’s life.
From the frustrated city councilman who’d shut down his sister’s proposal for development expansion to the local artist boyfriend whom Lauren had promised to commission for her latest project and the landowner who’d refused to sell his property for a new batch of town houses—neither he nor the investigators had found motive for Lauren’s disappearance.
Background checks, surveillance, financial inquiries.
Nothing had raised a red flag. “I don’t know. ”
She seemed to consider his words, her jaw loosening and tightening. “Then let’s find out.”
Within five minutes, they were on the road.
Another twenty and Callen pulled his truck into the blockaded storage facility entrance and punched in the six-digit code into the keypad for after-hours access.
Twelve-foot cinder block walls and a closed-circuit surveillance system acted as deterrents for criminals, but Callen had no other way to explain how a Taser with his fingerprints had ended up at a crime scene.
“Are entry codes individual to each storage owner?” Maeve’s attention burned into him from the passenger seat as the gates slowly receded to one side of the lot.
She was tense as she picked at her clothes on the way over, and he couldn’t help but be reminded that they hadn’t finished their earlier conversation.
He could already see where she was headed with this lead, though.
An individual code would allow them to track who’d entered the property.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t how this place operated.
He pressed on the accelerator, turning right toward his unit.
The shipping containers weren’t in any real kind of order, as they’d been shuffled over the years, but his was easily accessible compared to some others.
He’d made sure of it. “One code for everybody.”
“And you chose this place?” She scanned the layout of the units as though she needed to make a quick escape. “Would’ve thought you’d be a little more security minded than that.”
“I have my own security system up and running in the container.” Problem was, there were times the unit got too hot under the blazing Southern Utah sun. No system was perfect, and his had shorted out this past summer, at least three times that he was aware of.
“That sounds more like it.” She seemed to be looking everywhere but at him, the tightness in her shoulders more exaggerated under the spotlights installed outside every other unit.
“About last night.” Callen pulled up in front of his assigned shipping container and shoved the truck into Park but didn’t move to get out.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you. I just… I got caught up in the familiarity of the whole situation, and I didn’t want you to wake up alone.
I know it’s not my place anymore, and I’m sorry. ”
Her throat worked on a strong swallow. “It helped.”
He knew that from years of firsthand experience.
Once they’d finally gotten past their own reservations about dating and how it would affect Lauren, there hadn’t been more than a handful of days in the five years they were together that didn’t end with one of them in the other’s bed.
Nights where no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fight those terrors for her. “It won’t happen again.”
“I’m sure the guests of Days Inn will be very disappointed to hear that.
” Her smile triggered a raise of his mouth.
Hell, she’d never smiled enough. There’d been entire weeks—now close to a year—where he’d gone without it, and that hit to his system rocketed him into a near high.
“But your girlfriend will probably be relieved.”
Confusion doused his weightlessness. Callen didn’t even register how hard he’d been clutching the steering wheel until his knuckles hurt. “Girlfriend?”
“The one who owns all these hairs sticking to my clothes.” She picked at something on the seat and dragged it into the dim light of the control panel.
A single long blond hair. “You could make an entire new woman out of how much she’s left in my seat alone.
Can’t imagine what the back bench looks like, knowing your preference for truck sex. ”
Callen couldn’t stop the laugh that burst from his chest. “Is that why you’ve been so tense since you got in the truck? You think I’m seeing someone? And, what? I cheated on them last night by kissing you?”
“Did you?” She flung the hair out of sight near her feet as though she couldn’t stand to be in the same vehicle as it, let alone have it touch her.
“The hair belongs to my former roommate. He didn’t believe in owning his own car, so I drove him to run errands and carpool to work.
A lot. So believe me when I tell you, you won’t find his hair in the back seat.
” At least, he hoped not. “But it’s good to know your feelings on whether or not I’m dating. ”
“You’re an ass.” Shoving free from the truck cab, Maeve slammed the door behind her before rounding the hood of the vehicle, the headlights casting her shadow against the storage container as she inspected the padlock.
She’d cared. About whether or not he’d moved on. The idea had gotten to her, but hadn’t it done the same to him last night? When he’d wondered whether she had someone waiting for her back in Vegas who helped with her nightmares?
Callen cut the engine and climbed out after her, padlock key in hand.
He shouldn’t care what was going on in her life or whether she’d found someone to warm her bed.
They weren’t together anymore. They were barely acquaintances at this point.
But just like that kiss, he couldn’t stop thinking about who she might have been with since she’d left.
If they knew her favorite junk food was popcorn with Junior Mints, or that she needed three ibuprofen and to watch The Office while on her period.
Did she smile for them? Did they make her happy?
Hands on her hips, Maeve turned to face him, not even the spotlights able to take away from the intensity in her gaze. “I take it you haven’t been out here in a while.”
“Few weeks.” He separated the padlock key from the rest on his key ring as he approached the door. “Why?”
“Because your padlock is broken.” She pointed to the unit. “Someone out there got complete access to your armory.”