Exposed (26 page)

“You’re thinking the shooter is a hit man?” Dave asked, once they were in the car.

Frank shrugged. “Whoever is after Sydney was able to find her computer through her IP address. Not the usual abilities of an amateur. Then there’s the double-tap to the cop’s head.”

“So, you’ve stepped into a pile of horse shit.”

“Hip deep.”

“I have one question,” Dave said with a grin as he drove onto High Street, heading back to Doyle’s place in Clintonville.

“What?”

“Is she worth it?”

“Absolutely,” Frank answered without hesitation.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Sydney sat in the overstuffed chair occupying the corner of Doyle’s command center as she worked on the photos from her Vermont trip on her laptop.

After Frank and Dave had left to meet with the police officer, she’d finished up in Doyle’s darkroom, cleaning it exactly as he’d had it before she’d invaded the space. Even standing back to admire it and laugh at how Castello would approve of her efforts.

She had to admit, she might like teasing the big guy about his near-OCD neatness, but there was something to admire in someone who could be so consistent. It spoke of a steady strength. A smile toyed on her lips. But even he had his limits, and she was the one capable of pushing him over that line.

“What’s got you grinning like the cat that ate the cream?” Doyle asked from his spot by the monitors.

“Just thinking Frank would appreciate how neatly I cleaned up your darkroom,” she answered, hoping the older man couldn’t see the blush in her hot cheeks.

“Our Marshal is a bit of a neat freak, is he?”

“Calling Castello a neat freak is like saying the Pope is Catholic,” Jake said, returning with two mugs of coffee and more of the cookies his wife sent.

“That bad?” Doyle asked, taking one of the mugs.

“Not really,” Sydney said, suddenly wanting to defend Frank’s habits.

“Oh, yeah, it’s that bad,” Matt said, whirling around on one of the swivel chairs at the computers to snag two cookies. “He color-coordinates his poker chips on poker night.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Sydney set her laptop aside. “You can calculate how much you have if they’re in different piles. I do that when I play.”

A grin settled on Matt’s face and his eyes crinkled. “Yes, but do you line them up in monetary order? Lowest to highest?”

Sydney laughed. “No, I don’t go that far.”

“You should try it,” Frank said from the doorway, the deep rumble teasing her senses and warming her from the inside out. “Easiest way to tell if you’re winning or losing.”

She met his dark gaze across the room. “Did you learn anything new?”

Shaking his head, he never took his eyes off her. His gaze slowly swept over her from head to toe, as if assessing if she was still in one piece or if this whole affair had finally gotten to her. She straightened in her seat, gave him a whisper of a smile and nodded once.

All her life people kept thinking she was some little doll, easily broken. But from the day her father died she knew she was tougher than people thought and she wanted Frank to know he could count on her.

He returned her nod.

“It was more a mission to soothe ruffled feathers, rather than actually gain information,” Dave said, as he stepped around Castello. “No cop likes someone stepping into their case and taking over. Especially another agency entirely, and especially not on a cop killing. But Chambers seems to be on board with us. We assured him Abrams was collateral damage in a bigger case.”

“And if my brother hadn’t been trying to blackmail someone, Detective Abrams wouldn’t have been working the arson case in my house explosion. He wouldn’t have been killed.” Sydney stood and left the room. She wandered into the front room, and stopped at the window to look out into the dark night.

She felt Frank’s presence behind her, before his big hands settled on her shoulders.

“It’s not your fault,” he quietly said.

“It’s my brother’s, and since he’s family, it makes it my fault, too.”

Castello’s hands tightened on her shoulders. Slowly, he pulled her back against his body. They stood that way for a while, watching the rain come down in a slow, steady beat.

“My parents died when I was just five,” he said, breaking the silence. “I didn’t have any brothers or sisters. I went to live with my grandfather. Granddad was an old-school kind of guy. Straight military from World War Two. Not a lot of hugging when you were hurt, but lots of discipline when you screwed up. He believed in rewarding good work and holding a person accountable for their actions.”

She reached up to hold one of his hands. “Did he…did he beat you, if you didn’t obey?”

God, she hoped not. No child deserved that.

“Corporal punishment was only used once, when I nearly caused the death of another boy. We’d been watching daredevil motorcyclists, and I took it in my head that we could ride our bikes off a cliff overlooking a lake. Granddad didn’t want me taking life, mine or anyone else’s, for granted. Afterwards, I couldn’t sit for a week, but when I could, part of my punishment was helping my friend do his homework. He’d broken an arm and a leg.” Frank laced his fingers with hers. “Granddad’s discipline was more on the line of doing things right the first time. Respecting the things you have by taking care of them. Putting things away in the right spot—”

“So you know where they are when you need them.” She couldn’t help the smile. Now she understood where his near-compulsive orderliness came from.

“Yes. And being responsible for your own actions. My friends and I broke a neighbor’s window playing ball. I knew I’d be in more trouble if I ran away like the others. So, I told Granddad. He took me to the neighbor’s house so I could tell him, then they agreed that I would work off the cost of the window by doing yard work.”

“I think I would’ve liked your grandfather.”

“He would’ve liked you.”

Humor laced his voice, and she’d bet the corners of his mouth had lifted in that half-smirk of his. His lips pressed against the side of her forehead.

“But Granddad would be the first to tell you that you can’t be responsible for another’s actions. Only your own. Your brother chose to use those pictures for his own personal gain. The men who killed Annabeth chose to do so. And the person who sent this killer to silence you chose to kill Abrams. None of it is your fault, Syd.”

A throat cleared behind them.

They turned to find Dave standing in the doorway.

“Hate to interrupt, but the boy genius is on the line with information for us,” he said, then left them alone again.

“We should go,” Sydney said, moving to step around Frank.

He stopped her. “I want you to say it.”

“Say what?”

“That you know none of this is your fault.”

“Frank, Luke and Abby are waiting.”

“Say it, Syd.”

The damn man wasn’t going to let it go. She might as well say it, even if she didn’t really believe it.

“Okay. None of this is my fault.”

“Say it enough times, and you’ll start to believe it,” he said, before dropping his mouth onto hers for a quick kiss.

“
Before I get to what you asked me for, my beautiful wife had a great idea,
” Luke was saying as they entered the command center once more. “
Since almost everyone these days has some sort of phone or notebook with a camera feature, she suggested we search social media sites for photos of the fire scene. So we’ve sent you what we found in a little file of videos and photos titled wedding. Might find someone interesting in them
.”

Doyle had his land line hooked up to be a speaker phone, so they could all listen.

“
I had to go into the dark web to hide my tracks, and bounced the signal around the globe through about twenty different satellites, but I managed to get the name of the driver issued that particular SUV
,” Luke said.

“Okay, kid, quite bragging on your hacking skills and tell us who drove that car,” Jake said.

“
You’re going to love this. It was…Joe Smith.
”

“Shit,” Dave muttered.

“You’re kidding, right?” Matt said.

“
No. That’s who the car is registered to. Couldn’t get which detail it was on, either
.”

That elicited more cursing from the brothers.

Jake signaled for the others to quiet down. “Luke, listen to me very carefully. You and Abby need to change hotels. Now. Right this minute.”

“
Don’t need to, Jake.
”

“Yes, you do. Joe Smith is the cover they give black ops crews. They’re some nasty people with equally nasty skills—skills like yours. You’re not safe in your little hideaway anymore.”

“
I figured that might be the case when you called to ask the favor. Abby and I chartered a helicopter to the big island, went incognito with big hats and sunglasses to avoid facial rec cameras, and scored a private couple’s sauna to do our hack
.” He chuckled and the brothers shook their heads. “
I even signed us in as…Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Already on our way back to the heliport.
”

“Dump the burner phone as soon as we’re done, and watch your back just the same,” Jake said.

“
Aye-aye Captain! See you all in a week.
” A pause happened, and mumbling could be heard. “
Oh, and Abby says to tell Marshal Dillon to take care of our friend
.”

The phone went silent.

“Will they really be safe?” Sydney asked, warmed by the message from Abby.

“Yeah, Luke isn’t going to let anything happen to Abby,” Dave said. “She’s the most important person in the world to him.”

“More importantly,” Matt said, focusing on the encrypted file the newlyweds had sent, “Abby won’t let anything happen to Luke. She’ll keep him focused, now that they know there’s a threat.”

“Do you really think whoever is after me has the reach to get to Luke and Abby so far away?”

“Yes,” Frank said, with such complete conviction that shivers ran over Sydney’s skin.

She studied the solemn faces of the other four men. They were worried. Her heart sank. Ian hadn’t just put his life at risk, nor hers. His corrupt narcissism had put this whole family, including Castello and Doyle, in danger. How could he be such a bastard? If she could get her hands on him right now, she’d choke the living daylights out of him.

“What can I do to help?” she said, determined to make this right somehow.

“Do you have the pictures you took the day after the fire at your place?” Frank asked.

“Yes,” she said, going to her camera case laying on the floor next to the comfy chair she’d vacated earlier. “Why?”

“Maybe we could put them on the monitors with the images Luke got from the night of the fire,” Frank said.

“And see if anyone looks familiar from both.” She couldn’t help the excitement. Finally, they’d be doing something other than guessing and running.

“You get started with Matt. I’ll drop our bags off upstairs.” Frank said.

“Wait, our bags?” she asked.

“For the time being, we’re staying here. It’s safer.”

As he left the room, she realized he was right. Doyle’s place had enough cameras to warn of an invasion, and more security than Fort Knox. Not to mention, all the men currently in the house with them were armed like old-fashioned gunfighters expecting trouble. Heck, all she needed was a schoolmarm outfit and horses outside, and they’d be reenacting a fight scene from one of her favorite Western romance novels.

Something occurred to her as she took her seat next to Matt and slipped her photo stick into the USB port of the hard drive.

“If you are all here to protect Castello and me, who’s with your families?” she asked him.

“Sami, Katie, and Judy are taking a surprise vacation. They’ve moved all our family, including Mom and Dad, to a family farm in Eastern, Ohio that’s been in the family for nearly a century,” Matt said, as he pulled up another screen with a black-and-white video feed, showing four camera views. Two seemed to be outside a farmhouse, front and back. The other two were inside. One in a living room, the other in a kitchen, where the four women were milling about. “The farm isn’t listed as belonging to any close family members, so hopefully no one will be looking for any connection between Frank and the owner, our cousin, Zoe.”

“But who will protect them?”

Matt grinned. “Trust me, my wife and sister aren’t unarmed, and neither is my dad. Besides, no one gets fiercer than mama lions protecting their young.”

* * * * *

“Someone’s been accessing files.”

This was not what he wanted to hear. With Geist failing to take out the blackmailer twice now, the last thing he needed was to discover someone had gotten the scent of his plans.

“Which files?”

“Vehicle assignments,” the voice on the other end of the line said shakily.

Fuck. That meant someone was looking for a certain car, and he was pretty damn sure it was the one he’d used to move the Kelly girl’s body.

“Have you determined who it was?” He picked up a pen and began clicking the tip in and out.

“I’m working on it, sir. This guy’s good. He’s got the signal bouncing through black sites, all over the world, and satellites no one is supposed to know even exist.”

“I don’t give a damn how good he is. I pay you to be better. Find him.”

He hit the disconnect button and fought the urge to hurl the piece of electronics against the river-stone-covered fireplace. Instead, he strode over to the wet bar in his den, pulled out the bottle of nearly fifty-year-old whisky, and poured two fingers’ worth into a cut-crystal tumbler. He’d worked hard and with diligent care to get where he was. He’d be damned if some blackmailer was going to destroy it all.

Things were spiraling out of control. And if there was one thing he detested, it was not being in control.

Standing by the fireplace, he stared into the flames licking at the cedar logs and sipped his drink. The key was to take care of all the loose ends before any of the threads led back to him. To ensure it was done to his own satisfaction, he’d have to handle the job himself.