Deadly Sins (19 page)

“That begs the question of how he’d know I am attached to this case. The information isn’t even widely disseminated throughout the bureau. There’s a reason we’re given individual briefings daily.”

She blinked at him. That possibility had escaped her. She’d assumed it was so Hedgelin could keep closer tabs on Adam. “All right. But people
do
know. Look at everyone we’ve interviewed. And it could have been leaked at a higher level. How else do you explain the sudden recurrence of the attempts?”

“I can’t.” He shook his head, the gesture frustrated. “This Ferrell . . . he’s hardly in the same league as Jennings. Makes it difficult to imagine the same man hiring him.” Adam’s sudden grin was grim. “But I suppose even assassins can be difficult to line up on short notice.”

His humor escaped her. Throat suddenly dry, she bent her head to sip from the soda. “Let’s imagine for a moment that it’s someone involved with this investigation. Maybe someone we’ve talked to. Someone who knows your reputation and recalls the media reports about your near-death experience in May. The killer we’re looking for could feel threatened by you. Figures any attempts on your life will be blamed on whoever was trying to kill you back then.”

“He’d likely be correct.” He took his phone out and looked at it as it vibrated. A flicker of impatience crossing his expression, he put it away without answering. “At any rate, if his intent is to get me removed from the case, he very nearly succeeded. He wouldn’t have had to kill me necessarily. If I’d shot Ferrell last night, I would have been jammed up in my own investigation, effectively ending my involvement with this case.”

“Maybe we’re making this too difficult.” She tried to push aside emotion and think logically. “Who benefits from your death?”

“That avenue’s a dead end. The business would go to Paulie, the estate to Monsignor Benton. I trust both those men with my life.”

She considered him for a moment. “Friendship is important to you. I get that. But maybe this time you need to put it aside and think about yourself. This case exposes you. Brings renewed interest to bear. No one would expect you to continue at risk to your own life.”

He looked insulted, but she hadn’t expected any differently. “If I thought I was putting you or Shepherd at risk, I’d step aside, believe me. But other than the shooting in Philadelphia last May, an attempt has never been made when I’m not alone. I think the two of you are safe enough.”

Jaid slapped her hand on the table with enough force to draw the attention of the other patron sitting at the bar. Leaning forward, she demanded, “What about you, Adam? What about your risk? Your safety?”

His stunned expression was as telling as a shout. He didn’t have to tell her that it hadn’t been a consideration. She straightened in her chair, shaken by the strength of her reaction. He’d told her once that everyone felt fear. That it was a healthy response to danger. But that a good agent used it to fuel logic rather than relying on emotion.

“Fear is a tool—”

“Not an excuse. Yes, I remember the mantra.” Because it gave her something to do, she removed the straw and lifted the glass to her lips. “I’d suggest that not acting on it at all is more stupidity than anything else, but it’s doubtful you’ll listen.”

“Do you honestly think I’m standing still on this? I have some of the best people in the country working for me. We’re looking into it, Jaid. I’ve taken precautions, far more than I’m comfortable with. You can’t expect much more than that.”

“Yes, I learned the danger of expectations with you long ago.” The words hung in the air between them, tinged with bitterness. The moment they left her mouth, she wanted to call them back. It was demoralizing to recognize the feelings they elicited. Feelings she’d thought buried years ago.

Adam stilled. The only sign of an answering response was the muscle that jumped in his cheek. For a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer. Hoped he didn’t. There was no point rehashing old history.

“I don’t linger on regrets.”

Offering him a tight smile, she gathered up her purse. He’d answered the questions she had. There was no more to be accomplished here. “Good advice.”

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t have them.” His voice was low. Intense. “One was losing my weapon at LeCroix’s.”

There was a light in his eye, a dangerous burn. “You’re the other. I handled things badly eight years ago. I know that. But regret doesn’t change anything. The strongest are those who put regret behind them and find a way to go on. You did that. Your son is proof of it.”

She felt battered by his words and the questions they raised. Was he referring to the way their relationship ended or the fact that he started it in the first place? But now wasn’t the time to focus on his meaning. Not when the delicate issue of Royce had been introduced.

No one knew the truth about his parentage. Not even her mother.
Especially
not her mother. “I did, yes. You’re right about one thing—regrets are useless. And so is dredging up ancient history.” She managed a smile, rose from her seat. “Thanks for the reminder. I need to get home to my son.”

The tension eased from his shoulders, and he nodded. “I don’t want to place you in the middle of this. I’ll be discussing these events with Hedgelin myself.”

Comprehension dawned. “That was him on phone just now?”

He nodded. “Not a conversation that I look forward to, but I made sure a copy of last night’s police report was directed to him. He can’t say I didn’t keep him informed.” His smile was humorless. “Although he’ll have plenty else to say on the topic, I’m sure.”

“I’m not sorry to be missing the conversation. There’s an undercurrent between the two of you whenever you’re in the same room.” Both were powerful men in their own right. Hedgelin by virtue of his position, and Adam because of the reputation he’d built over the years. “I know it has to do with your last case together. When you were partnered to track down LeCroix.” She stopped then, a belated sense of caution rearing. She’d never know what had her shoving it aside to add, “There are some who claim he rode that case to his present position. That he put his own spin on the events that led to your capture.” She stopped then, certain she’d said too much.

But Adam merely nodded. “We all have our own unique grasp of reality. The final report has my accounting in it. If some chose not to believe it . . .” He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. Maybe it didn’t to him. He’d left the bureau for good after his endless surgeries and rehab. Started his own forensics firm a short time later and built an international reputation with it.

Hesitating by the table for a moment, she said, “Try to play nice at your upcoming meeting. He’d make a formidable adversary. And in light of recent events, it doesn’t appear that you can afford another one.”

Adam considered the man seated across the table from him as Jaid’s parting words echoed in his head. Formidable? Nothing about Cleve Hedgelin’s appearance would suggest it. He looked like a banker. An accountant.

But appearances could be deceptive. Hedgelin had been a good agent in his day. But any danger he posed now stemmed solely from his position.

And how he would use it to elbow Adam out of this investigation if he could.

The waitress replaced his water with a Scotch. It was bourbon for Hedgelin. The man reached for the glass and took a healthy swallow before loosening his tie, sending a look around the bar.

“I’ve never been inside. Nice place.” He looked at Adam, brow raised. “What were you doing here?”

“Met an old friend for a chat.” It had been a strategic move on his part to suggest this bar for their conversation when he called Hedgelin back. If this meet were going to have more muscle behind it, the man would have insisted on conferencing back at FBI headquarters. His eventual acquiescence on the location had given Adam valuable time and information. Whatever the assistant director wanted to say to him, Hedgelin was still on his own.

Which of course didn’t mean he wasn’t taking his orders from higher up.

“So.” Adam took a sip from his own drink. Approved. Mojy’s had always stocked top-shelf liquor. “You got last night’s police report.”

“Jesus, Adam.” Hedgelin’s pale brown eyes were magnified behind the rimless glasses. “No offense, but you’ve got a dark cloud hovering over you.”

“Or a lucky one.” One finger tapped the side of his glass. “Ferrell didn’t succeed in his attempt to turn me into pink mist.”

The other man grimaced. “Don’t even joke about it. You have to admit there’s too much on your plate to continue investigating these murders. Hell, you’ve got all you can do just dodging would-be assassins and staying alive.”

“The attempts usually happen when I’m alone.” He parroted the same assurance he’d given to Jaid. Was certain it was met with the same lack of enthusiasm. “Nothing about them has anything to do with my presence on the task force. And despite how hard you try, I don’t think you or the director can use this to convince the attorney general otherwise.”

When a flush darkened Hedgelin’s cheeks, Adam knew he was correct. The man had probably made a flurry of phone calls that day and had obviously been unsuccessful, or he’d have led with that info.

“I’m asking you to do the right thing here. Voluntarily take yourself off the task force. No one would blame you. It’s not going to tarnish your carefully cultivated hero status. But you are a distraction on this case.”

“That argument would have more merit had you not used it to try to keep me off it to begin with. And there’s been no ‘carefully cultivated’ status. I think that’s your MO, not mine.”

Hedgelin took off his glasses and carefully cleaned them with a handkerchief taken from his pocket. “I’m not the one with a Pulitzer Prize–winning journalist writing my life story.”

Anger flared. Bolton had been a sore spot since he first targeted Adam as a subject for his next release. It took more effort than it should have to keep his voice even. “He hasn’t gotten any help from me, and he won’t. I wonder if the same can be said for you.” Although it had been a shot in the dark, it was obvious his words hit their mark.

Hedgelin settled the glasses back on his nose, brushed at some invisible lint on his lapel. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you?” Adam murmured. “I’m unconvinced. I know your tells, Cleve. We were partnered for over two years. You get this twitch in your right eye when you’re not being entirely truthful. So you talked with Bolton at some point. Why? To get your own version of the LeCroix case in the manuscript?”

“I don’t make a habit of . . .”

“You did.” Disgusted, Adam sat back in his chair. Few people managed to surprise him. He couldn’t say why he was taken aback this time. Maybe if he’d kept better tabs on bureau gossip in the time since he left, he would have suspected as much. It had taken Jaid’s warning to plant the idea. Hedgelin’s reaction cemented his certainty.

The man gripped his glass tightly, nearly spilling its contents when he leaned over the table to hiss, “I have a position to maintain. I’m not like you; I didn’t take the easy way out and quit. I’ve paid my dues, and then some, and I deserve to be where I’m at based on my own merits. There’s nothing to be served by resurrecting that case all over again. And who knows what sort of license a reporter will take with the facts. So damn right, I talked to him, and I set the record straight. You never should have gone after LeCroix yourself once I was out of contact. What happened to you was a result of your own perceived superpowers, not because I failed you.”

“The easy way out?” Adam’s laugh was humorless. “You do have an interesting take on things.”

The man had the grace to flush, but when he straightened, his hand still clenched the glass in front of him. “I’m not without sympathy for what you suffered.”

The word burned through him like a brand. “I don’t want your sympathy, Cleve.” Sympathy was just another word for pity, and he’d spent his life making damn sure no one had reason to pity him. “By the time I knew you were out of contact, I’d already trailed him to his lair. What was I supposed to do, stand outside with my dick in my hand while he savaged that kid like he did all the others?”

Hedgelin took a long pull from his drink. He looked as though he was in need of the fortitude. “We both made choices. I’m sick of defending mine.”

“No one asked you to.” Picking up his glass, Adam drained it before returning it to the table. “But maybe you should examine your true reasons for wanting me off this investigation.”

“My true reasons are echoed by my superiors. They haven’t changed.” He hesitated before reluctantly adding, “When do you think you’ll have a profile ready?”

The question didn’t strike Adam as contradictory. Profiling was a specialty of his, and he was expected to bring something to this investigation that no one else could. “I can finish the preliminary tonight and have it ready for you tomorrow.”

The man gave a jerky nod and rose, leaving his drink half-full. “You wanted honesty, so here’s some for you. I’m going to continue to do whatever I can to get you removed. Not because of our history, but because your services are unnecessary and the baggage you bring along is a distraction.”

Adam inclined his head. He’d expect no less. And as long as he could sidestep the attempts on his life, he’d remain on the case.

He watched Hedgelin exit the bar, tension making his spine ramrod straight. It wasn’t Hedgelin’s “honesty” that had Adam troubled in any case.

It was wondering how he’d missed the fact that his expartner resented him so deeply.