Chapter 13
Noah stood in front of the window in the family room with his second cup of coffee. The steam curled lazily from the black liquid, then evaporated into the air. The pounding in his head had backed off. The rest of it hadn't.
None of which were pleasant.
Cormac had been replaced by a man named Dakota Wyss. He’d been in the Navy and stationed at Naval Base Kitsap. He was also now employed by the Aegis Network and taking shifts with Cormac. Seemed like a decent guy.
A large, fancy SUV pulled into his driveway from the private road.
“They’re here.” He glanced over his shoulder.
Ziggy had baked muffins the other day—chocolate chip this time—and she’d arranged them neatly on the countertop. She had a to-go mug in one hand and a muffin wrapped in a napkin in the other. “Okay. I’m just going to run this out to Dakota, since he’s even worse than Cormac about coming inside.”
Noah chuckled. “Sometimes, I think you believe baked goods will solve the world's problems.”
She obviously didn’t find it funny because she glared as she passed him on the way out the door. He knew he didn’t understand women in general, but he thought he’d always had a good handle on Ziggy.
This last week proved that all women, even the one he loved more than anything and couldn’t live without, were onions with far too many layers to peel.
He stood in the doorway and watched her pause briefly to say hello to Baxter and Jag before making a beeline to Dakota, who was out of his car so fast, she nearly tripped over her own two feet.
“She’s so much like our mother,” Jag said as he jogged up the porch steps. “I bet she’s already taken over your fridge, and now you have appetizers and pastries, just in case people stop by or you decide to have a gathering.”
“I don’t know how she stays so trim because I’ve already gained two pounds this week.
” Noah stepped aside and let Jag and Baxter inside.
He glanced toward Ziggy, who was still speaking to Dakota.
Noah stood there for a moment, contemplating whether he should wait, call her over, or just let her be, and she’d wander in when she was ready.
He decided on the latter.
“There’s a pot of coffee and, as you can see, muffins.” Noah closed the door and made his way into the kitchen. He set down his mug and leaned against the opposite side of the family room and stared at the door while the other two men went about making themselves at home.
Noah glanced at his watch twice.
It had only taken six minutes for Ziggy to come back inside, but it felt like a half hour of nothing but spoons hitting ceramic and two men commenting on how great chocolate chip muffins were while Noah nearly lost his mind.
Noah didn't care that she was out there chatting with Dakota. Noah thought it was nice that she wanted to take care of the men watching over them. But it was Ziggy’s nervous energy had him on edge.
Noah had to admit, he was worried, too. The system generally worked, but sometimes it made some fucked up mistakes.
Ziggy eased into the stool across from Baxter, with her back to the door. Jag leaned his ass against the far counter near the sink, facing Noah. For half a beat, everyone was silent. It was like the aftermath when a bomb went off. Noah couldn’t stand it.
"What's going on?" he asked.
Baxter leaned down and pulled a folder out of his briefcase. He slid two pages across the island—one toward Noah, the other toward Ziggy. “Monica’s attorney called me early this morning—”
“That can’t be good,” Ziggy whispered.
“Let him finish,” Jag said.
“It was a courtesy call,” Baxter continued. “He wanted to give us a heads up, so we weren’t blindsided.”
“Can we just get to the point?” Ziggy waved the paper. “What are we looking at?”
Noah glanced at the page. “Well, it’s not an arrest warrant.”
“Stop trying to be funny.” She slapped the paper on the counter.
"Monica is giving a press conference at eleven this morning," Jag said. "She wanted both of you to see her statement before she gave it.”
Noah tried to focus on the words on the page, but the throbbing behind his eyes from the night before hadn't fully quit, and the letters blurred at the edges. He blinked. They stayed blurred. He set down the page. “Someone needs to give me the short version."
Baxter pushed his glasses up to his forehead. "Monica is recanting her accusation."
Ziggy let out a very loud sigh. "Thank god."
“That’s a huge relief.” But Noah couldn’t relax. "Who hurt her? I mean, someone did that to her face. That wasn’t fake, and whoever did should be behind bars.”
"She says she doesn’t know, and that’s also in her statement,” Jag said.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the island.
"Someone attacked her from behind in the parking garage on her way to her car after work. She never saw who it was. When she came to in the hospital, flowers and a card were waiting for her. It wasn’t signed, but based on the contents, we believe it was from her attacker. ”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Noah wiped a hand over his mouth. “Why did she blame me?”
Baxter tapped the page in front of Noah. “Inside the card was cash and a note. The cops asked all the nurses and staff if anyone had visited her. There had only been one person.”
“Let me guess.” Noah clenched his hands at his sides. “Someone dressed in non-descript clothes wearing a baseball cap, and they couldn’t tell if it was male or female.”
“Actually, they know it was a woman.” Jag arched a brow. “And because of the nature of the crime, this person had to sign in.”
“So, that means you’ve got a name.” Ziggy sat up taller as she shifted her gaze quickly between Baxter and her brother.
“The woman gave them an ID with the name of one of Monica’s co-workers,” Jag said.
“Brian Minor went down to question her, and she said she’d been mugged recently.
She’d reported that her wallet had been stolen.
ID, credit cards, all gone. And, not only was she out of town the day of the attack, but she also no longer works at the same company.
She didn’t know Monica had been attacked until she publicly accused you. ”
Noah pinched the bridge of his nose. “My father got to know the women he raped and killed. The people who loved them all said those young ladies had feelings for my dad.” Noah dropped his hand. “I don’t know how, but my dad is somehow controlling all this from inside prison.”
“I spoke to Brian and Amy,” Jag said. “They researched your dad, and they’re pushing the judge to sign the court order to give them access to visitor logs at the prison. But that’s also based on the fact that the attacker left instructions in that card for Monica.”
“And what were those?” Noah asked.
"Blame Noah Chase, and there will be a big financial reward. Don't, and we'll hurt those you love the same way we hurt you."
Ziggy's hand came up over her mouth. “Oh, my God. That poor woman. She must have been so scared.”
Noah reached for Ziggy’s hand and held it tight while he processed everything he'd just heard. It was all connected. All of it deliberate. All of it his father's work and none of it traceable—yet.
"The day after her accusation went public, a substantial deposit hit Monica's account," Baxter said.
"The feds traced it," Jag said. “It came from shell companies with multiple layers, so it’s going to take some time to find out who exactly sent it. But they expect to have the source identified by Monday."
“My dad had money. But to my knowledge, most of it went toward paying restitution and addressing civil suits. I don’t know how he’d handle paying someone a large sum through shell corps.
” Noah rubbed his temples. “But that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have gotten some woman to do it for him. He’s so good at manipulation.”
“We’ll have some answers in two days.” Jag put a hand on Noah's shoulder. “And then we can make some moves. But we have to be patient. I know it’s hard, but we’ll get through this.”
“Is it safe for Monica to go public?” Ziggy asked softly. "If whoever did this thinks she's still going along with their plan, doesn’t that buy the police and the feds some time? But if she recants, she’ll be exposed and even more vulnerable.”
"The feds will protect her," Jag said. “And Troy said he can put one of the Aegis Network operatives on her. He’s got a few in the area, even though the office isn’t quite up and running yet.”
Ziggy flattened both hands on the counter. "But won't this escalate things? Whoever’s behind this—whether it’s Matias, or someone else, or both of them together—they’ll know it didn't work."
“I know it sounds crazy,” Jag said. “But that’s exactly what we’re hoping for.”
Noah stared into his coffee. His father was sitting in that cell, running something from inside four walls that had tentacles nobody could see, patient as he'd always been.
Escalating the situation meant forcing his father's hand.
Forcing his father's hand meant whoever he was using on the outside would have to act. And acting meant leaving a trail.
It was the right play, and Noah hated that.
Baxter pulled another page from his folder and laid it on the island.
"We'd like you to give a statement this afternoon responding to Monica's.
That you accept her apology. That you're focused on nothing but finding who did this to her and bringing them to justice. We attach the tip line, and you ask your audience to call if they know anything.”
Jag snagged another muffin. "The feds and Seattle PD want Ziggy at your side when you give the statement."
Noah was off the stool in a second flat. "No."
"As a cop, I know it's the right call." Jag held up a hand. "As your girlfriend’s brother, I fucking hate it.”
Ziggy stared down at the counter. "Are you saying I'm bait?"
"More like the icing on the cake." Jag reached across the island and laid a hand over hers. "Whoever’s doing this knows that to get to Noah, they come for his weak spot. And that’ll always be the person he loves the most.”
"Absolutely not." Noah planted both hands on his hips. His memory of Monica's battered face rose in his mind. About what his father had done to twelve women over fourteen years. "What if they do to Ziggy what they did to Monica? You know who’s behind this, Jag. You know exactly what that man spent fourteen years doing to women. And maybe he can’t touch her, but he can find someone who can.”
“You don’t need to tell me what’s at stake.
” Jag tapped his left upper chest where his badge would normally be.
"I know what I'm asking. She's my sister.
" He held Noah's gaze. "But we need to get ahead of this.
We need to be the ones calling the shots.
We need to draw whoever he's using out into the open.
If this were purely my call, it's still the play I'd make. "
"Let's do it," Ziggy said, her head slowly nodding up and down.
"No," Noah repeated. “I can’t put you in that kind of danger. I won’t.”
“I already am. Besides, there are other things to consider.” She lifted her head and swiped at her cheeks.
"First, it would look strange if your producer wasn't standing next to you for a statement.
Second, I'm your girlfriend, so I'm going to be there regardless.
" She held his gaze and didn't move. "And third, it's the right play, and you know it. "
Noah stared at Ziggy. At the set of her jaw. The determination etched into the muscles in her face. The empathy and love in her eyes. And the complete absence of anything that resembled backing down.
He picked up his coffee. “Looks like I don’t have a choice in this matter.” He took a long sip. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."