Dangerous Secrets (14 page)

“I still don’t get why it’s out in the open,” Shawn
muttered. His boss and good friend echoed Trent’s own thoughts. “That, right
there,” he waved a hand to the screen, “is enough evidence for a military
tribunal and court martial. Fuck, that’s enough to have the lot of them put
before a firing squad. Why the fuck would any of them let that out of their
hands? Why isn’t it locked up somewhere?”

“It probably was,” Vincent said as he joined them.
He had an iPad in hand and the screen image before them changed. The photo
moved to one side and a bunch of little ones, all of older men, filled up the
other side. “Meet the men as they are today.”

He stepped closer to the large screen as he did
something on his pad. “Meet Harold van der Witt.”

“Why does that name sound familiar?” Trent asked.

“It should, his family has been in the coffee
industry since the beginning of time, it seems. He was part of this unit.” Vincent
pointed to the younger version of Harold. “He apparently also had a conscience.
From what we’ve seen of the images, he never once took part in anything, was
just there to keep watch, but obviously it ate at him. He and his company have
given millions of dollars to help war torn and third world countries with
things like water, agriculture, and business development so they could thrive
on their own. He also just passed away two weeks ago and, according to the
tracking information on the package, it originated at a UPS store two blocks
from his house the morning after his death.”

“So he was the keeper of the evidence,” Shawn
commented with a frown. “And, as a deathbed confession of sorts, he had the
tape sent out.
By why to the restaurant?”

“Well, that’s where this shit goes and gets
freaky,” Vincent told them with a grimace.

He tapped on his iPad and then jerked his head to
the large screen. “Meet Carmela Basso, the woman who married Jordan Carmichael
and gave birth to one David Carmichael. Before he went off to war, Harold and
Carmela were dating steady and were engaged to be married. But, from what we
pieced together, van der Witt senior didn’t like the idea of his son, the heir,
marrying some middle class Italian girl, so he shipped his son off to the
military and she went on with her life. There are a number of letters, some
other correspondence and a few old diary entries that were scanned in and saved
as files on the drive. Apparently what no one knew, at the time anyway, was
that she was pregnant with Harold’s son.”

“David? My boss, David,” Mallory said, her voice
shocked.

“Yup.
Carmela knew Jordan
Carmichael from school and when they met up, we’re guessing she told him she
was pregnant and they got married. Jordan, again from what we can tell, likely
had a thing for her back in school before she broke it off to be with Harold.
It’s all supposition for the most part, but it seems to jive with what we can
find from the time,” Vincent told them. “Jordan gave David his name and they
never told him about Harold. But with the connections Harold had, it wouldn’t
have been all that hard to figure out that David hadn’t been born early, just
right on time for when he’d last been with Carmela. We thought maybe the
assistant had goofed on the address or that the person at the UPS store had put
it in wrong, but Hank just finished talking to the assistant and he assured us
that Harold’s instructions, left as part of his will, were very clear. The
assistant also mentioned he’d forgotten to include the note but figured that
the recipient would be able to figure out whatever was necessary from what had
been supplied.”

“A note?”
Shawn looked at Vincent.

“Yup.
Instructions
on who to send the drive to.
There’s also a full video confession on
here, taken with a pin camera we’re guessing, from the angles, and the slightly
muddy voice quality. But it has enough to it to implicate and convict everyone
in the picture.”

“Except Harold,” Mallory said softly.

“Well, he’s dead.” Vincent shrugged.

Trent was still frowning at the original image. “
Vincent,
is it me or does the guy in the back row, third in
look really familiar?”

“Ah, good of you to notice.
And no, not just you, buddy,” he said. A couple taps to his pad and the
image blew up a bit. Then the corresponding picture of an older man settled in
beside it. “Does that help you?” Vincent asked.

Trent shared a stunned look with Shawn. “Holy son
of a bitch,” he whispered. No wonder they wanted the drive back enough to kill
for. This was going to rock everyone’s world.

Chapter Nineteen

Two days later…

Leaning back against Trent, Mallory shivered. His
arms around her tightened and she felt the brush of his lips to her cheek. It
was a beautiful, sunny day and yet she couldn’t help but feel like they were on
the edge of something more.

Dozens of reporters lounged about, camera crews set
up their equipment, and various people ran around preparing for the speech about
to be given. The courthouse was the backdrop for what was about to come.
Mallory just hoped that it would be the end to the madness that had wrapped
around her life.

“You have to breathe, Mal,” Trent whispered softly to
her. “It’s going to be okay. The cops and Feds are here and this will be all
over soon.”

She gave a slow nod and smiled at him. Mallory was
thrilled that her nightmare was finally going to be concluded. The excitement
at knowing someone was going to pay for what had happened to her. That justice
would prevail.

Unfortunately, that led straight into other
thoughts. Ones of
equal,
or greater concern. It would
all be over, but did that mean Trent would be leaving, too? While he’d said he
wouldn’t leave unless she said so, Mallory still had this niggling fear he
would. She didn’t want it to be over with him. She wasn’t ready for it to end,
not now, maybe not ever. Damn it, she really wished they’d talked more about it
and then maybe she’d know if her fears were for naught. Tightening her hold on his
wrist, which she already held in a death grip already, they waited for the
doors of the courthouse to open.

A
couple reporters moved in front of their cameras and started their opening
bits. It surprised Mallory that there wasn’t any bleed-over, as close as they
were to each other. It seemed chaotic and loud, yet there was a certain order
to it, as other reporters took up their microphones. When the courthouse doors
were pushed open, everyone stilled and an eerie hush settled over the room.

At her back, Mallory felt Trent tense. She did, too,
and tightened her hold on him even more. This was it. It would finally be all
over.
Just a few more minutes.

Through the doors walked several men in suits and
sunglasses, the security teams. They settled into place in what looked to her
like a semi-circle, the podium in the middle at their backs. One man lifted his
wrist to his mouth and she watched his lips move.

Two minutes later another man, smiling big in his
tailored suit, walked out, waving to the crowd of reporters and onlookers. A
woman was a step behind him, giving a demure smile to the crowd before turning
a proud and happy look to the man.

The man went to the podium and raised his hands up
a bit to make quieting movements. He didn’t get to go much further, though, as
the Feds and local cops swooped in.

“Judge Emerson
Alfredson
,
you are under arrest. For collusion of attempted murder, aiding and abetting
people or peoples with the intent to commit bodily harm, or commit murder and
payment to individuals with the express purpose of funding the aforementioned
crimes.” The lead Fed said as some others wrenched the judge’s hands behind his
back and cuffed him.

The judge and the woman, his wife, Mallory guessed,
both look stunned. “What is the meaning of this?” the judge
demanded,
his face hardening.
“Why the hell are you arresting me, you
buffoon?
I’ll have your badge for this. You’ll be lucky to work at a
fast food restaurant after this.”

“You may try Mr.
Alfredson
,”
the Fed said. “Take him away,” he ordered his men.

Along with the judge and his wife went several of
the security team.
The remaining men from the photo and the
army squad.

The Fed stepped up to the microphones and smacked
one hard to get the reporters attention. “An official statement will be
released from the Bureau tomorrow morning. At this time, I can only inform you
that Emerson
Alfredson
has been remanded into our
custody on suspicion of war crimes. These crimes are being investigated
internationally as well as by the Bureau and other agencies. I’m sorry, but
that’s all I can say at this. Thank you.”

Relief ripped through her body and she sagged into
Trent. He never once let go of her as the reporters shouted questions to the
Fed who walked down the stairs. All were ignored as far as Mallory could tell.

“It’s over,” he said.

Nodding she turned in his arms and wrapped her own
around his waist. “Yeah, it’s over,” she whispered softly. Holding tight, she
tipped her head up and looked into his beautiful blue eyes. “Take me home,
Trent. Please?”

“Of course.”

With a quick kiss to her lips, he tugged her to his
side and led her away from the courthouse steps. Stopping by the car, he
released her long enough to shake a woman’s hand. “Thanks for the heads up
about this, Rhonda.”

The detective she’d met very briefly that morning
grinned and gave a shrug.
“Figured you two needed to see it
happen for yourselves.
Besides, it was quite a show. Gordon definitely
knows how to leave the reporters salivating for more.”

Realizing she must be talking about the Federal
agent that had spoken to the crowd, Mallory had to agree with that. The man
definitely knew how to give the reporters enough of something without giving
them all that much. Just a few words and they’d all been foaming at the mouth
for more.

“What happens now?” she asked the detective.

“He’ll be questioned here while the international
boys go through the evidence. We can hold him for forty-eight hours before
having to charge him, but the Feds can then take him off our hands and tie it
all up for a bit longer. I just wish they’d let me in to interrogate him. I’d
get some answers out of the bastard,” Rhonda said with an evil grin.

Trent laughed at that and shook his head. “Well,
thanks again, Rhonda. I need to get Mal home and help get her mind off all
this.”

“Yeah, you do that,” the woman said with a smirk.
“I’m sure it’s the same way that Shawn gets Tamara’s mind off of things.”

“Probably,” Trent agreed.

Leaving Rhonda making faces, Trent got her into his
truck and they were on their way. Leaning her head back against the seat,
Mallory closed her eyes and held onto Trent’s hand. She wasn’t ready to say
goodbye to him yet. Actually, she wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him ever.

While they hadn’t met under the greatest
circumstances, the last few days had been amazing. Yes, the whole death threat
hanging over her head had sucked. But the time with Trent, behind closed doors,
had been amazing and perfect.

She didn’t want to lose him. Not then, not ever.
He’d come to mean a lot to her. She would have to tell him and, maybe, they
could find a way to make their lives work together.

When the truck slowed down, she opened her eyes,
lifted her head and looked around. Frowning, she sat up and peered out the
window as he pulled into the driveway of a house. “Trent, where are we?”

He just smiled at her, put the truck in park,
turned off the engine, and slid out his door.

Undoing her own seatbelt, Mallory pushed the passenger
door open and slipped into his arms. “Trent?”

He just winked and took her hand to guide her up
the walkway.

Not sure what to make of his behavior, she let him
pull her along. At the door, he unlocked it and let her inside, pausing only
long enough to disarm the security system before guiding her deeper into the
house.

It was a beautiful home. Hardwood floors, wide open
spaces and an airy feel to it with all the windows. The kitchen, though,
stopped her dead. It was a chef’s dream come true. It was better than her
kitchen at her apartment by a few thousand dollars and nearly
triple
the space.

She felt him move around behind her before his arms
slid around her.

“What is going on, Trent?” she asked, suddenly very
nervous.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“Of course.
It’s gorgeous,” she told him.
“So spacious and well
done.
The stove alone has me about ready to weep in pleasure.”

“So, you might be willing to cook in here with me
from time to time.”