Hidden Agenda (24 page)

He pulled her against his chest, feeling the warmth of her closeness as the tears she'd bottled up over the past few days began to flow. “All I know to do is to dig deeper until you remember that God knows exactly what's happening at this very moment. He cares, and no matter what happens, He will never leave you or Ivan.”

“You make it sound easy. Like if I wish hard enough, there'll be a silver lining when this is all over.”

Her statement made him pause. It was easy to spout out words of advice. What was difficult was actually putting them into practice. Memories of sitting in that cottage, waiting for Tomas to pull the trigger, waiting to die, flashed in front of him. He'd made peace with God, but even that didn't take away the terror of facing death. They'd bound him and beat him, forcing him to dig deeper than he ever had.

He'd repeated every verse he could remember.
Even though
I
walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I
will fear no evil . . .

I will fear no evil . . .

Surrounded by that evil's very presence had forced him to look at not just why there was evil, but to look to the One who would triumph over that evil.

“Michael?”

Her eyes pleaded with him to give her the answer. “It isn't easy. But I know He's there. Every moment. He's given me strength to face some of the darkest situations. And things haven't always turned out the way I've wanted them to. My brother-in-law was killed almost four years ago. Sometimes bad things happen to good people.

“So no, I can't promise you that everything is going to be okay, but I can promise you that we won't stop until we find Ivan. Until we put those who are responsible for this behind bars. But I've learned something else. Sometimes, you never get the answers to all the questions you ask. But sometimes, maybe that's okay.”

“What do you mean?”

“Over the past few days and weeks, I've found everything that I ever believed in questioned and at times stripped away. I've been forced to look at God in a different light. Sometimes there simply aren't answers. At least not the answers we're looking for. Walking through the fire forces us to face God. To strip our souls of all of the charades we play, until we see only Him. And in the end, we know Him better.”

Because God was good. God was truth. Even when he couldn't see the truth or get the answers he wanted.

Michael wanted to tell her how sorry he was for everything, wanted to find a way to fix everything . . . and tell her how he was falling in love with her.

He tried to shove the last thought back where it had come from, as the elevator doors slid open, but there was no going
back. No matter how hard he tried to fight it, no matter what happened at the end of the day, his feelings for the woman walking beside him had blossomed into something he hadn't even known he wanted. They'd already moved passed the typical superficial chitchat most relationships started with. Playing the dating game wasn't what he wanted. He wanted a woman who could love him for who he was. Who encouraged him emotionally and spiritually, and yes, who made his heart race like he was that high school geek on a date with the prom queen.

He laced his fingers between hers as he checked the hallway, then hurried toward the room. There were so many things he wanted to tell her when this was over. So many questions he wanted to ask her. He wanted to spend the next six months and beyond getting to know her dreams and aspirations. For now, though, he needed to deal with the whole tenuous situation. There would be time to focus on their relationship later.

“What do we do now?” she asked.

“We find Ivan. Find out who's behind this. Find that list of dirty cops.”

She squeezed his hand. “I don't know how you do this, trying to save the world every day.”

“I learned a long time ago that I'll never save the world. There will always be one more person who needs me. But I can help one person at a time, and today that person is Ivan.”

“Good, because I'm so scared right now, I need to know I'm not in this alone.”

He hesitated in front of the hotel door and held her against him until he could feel her breath on his face. “We both know that this might not end up all nice and packaged in a neat bow, but you're not in this alone. My family has a way of sticking together—and sometimes driving you crazy in the meantime—but it also means that we're in this together until it's over. That I can promise.”

He hated that he couldn't guarantee a happy ending. That he couldn't simply make everything okay for her. They needed to find Ivan. Needed to find that list. And needed to ensure that more innocent lives weren't taken because they were protecting him.

I
van watched the van door slam shut and felt the vehicle swallow him and Gizmo. He felt for the dog's leash and gripped it tight between his fingers, then struggled to sit up. They'd tied his hands behind him and gagged him, but at least they hadn't blindfolded him. Losing his sight terrified him.

He leaned down and nuzzled his head against Gizmo, wishing he could believe everything was going to be okay. But while he might not know names, he knew who he was dealing with. Every time he closed his eyes, he could still see Kendall lying on the ground. See the blood trickle down the dead man's skull. They'd murdered him in cold blood. Just like they'd murdered Felipe.

Now they had him, and he didn't even know why, unless it was because they preferred their murder witnesses at the bottom of the ocean.

He lifted his head, forcing himself to stay composed. He'd given his captors nicknames based on their physical features, like he did with most people. The Scarecrow was thin and pale, and clearly not the brains of the operation. The Tin Man was cold . . . and heartless.

He checked the time on the dashboard as they made another right turn. Three minutes later they were on the highway heading north.

They were talking, laughing about something. He scooted to the right until he could see the Tin Man's face in the rearview mirror, hoping he could catch something they were saying.

But the bottom line was, if they'd kidnapped him because he was Valez's son, and thought that would give them an advantage, they didn't know his father very well. His father might not blink at paying the bills, and he might have even loved their mother, but there'd never been much of a connection beyond the shallow relationship he had with his son. A reality Ivan had accepted years ago.

While his friends' fathers showed up for Little League games, Olivia had been the one standing along the bleachers cheering him on. There had never been father-son outings or trips to the beach. Antonio Valez had always been too busy to see that all Ivan had ever wanted was a father.

Now he understood why.

And maybe he'd been lucky, not knowing what his father had really been doing. But somehow, despite the distance between them, he still felt as if the sins of the father had piled on him as well.

The van pulled off onto a gravel road. Five minutes later, the Tin Man parked under a tree and shut off the engine. The van door slid open and the Scarecrow flashed him a cold smile before pulling his weapon from his holster and motioning for Ivan to get out. Ivan obeyed and started praying, because the only thing that could save him now was a miracle.

M
ichael sat on the couch in the center of the hotel room, his fingers drumming on the armrest as they waited for the captain to stop pacing. The man had been furious when Avery had made the initial phone call asking him to meet with them. Livid when he'd arrived and discovered that Michael had been found and Avery's entire team had been working behind his back the past six hours. Irate when he was introduced to Antonio Valez's daughter.

Now the captain stood in front of them, arms crossed, and a deep frown marking his ebony features, making Michael feel as if the consequences for every choice he'd ever made were about to all come due at the same time. More than likely, he was about to be tried and convicted in one breath, because Captain Peterson had the demeanor of a firing squad. Michael had no desire to be on the receiving end.

But it was already a bit too late for that.

Captain Peterson glared at Avery. “I'll be honest, I'm not even sure where to begin. I trusted you with this investigation, Detective North, even though it was against my better judgment for you to take on this case. But because you know more about it than anyone else on the force, it seemed the right thing to do. And now what do I find out? I find out that your brother has
been here for hours, while I thought I made it extremely clear that if you heard from him, I would be the first to know.”

“You did, sir.”

“And yet somehow”—the captain continued his pacing—“I'm the last one in this room to know what's going on.

“And you, Detective Hunt . . .”

The captain shifted his attention toward Michael, who winced, feeling as if he were five again, in trouble with the school principal.

“From what I've heard, you were involved in quite a bit of havoc over the past seventy-two hours, starting with a shooting at a convenience store, a stolen car, leaving the scene of an accident . . . and most recently, video surveillance shows that those two thugs our uniforms picked up this morning handcuffed to a pole were your work.”

Michael nodded. “Yes sir.”

“They are currently being held for questioning, but even that doesn't begin to explain the past eight months, your faked death, or Agent Kendall's death.”

Michael struggled with his answer. “I was following orders, sir.”

“And your plan . . . did it work?” the captain asked.

“No sir, it did not. Not completely.”

Avery looked up at the captain, her gaze steady. “Sir, there were a number of unexpected details that have come into play in this situation since we spoke last.”

“Details that I should have been made aware of.”

“We needed time to guarantee that Michael would be safe once he came forward.”

“And you didn't think you were able to trust me with that decision?” The captain continued speaking, not giving Avery a chance to respond. “You've led this team with integrity in the past, which is why I trusted you, but after today . . .”

“Yes sir.”

“And as much as I might sympathize with your position, I'm not sure at this point how this is going to end for you.”

“I'm willing to take full responsibility for my actions and those of my team, but we believe, sir, that Russell Coates was murdered by someone on the inside. We believe there are a number of officers being paid off by the cartel for information, and that this information puts my brother's life at risk.”

“You will all be dealt with later for not keeping me in the loop—”

“There's also the matter of a possible bomb, sir,” Michael said.

“A bomb?” The captain's frown deepened.

“We believe that someone—possibly a man by the name of Julio Salazar—has his eyes on Valez's territory and is planning to take it over with a bomb attack.”

“Where?”

“We're still working on that, sir.”

“Well, now that I'm a part of this—unofficial—party, would you mind clueing me in on your plan to find out where that bomb is going to go off?”

Olivia cleared her throat beside him. “I might have something.”

“Go ahead,” the captain said.

“While we were staying at Felipe's, we watched the news report about Sam Kendall's death and Michael being a person of interest. I'd like to go speak to the reporter who broke the news. Her name is Rebecca Pearce, and I believe we might be able to get some answers from her, in exchange for a few exclusive leads.”

“She's already been interviewed by the police, and didn't tell them anything,” the captain said. “Why should I send you to talk with her?”

“Because we go back a long way. If we could get the name of her source, it could help.”

“You think she'll give her source up?”

“I don't know, but I've already contacted her.”

“You've talked with her?” Michael asked.

Olivia nodded. “She's agreed to meet with me.”

“When?”

“Right away.”

“It's not safe for you to go out, Olivia—”

“Michael, my brother's missing. I'm not going to sit around here doing nothing, and I might be able to get her to talk.”

“It's not a bad idea,” the captain said. “Someone wanted that information leaked, and we need to know why. But in the meantime, let me advise you to heed this warning.” The captain's frown deepened the creases on his forehead. “If anyone in this group here so much as needs to sneeze, you'd better get permission from me first.”

Olivia shivered, despite the warmth radiating from the car's heater, as Michael pulled into the paved circular driveway at the front of the cemetery. She pulled her coat tighter, wishing for something heavier. Pressing her fingers into the edge of the seat, she wondered why Rebecca had wanted to meet here. She'd always hated cemeteries and the memories they dredged up of her mother's death. The scent of roses, the color black. And the icy feel of an engraved marble headstone.

She'd been twenty-two when her mother had died, two months after her college graduation. Ivan was just about to enter his teen years, and his mother's death left him feeling angry and deserted. It had been at her mother's graveside, watching the priest toss dirt onto her coffin, that Olivia had realized for the first time that she now had a brother to raise.

Somehow, she'd managed to hold on to her faith, but in the
dark places of her mind, and in times when God seemed far away, she couldn't help but ask the question, why?

She felt Michael's hand brush against her shoulder and turned to him, wondering how it was possible for her to come to trust someone so deeply whom she'd known for such a short time.

“Olivia?”

She caught the concern along with a hint of understanding in his eyes. “I'm sorry. My mind's wandering.”

“They're doing everything they can to find your brother.”

“I know.”

She wasn't even sure how to explain. She trusted Michael. Trusted his instincts and wisdom in the situation, but it was more than that.

“Are you having second thoughts about meeting with Rebecca?”

She blew her nose. “No. It's just that being here reminds me of when my mother died.”

“How old were you?”

“It was right after I graduated from college. I'd just landed my first job but had no idea what I was doing. I wanted to take care of Ivan. And I was independent enough to believe I could do everything on my own.”

“Where did you live?”

“With one of my mother's younger sisters for a while, but she had four kids of her own. She worked long hours and saw me as a free babysitter, cook, and chauffer. As much as I wanted to help, it didn't work.”

“What about your father? How often did you see him?”

“Not very often. He traveled a lot and didn't have time to be tied down with the two of us. He arranged financial help, and I got legal custody of Ivan. I was able to rent an apartment, and somehow we made it.”

“You've done a good job. Especially for someone who was given so much on her plate at such a young age.”

“Ivan's a good kid.” She laughed. “I know he'd cringe if he heard me calling him a kid, but sometimes I still see him as that young, vulnerable boy. He'd hate hearing me say that, because the truth is, he isn't that little boy anymore. He has more courage than most people I know.”

Including herself.

He'd been the one who'd encouraged her to stand up and do what was right, even if it cost her something. Without Ivan, Michael would be dead.

“What about Rebecca? What do you know about her?”

“Rebecca has an ear for a good story, but I'm worried she's gotten involved with the wrong kind of people to get what she wants.”

“Why would you say that?”

“We went to college together. She has a tendency to be a bit ruthless. She goes after what she wants, not caring much about how it affects the people around her. We were friends for a while, but it didn't last long. She stepped on a lot of people on her way up the ladder. I eventually decided that that kind of competitiveness wasn't for me. I just wanted to report a good story.”

He wrapped his hands around her fingers that were cold from the dropping temperatures. “Just promise me you'll be careful.”

For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine him pulling her into his arms and kissing her again. To let him promise her that everything was going to be okay.

Instead, she pressed her fingers against the door handle, trying to gather the courage to face the truth she'd been wrestling with for three days. Her father wasn't the man he claimed to be. And her life and Michael and Ivan's lives were still at risk.

“She's coming.” Olivia saw Rebecca walking toward their car from the east entrance of the cemetery.

Michael switched off the motor. The hot air began to dissipate in the chilly afternoon. “Are you sure we can trust her?”

“I'm not sure we can trust anyone, but if someone told her that you killed Sam Kendall, then she has to know who's behind this. She wanted me to come alone, so let me go first. I'll tug on my left ear when I'm ready for her to talk to you.”

Michael laughed. “You're sounding like a true spy.”

“Very funny.”

He caught her hand before she got out of the car. “I'll be right here. If you need anything.”

“I know.”

“And if anything seems off—anything at all—walk away.”

She nodded, wishing she could simply walk away. But she had to find a way out of this and ensure Ivan's safety. Running wasn't the answer.

A moment later, Olivia was walking along the sidewalk, surrounded by tall evergreens, letting the wind whip through her coat. Nerves twisted reality, making every shadow look like a monster. A man waited beside an older woman who laid a bouquet of flowers on a tombstone. So much sorrow. So much loss.

You will know the truth and the truth will set
you free.

She grabbed onto the verse, refusing to give in to the fear. For the past few days, she'd been afraid of knowing the truth, but she'd been wrong. She needed to know the truth. Needed to find that freedom.

Olivia walked on, watching as Rebecca passed the older couple, headed in her direction, dressed in one of her typical outfits. Expensive Armani jacket, a pencil skirt, and a pair of ankle-strap pumps. Olivia's budget would never allow for the thousand-dollar price tag Rebecca doled out for her outfits.

“Rebecca?” Olivia brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face. “I wasn't sure you were going to show up.”

“Your phone call intrigued me, and you know I've never been able to pass up a good story.”

“You chose an interesting place to meet.”

Rebecca laughed, but there was a hint of caution behind her smile. “I've always loved cemeteries. Just think of all the stories that were never told. Family secrets. Lies. Affairs . . . Perfect fodder for a reporter.”

Or
some seedy reality show host.