“Let me talk to Shepherd,” she said finally. “See what’s new there. In the meantime let’s head over to your apartment and get these communications delivered to your linguist.”
“I’ll give her a call to let her know to be standing by for them.” Adam pulled out his phone as he drove. She did the same, just as her cell rang.
There was a brief flare of panic, followed by a surge of irritation. Deliberately, she checked the screen. It was the deputy who had spoken to Sanchez, not Kale Bolton. Mentally damning her involuntary response, she answered, listened to the brief details the man provided before thanking him and ending the call. Then, since Adam was still occupied on the phone, she dialed Tom Shepherd. He answered on the second ring.
“Hey, did you get anything from Sanchez?”
“No.” She was able to answer that much honestly, which helped allay a bit of the guilt she felt for deceiving the man about the nature of their trip. “There was never any sort of written communication delivered. He dealt in person with Lambert each time.”
The agent’s voice was matter-of-fact. “Well, it was a long shot. I haven’t heard from Hedgelin regarding the warrant. Wondering now if there will be any decision tonight. Have you talked to him?”
Disappointment flickered although she’d expected as much from the silence. “No. I imagine I’ll hear when you do.”
“One way or another.” Shepherd sounded unusually gloomy. “I just hope politics don’t trump a promising lead.”
Silently, she seconded that thought. “I’ll submit the report tonight.” And when she did, hopefully she’d have some information regarding whether the message from Lambert’s computer had been written by him or by someone else.
“Okay, good. There’s something else, though.” At Shepherd’s lowered tone she shot a surreptitious look toward Adam. He was still engaged in his conversation with the linguist. “I’ve been doing some digging into the witness statements for the cardinal. Made a phone call to Denise Quincy, the cardinal’s secretary. According to her, Cardinal Cote had a meeting set up with Monsignor Jerry Benton the night before his death. I thought it was interesting that the pastor didn’t think to share that with us.”
Trepidation pooled in her stomach. “He mentioned that their relationship was rocky.”
“Yeah, but not why. According to Quincy, the good monsignor was the subject of numerous complaints from some of the nonprofit boards he sat on. The complaints were directed to the cardinal, and that’s probably the topic of the conversation they had on the night in question.”
Just having this conversation made her feel more than a little traitorous. With effort she kept her gaze from traveling to Adam again. “Hard to make the leap from dislike to murder, though, isn’t it? Under the circumstances.”
“But not impossible.” Shepherd sounded stubborn. “At any rate I’m looking harder at Benton. Maybe I’ll have more by tomorrow.”
Adam had hung up by then. And Jaid didn’t want to continue this conversation while he was listening. “All right. We’ll catch up then.”
“No warrant yet, I take it.” She didn’t recognize the route he was taking, which consisted of one residential street after another. She was familiar with how to get to Manassas but not the town itself.
“No word from Hedgelin. There has to be a decision one way or another by tomorrow morning, doesn’t there?”
“I’m guessing that three homicides of high-profile targets trumps the possibility of pissing off a longtime senator. But that doesn’t discount the delicacy needed.”
“And delicacy takes time?”
Although he didn’t smile, his face lightened. “It does, yes. Although I’ll admit that I don’t have infinite patience for it, I have, over the years, acquired some expertise in the area. It comes in handy when teaming with the various law enforcement entities that hire us.”
Jaid just bet it did. “Lots of egos to massage?”
“People skills are as important as investigative ones these days. A sad fact of life.” He was slowing at a large warehouse on a corner near the outskirts of town. But when he turned into the lot in front of it, she frowned. “Where are we . . . oh.” Comprehension dawned. She slanted him a look. “Your new penthouse?”
His expression was unenthusiastic. “Paulie says it’s trendy. The damn Realtor says it’s trendy. But it’s a warehouse. That’s what you see when you look at it, right?”
She wasn’t about to walk into that one. “I haven’t seen the inside yet. I’m withholding judgment until then.” And Jaid had to admit to a burst of interest at her opportunity to see his new place. She’d never been to the penthouse that had been destroyed months ago when Jennings had shot an incendiary device through the window. Adam had lived in a town house when they’d been together. But it was his suite at Mojy’s that she’d always associate with him.
With
them
.
It took effort to sidestep the memories that could so easily swamp her. She raised her brows when he tapped a button on the garage opener attached to his visor and a large metal door rose. As he sent the door descending behind them, she got out of the car and looked around the space. The square footage of the garage they were in would rival the first floor of her house for space. It was mostly empty, save several large boxes stacked along one wall. And a large set of shelves full of power tools and gadgets that she couldn’t imagine Adam ever having an interest in using.
To her surprise, he didn’t lead her toward the steel door in the far wall. Instead, she followed him to the set of shelves. Restrained an urge to applaud when he reached under one of them and the entire wall slid to the side revealing yet another door.
“Does James Bond know you’re living in his house?” she inquired as she followed him through the opening. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she saw the wall closing silently behind them.
“He can have it back,” he said darkly. The vestibule they were in held only an elevator. A private one, obviously, since he had to punch in a code before the doors would open. “It’s like living in a fortress. Paulie’s in love with the intrigue. I find it all a royal pain in the ass.”
She joined him in the elevator. Noted that it required yet another code to move. “If it keeps you safer, I’m with Paulie. It’s more than worth it.”
Adam looked unconvinced. And maybe she could feel a bit of sympathy for him when there was yet another code to punch in before unlocking the front door to his place. She had enough time to realize there were no other apartments that could be accessed from here. Then he pushed the front door open, and she stepped inside, more than a little curious to see the place he now called home.
The main floor they walked into was little more than a large man cave. Jaid noted the punishing-looking exercise equipment, wet bar, hot tub, and leather furniture grouped around a big-screen TV she couldn’t picture him watching. An open staircase was tucked into a far corner, and she wondered what had possessed Paulie to find a place for Adam that required walking a flight of stairs every time he wanted to get from one part of the home to the other.
Realizing his gaze was on her then, she searched for something to say. “It’s a loft. With the gentrification going on in downtown DC these days, more and more places like this are cropping up.” Not exactly like this one, of course. Certainly not with the level of security she’d seen downstairs. And while she approved wholeheartedly with the measures taken, there was nothing on the inside that told much about the man who lived here.
He’d used a gym when they’d been together. They’d worked out at the same one, in an effort to spend more time together. Without waiting for an invitation, she moved freely into the space, looking her fill. The equipment and hot tub would be more necessary than ever with the extent of his injuries.
Permanent nerve damage
. She could still hear the Louisiana surgeon’s voice.
But at least we saved the leg
.
Before the memories could catch and take hold, she moved to the bar. Ran her fingers over the dark marble top. She recognized the brand of Scotch stocking the shelves. It was perhaps the only thing on this floor that reflected what she could recall of the man’s tastes.
“My office is upstairs.” She followed him to the staircase. Was relieved to see him ascend it with a nimbleness she would have doubted a few moments earlier. Jaid hadn’t been around to see how Adam had adapted to the physical limitations he was left with. It was unsurprising that he’d handled them with the same deft equanimity that he’d dealt with the demands of his job.
But it hurt, more than it should have, to recognize that he’d dealt with them relatively alone.
The upstairs held a few more hints of the man’s personality than had the lower level. The galley kitchen tucked into one corner of the room looked as though it was rarely touched. A huge office took up most of the area. She imagined the other doorways led to bedrooms.
The office held an array of computers, shelves of books, with a C-shaped desk dominating the center of the space. He went to the desk now and set his briefcase on it. Snapped it open.
She found a seat on a navy armchair made of a rich, buttery leather. Taking out the note they’d gotten from Ferrell’s sister, she left her briefcase beside the chair and got up to hand it to Adam. “How much text does the linguist need for a match?”
“I don’t know exactly,” he admitted. “Lambert’s statement will certainly provide her with plenty of content. But the two notes, this one and the one from his computer . . . they’ll be more challenging. But she’s done it with less. She’s brilliant at her job.”
While he spoke, he brought up the private case-file site. Keyed in the code and scrolled until he found the part with Lambert’s statement. Printed that section. He repeated the action with the message the cyber unit had retrieved from his computer. The one he claimed had come from the DC killer. Then Adam scanned all of them on the large capablelooking printer next to his desk. Sat down and opened up his e-mail. Sent the whole thing.
“Sort of makes fax machines obsolete, doesn’t it?” Jaid nodded toward the printer. The most time-consuming part of the entire process had been looking up the appropriate part of the report to print out.
He swiveled his chair to face her. “And now we’ve come to your favorite part.”
She made a face. “Waiting. How long do you expect it to be?”
“Not more than two hours, I wouldn’t think. Probably less. But knowing Macy, she’ll verify and re-verify the results before contacting me again.”
Jaid checked the clock on her phone. “I suppose I should go back for my car.” She hesitated, torn. “I hate to take you away from your computer while you’re waiting for results, though.”
He shrugged. Rose. “Are you sure you want to go all the way back in to the city? It’s closer just to take you home from here. I can send a car for you tomorrow.”
“I don’t like being without a vehicle at night. If something happens with Royce, I need to be able to get him to a hospital.” She correctly interpreted the look he gave her. “Not that I expect anything to . . . it’s a mother thing.” The cell in her phone rang, and she started a little as she looked down at the screen. “Déjà vu,” she muttered.
Turning away from him, she said, “Hey, buddy. I was just talking about you. Sort of.”
The tumble of words greeting her ears was practically indecipherable. “Mom, Michael’s mom said it was okay, and Andrew’s mom said it was okay, and now you just need to say it’s okay, and then we can all . . .”
“Whoa. Slow down. I can’t understand . . .”
“Here, Stacy, tell my mom so I can go pack!”
“Pack?” Jaid waited impatiently for the babysitter to come on the phone. “Stacy, where does Royce think he’s going?”
The girl’s easygoing tones filled her ears. “Hey, Ms. M. I told him you had to okay it first. Michael’s mom called and asked if Royce could sleep over tonight. I guess another boy is staying, too. She’s going to take them to that new animated film they’ve been talking about. And apparently, there’s also pizza involved.”
“What?” Jaid frowned. “No. Not on a school night. What is Mrs. Kettleson even thinking to suggest . . .”
“Tomorrow’s teacher in-service, remember? You had me lined up to sit all day again?”
At the girl’s reminder Jaid’s eyelids slid shut in a mental head slap. How she’d managed to forget that already when she’d just hired Stacy for the day last week was beyond her. It was a measure of how the case had taken precedence in her mind.
“I hate to leave you hanging, though. You probably gave up plans.”
“No problem. Some of my friends are going to the mall tomorrow. This way I get to hang out with them awhile. And I’ll be sure and be back by the time Mrs. Kettleson says she’s going to drop Royce off. You won’t have to worry about a thing.”
Which was easier said than done. There was her son to talk to. And her usual list of warnings and reminders to deliver. Then she had to call Mrs. Kettleson. Pretend that she wasn’t the loser mother who had completely lost track of the school calendar. There was small talk to make, thanks to deliver. Laughing warnings shared about her son’s appetite. All the while she was mentally wondering when she would have the opportunity to reciprocate. When she was working a case, she didn’t even have weekends free.
It was a good twenty minutes later before she turned back to Adam, slipping the phone in her coat pocket.
He appeared engrossed in something on the computer screen, which rivaled the size of her television at home. “So.” He looked up. Turned to face her. “I take it plans for the evening have changed.”
“Racking up another nomination for mother of the year. I forgot that there’s no school tomorrow. Royce is headed for a friend’s house for an overnight, which trumps having his mom home early tonight.”
“I imagine in his eyes, allowing him to go with his friend did nudge you up to award territory.”
Jaid gave a half smile, wished she could believe it. “Seems like I spend half my time feeling guilty over something I did. Or didn’t do. The other half is spent promising myself I’ll make it up to him when I’m late. Or have to cancel plans because I have to work through the weekend.” She stopped, slightly embarrassed to reveal that much to Adam. Being a parent brought with it a slew of insecurities that once would have been foreign to her.