Concrete Evidence (19 page)

But JT laughed. “Exactly. I didn’t realize he was so obvious.”

Her cheeks began to cool. “There’ve been rumors he’s angling to be vice president.”

“Campaigns are…big.” His expression said he knew the word was grossly inadequate. “And this is the biggest prize of all. We’re all obsessed with the senator’s campaign these days.”

Joseph Talon had been in office for twelve years, and his own son had just referred to him not as “Dad” but as “the senator.” Had politics consumed Joseph Talon’s identity, even to the people who mattered most in his life?

“How is Lee doing? Is he working hard?”

If she’d been asked that question yesterday morning, she’d have said he was a waste of time and money. But now she felt differently. It wasn’t because he’d rocked her world with one knee-weakening kiss, but because he’d been there for her when her life was ripped apart as easily as her mattress.

“He’s helping me with Thermo-Con and has provided an interesting lead.” She saw her escape and glanced at her watch, not faking her dismay when she saw it was noon. “Speaking of which, I should head to the office.”

“It’s Saturday,” he reminded her.

She inclined her head toward the papers spread across the table. “You’re working.”

“I’m always working. It’s the nature of my job. But your apartment was vandalized. You have other priorities.”

She shrugged as coolly as she could manage. She couldn’t let him know how afraid she was. He needed to believe it was a random act of violence. “My apartment is a total loss,” she said, a break in her voice telling them both she wasn’t as cool as she wanted to be. “I can’t face it yet, but I have a report due on Monday, so I need to go to the office.”

She felt Lee’s presence as a tingle in the back of her neck even before he entered the room and wondered when exactly she’d developed a Lee radar, or Lee-dar, as her grad school friends would have called it.

“I thought you were planning to work from home this weekend,” Lee said.

“I was, until my computer was dropped in a bathtub full of water.”

“You can work from here,” Lee said.

Feeling uncomfortable that Lee had just offered up JT’s apartment, she looked to the CEO.

He nodded. “You can stay here as long as you need.”

She looked again at Lee, who relaxed against the counter, still wearing only sweatpants. He turned and reached into the cupboard for a coffee mug, and the fabric stretched across his perfect butt. He poured himself a cup of coffee, then turned back so she could appreciate his sculpted abs. Like JT, Lee hadn’t shaved, and his jaw was covered in attractive stubble. She wondered if he’d entered the room half-dressed in an attempt to out-masculine JT. Frankly, it worked.

Lee had a spectacular physique. She’d always known lust made her stupid, and she could feel IQ points slipping away just looking at him. Could she stay here without sleeping with Lee? While JT was here, certainly. But what about after JT returned to New York and they were alone?

The truth was, she had nowhere else to go. She had no one.

This half-dressed man she’d met six days ago was the closest thing to a friend she had in DC.

She straightened her spine. She’d survive. That was the one thing she knew how to do. She also knew when to accept help. “Thanks, I’d like to stay.”

“Good,” JT said. “There’s a desktop computer in the den you can use.”

“I’ve got to go back to my apartment to get the Thermo-Con file. Hopefully it wasn’t destroyed. I didn’t think to check last night.”

“I forgot to take it out of the laptop case,” Lee said. “I’ve got the file here.”

At least one thing had gone right in the last twenty-four hours. “I should get to work, then.” She stood up.

“No,” Lee and JT said simultaneously.

“You need to eat first,” JT said.

Lee pulled a carton of eggs from the refrigerator. “I make a killer spinach omelet.”

She felt her throat close up. These men acted as though they cared.

L
EE LISTENED FOR THE SOUND
of the shower then reentered the kitchen. “She can’t hear us.”

“What did you find out?” JT asked.

“Novak is primarily a treasure hunter, although he does do some salvage work. He usually operates out of California. He has a permanent help-wanted ad on his website. He wants to hire an underwater archaeologist so he can get excavation permits from foreign governments for shipwreck excavations.”

“So?” JT asked, leaning back in his chair.

“I called the archaeologist from the university—the one I spoke to last weekend to prepare for the job. He said it’s career suicide for an underwater archaeologist to work for a treasure hunter. It’s not illegal, mind you, but it’s the sort of thing that would get a person quietly blackballed. As in nothing would be in writing, but word would spread.

“The university archaeologist said Novak’s excavations are anything but archaeological—he takes the goods and destroys the resource. Novak has never published a report and provides no data on his finds. These are the cardinal sins of archaeology.”

“And you think she worked for him.”

“Yes. It all makes sense. I couldn’t find anything official. I’d wondered why she had perfect grades, then withdrew from the University of Hawaii.” It had been a big red flag when he realized she was enrolling in another Master’s program. Why drop one grad program after the coursework was complete, then start another? She owed thousands in student loans for the UH classes.

He continued. “I bet she was told her transcript would remain clean if she left quietly. As far as work goes, no one gave her a recommendation at all—good or bad. But that’s standard practice these days, due to companies’ fear of being sued. I think she moved here because her reputation in the West was shot.”

“Why would she work for a man like Novak in the first place?”

Lee pulled out a chair and sat down. “I’ve already told you about her credit problems. She’s broke. My guess is Novak promised her the moon.”

“What did she do with the money?” JT asked.

“I don’t know. I think something bad happened between them.”

“Did he trash her apartment?”

“I think she thinks it was him,” Lee said. But she hadn’t said a word. Her silence didn’t sit well with him.

“Why didn’t she tell the police about him?”

“I’m not a mind reader.”

“Then we need to get her to talk. Is the den computer safe for her to use?”

“I switched to a blank hard disk while she was sleeping. And I’ve installed a program that will record every keystroke.”

“Good. Keeping your cover while she’s living here will be difficult but worth it.”

“I’ve set it so calls to the land line will roll to my office phone. The last thing we need is Erica answering a call from my mother or Joe. If you need to reach me, call the cell.”

“I want to keep her here as long as possible.” JT paused. “Her walls need painting; that’ll get us a few days.”

Uneasiness spread through Lee. “I’ll pay for it.”

“It might be easier if I make her my new pet charity case.” JT sat back, a speculative gleam in his eyes, and Lee’s unease built.

“No.”

“Look, she’s keeping secrets. One of us needs to win her trust if we want to find out why she’s afraid of Novak. I’m perfectly content to let you be the one to wine and dine her, but I’m worried you aren’t objective where she’s concerned.”

“I said no.” Lee sat forward, not bothering to hide his anger. “For all we know, Novak took advantage of her when she was vulnerable. I won’t let you do the same thing.”

JT’s eyes took on a cold look, every inch the powerful CEO who negotiated with presidents and generals. Once upon a time, this man had been his brother. He’d always been his best friend. “I’ll do whatever is necessary. Someone is using
my
company to smuggle artifacts out of Iraq. I need to find out who and hand them over to the Feds with a big red bow before the press gets wind of what’s going on and the scandal ruins the campaign.” His voice hardened. “Erica is either actively involved or she knows something. Her office and home have been trashed. And don’t forget what happened to Tommy Riversong.”

“I haven’t forgotten, but I won’t let you toy with her emotions. If you do, I’ll tell her everything.”

“You wouldn’t do that. You owe me, Lee.”

The reminder was a cheap shot. Lee’s mother had dissolved her marriage to Joseph Talon without a second thought and dragged Lee along through more nightmare relationships until he was old enough to choose his own home. There weren’t many twenty-one-year-olds who would provide a home to a damaged sixteen-year-old kid who wasn’t even related to him anymore.

“I’m not your spy because I owe you or Joe. I’m doing it because I believe in Joe. I want to see him win, but not at any price. I won’t let you use her. She’s a person, JT, and she may be innocent. Would you screw me over if you thought I was a liability for the campaign?”

“That’s a pretty speech. But the truth is you’re only objecting because you want her.”

Lee choked on his answer.

“Fuck her if you want to, but don’t fuck up the investigation because you’re thinking with your dick.”

“I’m not thinking with my dick.” But he was afraid he was.

“Christ. I can’t believe this. You’ve never fallen for anyone. Why Erica? Why now?”

Lee was silent. Memory of the warm light in Erica’s eyes when he held her at the FDR memorial came to mind. Finally he said, “I don’t know. So what are you going to do?”

JT leaned back in his chair and relaxed as though their confrontation was of no consequence, while Lee struggled to maintain his calm.

A wicked grin played across JT’s features. “She believes you’re twenty-five and a lazy intern, right?”

Lee nodded.

JT snickered. “Good luck, Skippy.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY

E
RICA RESTED HER HEAD
on the desk. She could feel the clock ticking away the minutes until the environmental assessment was due, but the report had large gaps. It was Sunday afternoon, and all she had was speculation. She needed to
prove
Andrew Jackson Higgins’s company had invented Thermo-Con.

If she could do that, the historic value of the house would increase, and therefore, the human bones in the basement would be more troubling for Sam Riversong. He couldn’t
let sleeping dogs lie
; he’d have to investigate. Which meant he’d have to meet with her again.

Unfortunately, the Higgins name on the patent card wasn’t Andrew Jackson Higgins. She reread the book description online. The book was a biography, titled
Andrew Jackson Higgins and the Boats that Won World War II
. She’d called every bookstore in DC and none had the title in stock. She would call the publisher first thing tomorrow morning. If she could speak to the author, maybe he could confirm her theories about Thermo-Con and Higgins.

She clicked on a search-engine icon and followed the link to people search, finding nothing promising when she typed in the author’s name. She studied her notes from the patent office. The patent had been filed under two names: Johnson and Higgins. On a whim, she typed in the full Higgins name, giving Louisiana, where Higgins Industries had been located, as the state.

She felt a flutter in her belly as one listing appeared. She shrugged it off. It wasn’t possible. The patent was over fifty years old.

She went back to the report and read through what she’d written. It was fairly good, but it would be better if all the supposition and theory could be replaced with fact.

The result of the people search nagged at her. What did she have to lose? She picked up the phone and dialed. A young man answered the phone, and she asked to speak with the man named on the patent.

“He doesn’t live here anymore, but I can give you his number.”

“Maybe you can tell me if he’s the person I’m looking for. I’m trying to find a man who worked for Higgins Industries just after World War II? He’s named on a patent for what I think is a type of concrete known as Thermo-Con.”

“Oh, you’re talking about my grandpa, he worked for Higgins Industries. I thought you were asking for my dad, who has the same name, but is junior. My grandpa worked on Thermo-Con. He died a long time ago, but you can call my dad. He can tell you all about grandpa.”