Blind Spot (15 page)

“You think he might have set me up? The thought had crossed my mind. I’m not completely stupid.”

Nathan fished for his wallet and threw down a few bills to cover the food before Sam could object. “This isn’t something we can sit on, twiddling our thumbs. You do realize that?”

“I know. But what if Donna Howard was involved? We can’t bring it to the police.”

Nathan frowned. “I need to take a look.”

“I don’t think we should go back to our place.” And heading to Rachel or Yuri’s would only put their friends at risk.

“Agreed.”

NATHAN DROVE
them an hour north, closer to the Massachusetts border. Luckily there was no trace of the silver sedan, and nothing out of the ordinary happened on the trip. They registered under false names and settled into a much nicer hotel room. Sam booted up his computer and inserted the flash drive so Nathan could check it out while he showered.

“Everything’s on here?” Nathan asked, scanning the file contents.

“Yeah. Except for the tax stuff.”

“Got it.” Nathan carried the computer to the desk. He was so wrapped up in reading and clicking, he didn’t even notice when Sam stripped and headed for the bathroom.

He found a gorgeous blue-and-white marbled wet room with three showerheads, a bench, and a sliding glass door dividing the shower portion from the rest. Fluffy white towels were laid out in a fresh pile on top of a waist-high wooden shelf. Sam ignored his reflection in the mirror, stepped under the tap, and groaned as warm spray began to flow from every direction. He stood there for a long time, letting the water stream over his aching muscles. He was too tired for anything else.

Of course he understood Nathan’s desire to see the evidence as soon as they arrived. It was the FBI agent in him, and they were working on borrowed time. But Sam couldn’t help feeling something had shifted between them. Aside from the hug when they first saw each other, Nathan hadn’t been physically affectionate all morning. He was probably angry about Sam putting himself in danger. But it was more than that. Almost like he couldn’t look at Sam for too long. Was it guilt—or disgust? Sam wasn’t sure, and neither alternative was appealing.

He could hardly remember their conversation from the night before, save for the fact he’d cried like a goddamn baby. It was the definition of pathetic. Small wonder Nathan wouldn’t touch him.

He wasn’t going to do it again, but even as the thought entered his mind, he craved a drink to take the edge off his hangover.

No.

He grabbed the bodywash and lathered himself up. It smelled like his father’s old aftershave, and his throat went hot and itchy as a long-forgotten memory flooded over him. He was thirteen, in the bathroom with his father’s razor, sprouting the first few growths of beard on his chin. His father walked in and chuckled, but Sam saw the pride on his face too. He showed Sam the correct way to shave, letting Sam lather his face, even though he didn’t need more than a few cursory swipes. When they were finished, his father splashed a cool, burning liquid onto Sam’s cheeks and neck. Sam grimaced but didn’t complain, and his father rewarded him with a smile and a firm pat on the back.
You’re a man now, son.

Once he’d showered and shaved, he returned to the bedroom with one of the fluffy towels wrapped around his waist. Nathan was still at the computer, but he looked up.

“Feel better?”

“A little.” Sam came closer. “So, what do you think?”

“I think we need to do some serious strategizing.”

“You think the mob killed him?” Sam dropped the towel. He was gratified when Nathan tracked his eyes over his body, but the ogling didn’t last long. Even as Sam’s cock started to fill hopefully, Nathan looked back at the screen. The rejection sent another wave of disappointment and confusion through him. He reached for his clean boxer briefs and turned away to pull them up.

“Maybe,” said Nathan. “But that doesn’t explain why you were chased. It seems to me Rick Morgan or someone who had something to lose by the association must be involved.”

“What about the mayor’s wife or her lover?”

Nathan nodded. “Could be. Whatever the case, my bet is whoever chased you isn’t going to give up easily.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

“Come over here.” Sam pulled on a T-shirt and approached. He stood about a foot from Nathan, unsure if he should get closer while Nathan maximized a PDF of some of the mayor’s e-mails. Sam watched Nathan’s long, capable fingers glide over the keyboard. He smelled fresh, like he’d sprayed some cologne while Sam was showering. Sam leaned to see the screen, and his throat tightened with longing. The Nathan he remembered would never be able to resist the proximity. This Nathan didn’t seem interested at all.

“What am I looking at?” Sam asked, trying to disguise the misery in his voice.

Sam had read the e-mails over before. They seemed to be in a code based on sports references, but he hadn’t made much sense out of them.

“It’s meant to sound innocuous.” Nathan frowned as he scrolled down. “Take a look at this.” He pointed at the screen. The e-mail address was random, consisting only of numbers and letters, and it wasn’t signed.

“Someone working for the Voronkovs?” Sam asked.

“I think so.” Nathan scrolled back up. “Here’s the first one, dated March 4, 2014. Sounds like an introductory e-mail.
‘Don’t worry about missing out on any games. I’ll have the tickets for you when you need them. Let me know how many you want.’
”

“Right around the time of Sheldon and Hoff’s trial.” It had only been a year and a few months, but so much had happened since then, it seemed like much longer.

“I’m thinking this person could be the connection who took over for Hoff once he and Sheldon were out of the picture,” said Nathan.

“And tickets could be code for money or drugs. How quaint.”

Nathan sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “All we know so far is that these payoffs were happening. We might have a motivation for murder in these files, but like you said, it could have been personal rather than political. I’d like to look into this supposed affair, see if there’s any truth in it. But the first thing we need to do is find the owner of this e-mail address.”

“How?”

“I’m going to put in a call to Tony, if it’s all right with you. He’ll be discreet about getting the ball rolling.”

Sam frowned. The last time he saw Rivera, they got drunk together. He hoped the guy would keep his mouth shut and give Sam the chance to tell Nathan on his own. In any case they couldn’t even go back to their apartment until the whole thing was sorted. Who knew how long it would take? Or if Nathan would even want him to come back….

“All right,” he said with some reluctance. “If you think Rivera will help.”

“Of course he will. Oh. And one more thing. This man in the photo, the one with Hoff and White?” Sam looked as Nathan brought up the picture of the mayor and the white-haired man smoking cigars. “That’s Victor Voronkov. I honestly can’t believe Collins managed to get a picture of him.”

“Holy shit. The head of the family?”

“None other.”

“But I thought he lived in Moscow?” One of the frustrations of dealing with a crime family like the Voronkovs was that the leaders couldn’t be extradited to the States. Their underlings and made men carried out their orders, and when they were jailed or killed, others rose to take their place—like a hydra.

“He does,” Nathan agreed. “But this picture dates to 2007.”

“The year my parents died.”

As Sam absorbed the new information, Nathan busied himself with his call. Silver Sedan was looking for him and knew he had the contents of Barney’s safe-deposit box. What if, in trying to get to Sam, they got to his friends, or Tim instead?

Nathan must have noticed his expression. “What’s wrong?” he asked, pausing with his phone in hand.

“We need to go to Shady Brook. I need to see Tim.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Nathan’s frown deepened. Sam hated seeing him so worried, and he knew he’d fucked up badly. Maybe beyond repair. But his brother might need help.

“What if they know about Tim? Do you think they could try to use him against me?” His words almost caught in his throat.

Nathan seemed surprised by the idea, and then gave a quick nod of assent. “Why don’t you call Lisa while I talk to Tony? We can see about getting him transferred to a secure ward and hiring extra security. Cost isn’t an issue.”

Well, at least Nathan still cared about Tim. Sam tried to answer as many of Lisa’s questions as he could without giving away the reality of the situation. Luckily she got the hint pretty quickly. She was familiar with the kinds of cases Sam worked on.

“We got this, kid. He’ll be taken care of. We’ve been working with a great security firm, and I’ll make sure there are two guys on duty at all times.” After the arson in October, many patients’ families had been uneasy with their loved ones returning to the building—even if the perpetrators were in prison. In response the administration had new high-tech cameras installed, and they hired more on-duty guards.

“Thanks. How… how is he?” He hadn’t seen his brother since the day after the seizure, and the guilt of it ate at him.

She hesitated for a moment. “I’m sorry, hon, but there’s been no change.”

“I see.” It wasn’t like he really expected Tim to wake up. He was used to the disappointment. “Call me if anything happens. Okay?”

“Of course.”

Next Sam called both Yuri and Rachel and put them on the alert. Neither was exactly pleased to hear they had to keep their eyes and ears peeled. And unlike Lisa, they didn’t accept Sam’s vague answers without pushing back.

“Man, what’s going on? Did Nathan get you into something crazy?” Yuri sounded wary. Sam couldn’t exactly blame him. After being kidnapped and nearly left for dead by his ex’s sister and her deranged boyfriend, Yuri had earned the right to be skeptical.

“It has nothing to do with Nathan. But we’re taking care of it, and I wanted to let you know in case someone tries to approach you. Just… stay away from people in silver sedans, okay?”

“Riiight. Maybe I’ll crash at Nick’s to be on the safe side.”

“The twink from work? Are you fucking him?” Sam asked the question too loudly. Nathan raised an eyebrow from the other side of the room and then went back to his conversation with Rivera.

“A gentleman never tells.” Yuri was so full of shit. His self-satisfied tone made the truth clear enough.

“It’s a good thing you’re not a gentleman, then. How is it?”

“Best sex of my life.” Yuri said the words in a half sigh.

“Hey.”

“You wanted to know.”

The talk with Rachel went a little easier. “I haven’t heard from you in days. You’re sure you’re okay?” Rachel asked. There was noise in the background. It sounded a little like fighting, but was punctuated by occasional laughter. He was going to ask, but then he remembered Alex’s parents were visiting from Colorado.

“I’m fine. Nathan’s here now. Anyway how’s family time going? Did you tell them about the engagement yet?”

“Tonight’s the big night, actually. Wish me luck.” She sounded nervous.

“I do, Rach. I wish you all the luck in the world.” And with any luck, Silver Sedan would stay far away from Rachel. It helped she had family and friends close by.

Content his friends were as prepared as they could be, given the need for secrecy, Sam hung up and waited for Nathan, who was on the phone with Rivera and typing away on his work computer.

“So Tony’s going to run the e-mail address. See what he can find out,” Nathan said. “He’s getting a team together to look at the material on the drive. I sent it to him. Let’s just say city hall’s going to be in for a rude awakening very soon. And hopefully there’ll be something in the package that leads to the murderer.”

“But if the Feds start snooping around, whoever chased me will know I gave up the evidence. Won’t they come after me?”

Nathan narrowed his eyes. “It’s out of your hands, so it’s too late to stop the information from getting out. You should be safer. We’ll be okay here for a few days.”

Sam hoped Nathan was right. Part of him was irritated the Feds would get the credit for cracking the case. He felt strangely possessive of it. “I want to take another look at the list of suspects.”

“Be my guest.”

Nathan relinquished his seat and stood behind him. Another pang of longing shot through Sam. To distract himself he pulled up the list of suspects he created when he learned the mayor had been poisoned. He needed to regain the focus he’d lost.

Who Killed Mayor White?

Deputy Mayor?
Asked the first bullet point, which then listed the obvious motivation. Power and authority.

Nathan read over Sam’s shoulder. “He still seems to be a top suspect. Let’s keep him in play.”

His wife?
She found the mayor’s body and had most easy access to his food. While Sam originally thought the motivation might be anger at her husband’s drug use, Collins’s files suggested she might have had an additional reason.

“I think we can add
or her lover
to that one,” said Nathan.

“Agreed.” Sam did. “Okay. Next.
His dealer?
”

“Yes. Especially since we know about the mob connection now. On second thought, better make the Voronkovs a separate entry.” As Nathan spoke, he rested his hands on the back of the chair, and Sam felt it shift a little with the added weight. He wished Nathan would touch him instead.

The last entry,
someone with a personal vendetta
, was the vaguest and encompassed the largest group of people. Collins’s evidence didn’t provide much support for the theory, but appearances could be deceiving.

“Let’s keep it in mind,” said Sam through a yawn. Though it was only afternoon, he was exhausted. “But damn. That’s still a lot of suspects.”

“And they might even be working together,” said Nathan.

Sam read over the list again. He hoped he never lived to amass so many people who wanted to kill him.

“So, now what?” Sam turned around in his chair.