Sharpshooter (14 page)

Mercer leaned forward. “You’re talking about Gunner?”

“Yes.” A rasp. “He didn’t leave me to die, and he didn’t try to hurt Sydney.”

“Why does it sound like you’re attempting to convince yourself of that?”

Slade glanced at the floor, took a deep breath, then looked back up at Mercer. “Because when we were teenagers, there was this...this girl that Gunner liked. Sarah Bell. Sweet little Sarah Bell.” He could still see her in his mind. “She kind of looked like Sydney. Same light blond hair, same green eyes.”

“Why are you telling me this story?” Mercer snapped.

He jerked to attention. “Sarah Bell...she broke up with Gunner. Said he was too rough for her, too wild. Then a week later, Sarah died.”

He could still see all the flowers that had been at her funeral. Sarah had been particularly fond of roses. He’d put a dozen on her grave.

“Her whole family died,” he whispered. “A fire broke out in their house while they were asleep. Someone had disabled their smoke detector, then poured gasoline all over the first level of their home. The fire started and they...” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “The newspapers said that the family never had a chance. They didn’t wake up at all.”

“Did the police find the arsonist?”

He shook his head.

“And you think that relates to this case because...?”

Did he have to draw the guy a damn map? “Because Sarah was with Gunner, and she left him. He told me, he
told
me that he wasn’t going to let her go. She was his, and no one would ever take her from him.” His breath rasped out. “Now he thinks that Sydney is his...” He let the sentence trail away.

Silence. The kind that stretched too long; then, finally, Mercer said, “I thought you said you wanted to prove it’s not Gunner. Sounds to me like you’re making a case for the arsonist
being
him.”

“No, I—” He raked a hand over his face. “Maybe the drugs are still in my system. I’m being paranoid. I mean...the fires aren’t even the same M.O., right? I’m sure the fire at Sydney’s house wasn’t set by gasoline and the detectors weren’t disabled—”

“None of the alarms went off at Sydney’s house, and while the arson investigation is ongoing, preliminary indications are that gasoline was the accelerant used.”

He sagged in the chair. “But Gunner got her out? He was the hero last night, right? Not the bad guy.
Not
the arsonist.”

Mercer’s gaze gave nothing away.

“It can’t be him,” Slade whispered.

“If you’re so sure that it’s not him, then why are you in my office? Why did you tell Ms. Rogers that you had intel to give me?”

His hands dug deeper into the armrests. “Because...what if it
is
him? Our father...did Gunner tell you that he wound up in a mental ward? That’s where he died. He’d gone crazy, and attacked his latest girlfriend—tried to kill her.” His voice sounded hollow to his own ears. “We never saw him much growing up, but Gunner and I both always wondered...just how much like him were we?” He held Mercer’s gaze. “How much?”

Chapter Eight

Sydney stared at the computer screen before her, absolutely sure that there had to be some kind of mistake.

For six hours, she’d been working with the other techs. They’d gone back through the system, tracking their hacker. Gone through every system link they could find.

They’d narrowed down the security breach. It had happened three days ago, at 0300 hours. Long before anyone
should
have been in the office.

The Guerrero case file had been accessed, her personnel file had been accessed and Gunner’s file had been accessed. But according to the results she was seeing, their hacker had looked at Gunner’s file for only two seconds. That wasn’t long enough to learn any details. Just long enough to lead a cyber trail for them to follow. Long enough to show that someone had pulled the file.

Pulled it, but not scanned any information?

If their hacker wanted intel on Gunner, why not look longer? The hacker had been given access to her file for three minutes. He’d viewed all the Guerrero files for five minutes.

And it wasn’t that the hacker had been interrupted. According to the report she was generating, he’d viewed Gunner’s file first.

“Why?” Sydney whispered as she stared at the screen. He hadn’t gotten any data from Gunner’s file, so he’d gone there to what...lead a false trail? Gunner wasn’t the target, just her?

“Sydney, we found the pass code that was used to get into the system,” Hal West told her as he slid his chair toward hers. Hal was the lead systems administrator for the EOD.

She glanced up at him. A pass code would be needed to open the system, but their hacker had put a virus in place after he’d gotten access, and that pass code signature had been all but erased.

All but...

“It’s an old code, one that was initiated over two years ago.” Hal’s face looked strained. Considering that she knew the guy had been working the computers for most of the night—while she’d been escaping from the blaze—that strain was to be expected. “The agent we originally assigned the code to was given a new access number a year ago.” He shook his head. “Someone screwed up. When he got a new code, all privileges associated with the previous access should have been revoked. Someone didn’t terminate the code authorization and—”

“Hal!” she snapped out. “Which agent had that code?”

“Uh...right,” he said as his bleary blue gaze cut away from her and back to the nearby computer monitor. “Gunner Ortez.”

She shook her head, an instinctive denial. “Gunner wasn’t here when the files were accessed.” She didn’t even know why she said the words. Just—
not Gunner.

But Hal was tapping on his keyboard and nodding. “He wasn’t, or at least, the system says he didn’t gain entry until 0500, but...that’s his code.”

“Then someone has access to our archived codes. We need a complete wipe on the system. Even if you
think
those codes are clear, we’re purging them.” Her heart was beating faster. It could be a setup. She’d sure seen setups before. Poor Cale. Evidence had been planted left and right to frame him. She knew better than to jump hungrily at the first bone that was tossed her way.

But maybe their hacker didn’t know about the case with Cale. Maybe he didn’t realize the lesson that all of the Shadow Agents had learned then.

And maybe he didn’t fully realize...
we don’t turn on our own.

She hunched her shoulders and started tapping on her keyboard. This was an inside job, she didn’t doubt that, but it wasn’t Gunner. It wasn’t Logan. It wasn’t Cale. She trusted the other Shadow Agents with her life.

But she wouldn’t overlook any possibility. Logan had assigned her to gather intel, so she would. She’d start by going back through the personnel and access files of every agent and support staff member who’d entered the EOD in the past six months.

She wasn’t going to stop until she found more than just a red flag. She’d find hard evidence.

* * *

G
UNNER
STARED
AT
the charred remains of Sydney’s house. Only a shell remained, blackened, gutted. When he thought of Sydney in that fire, fear knifed into him.

“Good thing you were here.”

He glanced over to see Logan heading toward him. When Gunner had arrived moments before, Logan had been talking to the arson investigators.

Gunner remembered the brush of the fire on his skin as he ran up the stairs. “Yeah. Very good thing.” If he hadn’t been there...

“They actually found one of her smoke detectors. Fried, warped, but...” Logan glanced toward the house. “They managed to pry it open. The battery was missing.”

What?

“It’s definitely arson, of course. The chief says the point of origin was downstairs—actually, he says there were three points of origin. The guy wanted to make sure the house burned fast.”

“He wanted to kill Sydney.” Gunner’s rage darkened the world for a moment.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Logan give a grim nod. “Yes, he did. The perp used gasoline as the accelerant. Disabled the alarms, waited until she went to bed...” He glanced over his shoulder at the woods that lined her property. “Probably waited out here, watching her, and when he thought he had the perfect moment to attack, he went to work.”

The SOB.

“Why were you out here?” Logan’s question was quiet, tense. “I mean, you and Sydney seemed to be staying away from each other at first, and now—”

I won’t stay away from her again.
He’d only come out there to do some on-site investigating. She was nestled inside the EOD office. With all the agents there, with Cale pulling extra guard duty, she should be safe.

Gunner rolled his shoulders, trying to push some of the tension from his body. “I came last night because Slade wanted to talk to her. I came out here to try to convince her to go see him.”

Logan’s eyebrows climbed. “You think that’s a good idea?” He turned to fully face Gunner. “It’s just you and me, man. So cut the bull. I’ve
seen
the way you watch her. What are you thinking? That you’ll just step aside so he can have a shot with her again?”

Had he thought that? Or had he just felt so much guilt that he’d wanted to make amends?
I didn’t know he was alive.
But for two years, Slade had suffered. Two years.

“You’ve been a captive, too, Gunner. The things they did to you...” Logan shook his head. “Most men never would have come back from that.”

Logan had seen him, after he’d crawled from that jungle. With his body stitched everywhere, looking like Frankenstein’s monster.

“You’ve been through your own hell,” Logan continued. “Don’t you think you deserve some happiness, too?”

His hands clenched. “I wanted Sydney to have what—who—she wanted.”

“And you think that’s your brother? Uh, you might want to check that again. You’re the one she’s always watching. The way you watch her? With that too-intent gaze? Buddy, she watches you with the same stare.”

“She’s pregnant.” The words slipped from him. Not deliberate, or, maybe they were. Because he wanted to tell someone. He had to share the news with someone, and Logan had always been a good friend.

Logan’s eyes widened. “Yours?”

The question had him clenching his fingers into fists and taking a step forward. Maybe
not
such a friend for long.

Logan’s hands flew up. “Of course it’s yours! I meant, hell, I’m just stunned, okay? A baby... You and Sydney.” He shook his head, and a broad smile split his lips. “That baby is going to wrap you around her finger!”

Yes, he was pretty sure that she would.

“A baby,” Logan whispered, and his eyes widened. He glanced back at the house. “Oh, hell, man, you probably felt like your whole world was burning down last night.”

“It was.” Gunner didn’t tell him that he hadn’t known about the baby then. When he’d looked up and seen the flames, and known that Sydney was inside, yes, it had felt just as if his world was burning. Because it had been.

“We’re gonna find him,” Logan promised. “You know we will. With our resources...”

The EOD’s resources were limitless. But even the EOD couldn’t fight Mother Nature.

“A storm’s coming in,” Gunner said as his gaze rose to the thickening clouds above them. “That could wash away a lot of evidence.” His gaze focused on the line of trees. If the guy had been out there, waiting, he might have left tracks behind. Gunner was very, very good at following tracks. “I’m going to see what I can find.”

Logan nodded. “I kept the techs back because I figured you’d want first shot. Didn’t want them messing up the scene.”

Logan knew exactly how he liked to work.

“You lead the way,” Logan continued, “and they’ll be there to back you up.” Then Logan clapped him on the shoulder. “Congratulations, man, you’re going to make a great dad to that lucky kid.”

Gunner tensed. “I...hope so.”

Logan frowned at him. Before Logan could say more, Gunner headed toward the trees. He’d already scouted the area before, looking for the perfect vantage point that the attacker would have used. A spot that would provide him with good cover, but one that wouldn’t put him too far away from the scene. The arsonist would have needed to get to the house quickly, and then be able to rush back and hide when the flames blazed.

Gunner wondered how long the man had stayed there. Had he watched as Gunner ran inside?

He eased through the light covering of brush at the edge of the woods. He made sure not to snap any branches. He didn’t want to create any evidence confusion. His grandfather had taught him and Slade how to slip in and out of any place, without leaving any traces behind.

So far, he wasn’t finding any evidence. No footprints on the ground. No broken leaves or branches. The attacker had been careful.

But if he’d been watching for any length of time, he would have needed to find one spot. One perfect spot to sit and wait and watch. No matter how careful the man had been when he got in the woods, he would have left a sign at his waiting spot. Turned-down grass. A cigarette butt. Something. Most folks couldn’t just wait for a long time in total stillness.

Gunner could. Most couldn’t.

When they’d practiced with their grandfather, going out past the reservation and into the woods that surrounded the land there, Slade had always hated standing still. He’d taken to grabbing a piece of pine straw and braiding the pieces together, over and over, because Slade had needed something to keep his hands busy.

Some watchers smoked to help pass the time. A bad idea, because the prey could catch the scent of cigarettes in the air.

Some chewed gum. Some carried a toothpick.

Slade had twined the straw around his hand, an absent gesture, as he waited—and told Gunner what a stupid idea it was to follow their grandfather into the woods.

Gunner stilled and glanced back toward the house. This was the spot he would have chosen if he wanted to watch Sydney’s home—to watch and not be seen. If he crouched lower, he’d be totally covered by the trees before him, but if he wanted to see, then he just shifted a bit to the left.

He had a perfect view of what had been Sydney’s upstairs window.

He glanced down at the grass around him. It had bent, just a bit, enough to tell him that his instincts were right. The watcher had been here.

Gunner swept the ground with his gaze, looking for some kind of path. He’d been on the road last night, and there hadn’t been any other car on this dead-end street. That meant the watcher had stashed his vehicle some other place. Gunner knew that a highway waited, about four miles back through the woods. The guy would have needed to make a route back to that highway.

Gunner just had to find it.

The watcher was good. Gunner would give him that. It took him fifteen minutes of searching before he found the first broken branch. Sure, that branch could have been broken by a wild animal, but...

There was another snapped branch about ten feet away. Then another three feet.

The man had been in a rush to leave.

It was next to that snapped branch that Gunner stopped, frowning. He bent and picked up the braided pine straw that had been left behind.

He stared down at the straw, not wanting to believe what he was seeing. This threading...

He knew this threading.

When they’d been younger, Slade had tossed away pieces of straw like this dozens of times. His brother had twisted the straw, twined it around his hand, and—

“Gunner!”

He stiffened at Logan’s call and his fingers tightened around the braided pine straw.

“Did you find anything?” Logan was closing in.

Gunner lowered his hand, squared his shoulders and turned to face the other man.

* * *

G
UNNER
FOUND
S
YDNEY
typing frantically on the keyboard, her fingers flying. Her shoulders were hunched forward, and the light from the computer’s monitor clearly showed the scowl on her face.

Even though the door was open, he rapped lightly. Hal, the admin working right beside Sydney, glanced over at him. When he saw Gunner, the guy’s eyes doubled in size. “A-Agent Ortez.”

“Hal, can I have a minute alone with Sydney?”

Hal jumped to his feet. “Sure thing.” He gave Gunner a very wide berth as he hurried from the room.

Sydney just shook her head and kept typing.

Gunner frowned thoughtfully after the other man. “What’s with him?”

“You intimidate him,” Sydney said as she kept typing. “The way you intimidate most people you meet.” She exhaled and finally pushed away from the computer and her chair spun so she could face him. She stared at him, giving him a considering look. “I think it’s the eyes. The way they say, ‘Yes, I’ve looked into hell a few times.’”

He blinked at her.

She smiled at him. “But I’m rather fond of your eyes.”

No way were his cheeks flushing right now. Okay, perhaps they were, and he was very grateful for the olive skin that had to hide most of that flush.

Then her smile slipped away. “What did you find out at my house?”