Winter Black Box Set 3 Page 14

  But she knew better than to raise her hopes.

  Caroline Peters was only one piece of the puzzle, and they still had many more to find.

  21

  Ryan pinched the American flag pin between his thumb and forefinger to hold it up to the light. Even though he knew what he was looking for, an up-close examination of the unassuming recording device belied no hint of the pin’s true function. The stars and stripes were outlined with a silver border, and the light glinted off the polished flag.

  Prying his focus away from the pin, he offered a half-smile to the man at the other end of the circular table. “You know,” Ryan paused to chuckle as he fixed the pin to his lapel, “I remember the days when you’d pat a bloke down looking for a wire. And you were looking for an actual wire. Some primitive caveman tech taped under his shirt with a battery pack the size of a Walkman.”

  Bobby Weyrick snorted out a laugh. “Glad I wasn’t in the bureau back then. These things were a little clunkier when I started a few years ago, but I think I missed the worst of it. Everything’s wireless these days.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.” Ryan readjusted his black tie, hating how nervous he felt.

  The agent glanced down to his nondescript watch. “Winter should be here soon. She’s on her way back from Brett Chaplain’s place.”

  Ryan lifted a curious eyebrow. “I take it she and Agent Dalton didn’t find anything.”

  With a shake of his head, Bobby leaned back in his seat. “No, they didn’t. Just like Parrish said. We’re looking for a serial killer, and Chaplain was just a regular ex-boyfriend. Winter said he’d been out of town until the night before last, and between his roommates and his job, there’s someone to vouch for where he was almost every hour of the day.”

  “Couldn’t be that easy, could it?”

  The corner of Bobby’s mouth twitched. “Easy stuff like that is what the city cops get to deal with. When they get a doozey like this,” he shrugged, “that’s when they get the bureau involved. Ain’t a lot of cases that come through our office that are cut and dry like a crazy ex-boyfriend or girlfriend.”

  Ryan nodded his understanding. Over the past week, he’d discovered more about Federal versus State jurisdiction than he ever thought he’d learn outside of a college classroom. Bobby was right. In the old adage about pulling out the big guns, the Federal Bureau of Investigation was the big gun.

  Neither Ryan nor Bobby got a chance to expound on their stinted conversation before the glass and metal door swung inward with a light creak. The newcomer’s vivid blue eyes flicked from Bobby to Ryan as she let the door fall closed. Tucking a wayward piece of ebony hair behind one ear, she pulled out the chair to Ryan’s side and took a seat.

  As he made his best effort to appear amiable, Ryan nodded. “Agent Black. Nice to see you again.”

  Her mouth moved in what might have been a slight smile, though Ryan wasn’t quite sure. “You ready for this?”

  Biting back a sigh, Ryan spread his hands. “As ready as I’m going to get, I’d imagine.”

  With a reassuring smile, Bobby gestured to Agent Black. “We’ll both be right outside if you need us. Do you have any reason to believe there’s the potential for a violent confrontation?”

  Ryan shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. They’re a bunch of shady arseholes, but they aren’t like the mob or something. They watch each other’s backs and cover up each other’s skeletons, make sure all their kids get into the best schools, screw over poor people to make a few bucks, but they aren’t about to go from door to door busting kneecaps if they think something’s off.”

  “Right.” Agent Black still looked serious, or like she had the makings of a headache coming on. “If they need something like that done, they’d hire someone to do it, right?”

  Ryan rang a pretend bell. “Bingo. These dinner parties aren’t anything extravagant. They’re exclusive, but they aren’t ‘knock on an alleyway door and give a secret password’ exclusive.”

  Agent Weyrick scooted his chair closer to the table. “Still. We ought to have a few code words or phrases in case you run into trouble.”

  The thought made Ryan’s heart pound against his chest. The men and women who attended the dinner parties might not have even been capable of throwing a punch, but he was sure they knew how to find someone who could. If they discovered that he was spying on their little club for the FBI, he might be able to make it out of the house, but he wouldn’t make it far beyond that.

  Even though there would be no attendees who had the gall to confront him themselves, they had more than enough money to pay an actual mafioso to find and deal with Ryan’s disloyalty. And if the members of that elite circle knew that he was there to air their dirty secrets to the world, there wasn’t much that two FBI agents could do to help him in the days that followed.

  That was the beauty of their type of power. They never dirtied their own hands. They never had to worry about how they’d deal with a potential threat. They just located a capable third party, pointed them in the direction, and fired them at their adversary like they were a Howitzer.

  Ryan had learned long ago that knowledge, though powerful in its own right, was not power. Only power was power.

  “Once you get there, you’ll just find your contact, same as you normally do.” Winter Black’s voice cut through his grim thoughts.

  Mechanically, Ryan blinked to clear his vision. “Her husband used to be a major player in their weird little social circle. The only women other than her that I usually see around there are the wives. Honestly, I don’t even think that Mrs. N is real keen on being part of this thing. But she’s a political figure, so she needs the donations and the endorsements.”

  Agent Weyrick’s mouth had become a hard line. “Everyone’s got a price, don’t they?”

  The pit in Ryan’s stomach was more noticeable at the agent’s grave expression. He knew firsthand how an attempt to walk with one foot in the darkness and one in the light ended. Eventually, no matter how hard a person tried to maintain a balance, everyone had to choose.

  Living in both worlds wasn’t just a tightrope walk—it was impossible. And for someone like Mrs. N, a time would eventually come where she would fall onto one side or the other.

  But Nicole Nichols’s fate wasn’t his concern. She’d made her bed, and she’d become adept at maneuvering through the underworld of the wealthy elite without staining her hands too extensively.

  Ryan was here for his sister and his niece and nephew. He’d asked himself if he wanted one foot in the dark or one in the light, and he’d made his decision. But just because he’d chosen the light didn’t mean the decision wouldn’t come with a price.

  As he pulled himself from the reverie, he glanced back up to the two agents. “Before we start figuring out these code words, you know I’ve got to ask. Any update on the US Attorney?”

  Winter Black nodded. “Yes, though we’re still waiting to hear the results. SAC Osbourne is meeting with him tonight. We ought to know more by tomorrow morning, and as soon as we do, we’ll let you know.”

  Weyrick’s eyes shifted from Agent Black to Ryan as he tapped a finger against the polished table. “He’s going to tell them about what we’re doing tonight, about how you’re helping us with it.”

  Swallowing the sting of bile that had risen up the back of his throat, Ryan managed not to puke. “Okay. That’s all I can really ask for, I guess.”

  He’d hoped to know more about the deal the US Attorney planned to present to him before he attended the dinner party. After all, if an opportunity to escape existed, it would be in the short window of time he was relieved of the high-tech ankle monitor.

  However, he still didn’t know what the US Attorney intended to heap onto his plate. And unless he knew that the man intended to well and truly screw him over, he wouldn’t run. He owed that much to Lil. The kids. Himself.

  Coughing into one hand to clear his throat, Ryan nodded again. “All right. Well, let’s figure out these code words then.”

  22

  When Peyton Hoesch glanced up from her phone, her first instinct was to look back down and pretend she’d seen nothing. Cameron Arkwell was an amiable enough guy on most days, but she’d always seen a different persona that lurked beneath his pale blue eyes.

  He was intense, but she was sure he was harmless. After all, plenty of friends and coworkers had told Peyton she had the same sort of intensity too.

  “Caroline isn’t going to make it.” Peyton wasn’t sure why she felt the need to vocalize the words. Cameron was looking at the same group text message conversation as she.

  Shadows shifted along his clean-shaven face as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. The seconds of silence ticked away, and the only sound was the quiet drone of the refrigerator to Cameron’s side. His eyes were fixed on the screen of his smartphone as he slowly nodded. “Looks that way.”

  Shifting in her seat at the massive kitchen island, Peyton looked back to her phone and pulled up her and her mother’s text history.

  Peyton’s mom had been an agent in the Drug Enforcement Agency for the past twenty years, and even though the work didn’t often follow her home, Maryann Hoesch made a point to pass some of her law enforcement knowledge down to her daughter.

  To be sure, Peyton didn’t want to be a federal agent like her mother. Her major was sociology, and the marketing class she took with Cameron and Caroline had been more of an accident than anything. She’d added the course to her schedule at the last second, needing the three credit hours to remain a full-time student. Unless she maintained full-time status at VCU, she wouldn’t be eligible for scholarships or financial aid.

  The marketing course was one of the few that hadn’t filled up during Peyton’s last-minute scramble to
throw together her schedule, and it had been a placeholder until she found a course that actually interested her.

  Marketing strategies might have been intriguing to people like Cameron Arkwell and Caroline Peters, but Peyton had to fight to keep her eyes from glazing over during each class period.

  By the time she remembered to swap the class to something less mind-numbing, she would have had to pay a nominal late enrollment fee. To avoid the seventy-five-dollar charge, she decided to tough out the marketing class.

  I should have paid the seventy-five bucks, she thought as she glanced back to Cameron.

  The unsettling anger had dissipated, but the glint in his pale eyes was still present.

  As his gaze met hers, Peyton shrugged. “We could just set up a different night to work on it. I’ve got a paper due tomorrow for one of my other classes, so I can just head home and work on that.”

  With a slight smile, Cameron waved a dismissive hand. “No, don’t worry about it. We can work on something, make the trip out here worth it, you know?”

  In that moment, the irascibility seemed so distant that it might have been a figment of Peyton’s imagination.

  It might have been, but she still couldn’t shake the nagging sensation in the back of her head. Rather than leap out of her seat to collect her car keys and leave, Peyton stayed where she was, silently consenting. But she wasn’t consenting at all.

  One way or another, she was going to leave the awkward air that had settled over the kitchen.

  Breaking her gaze away from Cameron’s, her fingers flew across the virtual keyboard of her phone.

  Hey Mom, favor? I’m at a classmate’s working on a group project and it’s getting kind of awkward. Could you call me so I can leave without seeming rude?

  Tonight wouldn’t be the first time she had asked a friend or family member to help nonchalantly extract her from an unwanted social situation.

  Sure, honey. Give me a sec and I’ll call and say something about the dog we don’t have.

  In spite of the palpable discomfort that hung in the air, Peyton smiled to herself as she locked her phone. They had three cats and an iguana, but no dog.

  All the while, Cameron’s blue eyes had been fixed on his own smartphone. As if he’d been snapped out of a trance, he looked up to her before gesturing to the fridge. “Do you want something to drink?”

  Just as Peyton was about to shrug and make an effort to brush off the offer, the screen of her phone lit up as the device buzzed against the granite bar.

  Eyes wide, she feigned surprise as well as she was able. “Oh. That’s my mom.” She didn’t wait for a confirmatory gesture before she picked up the phone and swiped the screen. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

  “Hey, sweetie,” her mom said. “I just got word from my boss that I’m going to have to stay late. Charlie’s been cooped up inside all day, and I hoped I’d have been home by now to let him out. Could you do me a huge favor and head home to let him out before he pisses on the living room carpet again?”

  Peyton suppressed a chuckle. Their fake dog’s name had always been Charlie. “Yeah, I can do that.”

  “And, honey, please. I know you’re working on something for one of your classes, but he’s probably ready to piss himself right now.” Her mom’s voice was level with just enough of a hint of panic that Peyton almost had to ask herself if they really did have a dog.

  They didn’t, of course. Peyton was deathly allergic.

  “Of course, Mom. I’ll head over there now.” Painting an apologetic expression on her face, she shrugged as she met Cameron’s curious stare.

  “Okay, thank you, honey. I’ll see you later. Love you.”

  “Love you too, Mom.”

  As she locked the screen and returned the phone to the back pocket of her jeans, she spread her hands. “I’m sorry. My mom got roped into working late and she needs me to go home and let out our dog before he pisses on the floor.”

  Cameron leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms. “Your dog? I didn’t know you had a dog.”

  Shouldering her handbag, Peyton blinked. “Yeah, we’ve had him for a few years.”

  Cameron arched an eyebrow, suspicion alight on his face. “Really?”

  What was going on? Why was he skeptical of her sudden need to leave?

  Even if he’d put two and two together and realized that she’d concocted an excuse to escape, there wasn’t any reason for him to care. He and Peyton were just short of perfect strangers.

  She swallowed the sudden rush of anxiety and forced an amiable smile to her lips. “Yeah, his name is Charlie.”

  Partly because of her mother’s line of work and partly because of the activism she’d done on campus, Peyton was well aware of sexual assault statistics for young women in college.

  By the time they graduated, one in five college girls would have been sexually assaulted at least once. The number had held steady since at least the 1980s, and it didn’t seem to be in decline.

  Peyton also knew that the most likely perpetrator of such an assault was a man who was a friend or acquaintance of the victim.

  Women were rarely assaulted by someone they didn’t know.

  By the time she’d run through the disturbing knowledge, her heart hammered in her chest. She’d been down this road before, and only quick thinking and a convincing line of dialogue had gotten her out of the scenario unscathed.

  She was confident she would be able to say the same for tonight. Thanks to her mom, Peyton had an unquestionable way out of this damn house.

  If Cameron and Caroline wanted to work with Peyton on any more of their project, they could meet up in the student commons in the middle of the day.

  There was no way in hell Peyton was ever coming back to Cameron Arkwell’s house.

  He’d mentioned earlier that his father was home, but the man wouldn’t be able to hear a thing from his upstairs office.

  For the first chunk of Peyton’s visit, she’d been comforted by the flickering light of the television in the nearby great room. But when Cameron’s sister, Maddie, had flicked off the screen and left, Peyton had gone on guard.

  “Charlie, huh?” Though he’d donned a smile, the sly glint in his eyes remained.

  Before Peyton could elaborate on her and her mother’s fake dog, Cameron chuckled.

  “You know.” He leveled an index finger in her direction. “I love that name for a dog. I love it when pets have people names, you know? You can say things like ‘dammit, Kenneth, stop drinking out of the toilet,’ and it just sounds hilarious.”

  Peyton could only hope her smile was convincing.

  With a laugh that sounded more nervous than amused, she tightened her grip on her handbag and nodded. “That’s almost exactly what my mom said when we named him.”

  There was some truth in the statement. Two of their three cats were named Mavis and Greg. They’d named the other one Almond Joy, and Peyton had named her iguana Geico.

  Whenever her mom walked by the terrarium, she’d always coo at the lizard about how she wished he could save her fifteen percent on her car insurance.

  At the fond memory, Peyton dug up the remainder of her fortitude.

  It was time to leave. When she got home, she could tell her mom all about the uncomfortable encounter with Cameron Arkwell. Maybe one of her law enforcement friends had heard the young man’s name mentioned in connection with a crime.

  Or maybe, the entire unnerving look in Cameron’s pale eyes had been manufactured by Peyton’s imagination. Maybe Cameron was a perfectly normal, albeit intense, twenty-two-year-old man.

  Either way, Peyton didn’t intend to stick around to find out.

  She squeezed the handle of her purse. “Well, thank you for hosting this group study thing. Sorry we didn’t actually get anything done.”

  His smile widened as he shook his head. “It’s okay. It happens, you know?” He straightened to his full height and gestured to the hallway at the end of the kitchen. “Here, you can go out this way. I’ll follow you so I can open the garage door. The front entrance is usually all locked down after the staff leave.”

  The effort to maintain her nonchalant smile had turned monumental.