Exposed (8 page)

“Yeah, he was proud there would be limited Internet and cell phone connection. Leave it to Luke to go off the grid just when we’d need him to do some
special
computer research for us.”

Before the youngest Edgars brother had gone into government law enforcement, he’d dabbled in some amateur black hat hacking. His oldest brother got wind of it and suggested—Frank gathered Dave had used a fist or two, as well as some persuasive words to convince the teenage rebel—that he find a more honest way to use his skills before finding himself behind bars.

“We’ll be able to leave a message on their phones and hopefully they’ll contact us in the next few days.”

“What if we don’t have a few days? I’d like to know who and what I’m dealing with, ASAP.”

“There’s always Doyle.” Jake said after a few moments.

“Your old partner on the local PD? Didn’t he retire years ago?”

“Yeah, workman’s comp for an injury sustained on the job. He’s been doing some private detecting, has a computer setup the NSA would envy, and has been taking lessons on looking behind the curtain from—”

“Luke.”

“And Abby. Turns out my new sister-in-law can give Luke a run for his money with the computer. The added advantage of using Doyle is he knows how to keep information to himself, so if you want, we could ask him to help out.”

“We? Just because my danger bells went off doesn’t mean anyone else needs to get involved—” he started to protest.

“Sure we do,” Jake interrupted, then tilted his head toward the living room where Sami and Sydney were sitting. “It’s what family does. And like it or not, big guy, you’re family.” He grabbed the note pad and pen Frank always kept by the landlines in his houses. “Let’s go see if we can get some of the photographer’s secrets, shall we?”

Frank picked up the bottle of bourbon, poured a helping into the mug of hot tea, then followed Jake into the living area. The alcohol would help Sydney sleep later, and relax enough to willingly answer questions. He didn’t like the idea of Jake interrogating her, but dammit, he needed information if he was going to find out who’d targeted her home for demolishing, and if they meant her more harm.

Slowly, Sydney’s body started to thaw as she sipped on the tea. The heat from the mug warming her hands as much as the liquid heated her insides. “This is much better than the whiskey. Thank you.”

“Too sweet?” Frank, seated in the big leather chair, his dark eyes focused like a laser beam on her, asked, and she wondered how much sugar he’d added.

“How much?”

“Two.”

“Enough.” She could talk in short spurts, too. Lowering her eyes, she focused on the tea in the mug. She knew they had questions. She did, too.

“I’m very sorry for what happened to your home tonight, Sydney,” Jake said. “Castello said your brother was staying there?”

She nodded and blinked back the tears. “Ian.”

“Was he older or younger?” Sami asked, her hand gently rubbing up and down Sydney’s back. The contact felt good, soothing.

“Older by four years. He was always just dropping in unannounced and at the most inconvenient times.”

“I know what that’s like. Brothers can be a bit self-centered, can’t they?”

She gave Sami a little smile. “Yes, and you had three. How did you survive it?”

“I gave as good as I got. It was either that or let them run roughshod over me.”

“You said he’d just drop in. Where does he live?” Jake asked.

She gave him a little shrug. “Nowhere in particular. At least nothing with a permanent address.”

“He’s homeless?”

Castello’s question pulled her attention to him. How did he do that? Speak two words with such intensity and meaning? And why did he make her feel so defensive?

“No. He’s not out on the streets. He knows he’s always got a place with me when he’s in town. He’s just never in one spot long enough to have a place or see after the upkeep on an apartment or house.”

“What does he do?”

“Ian’s a freelance photographer. He travels around the world covering stories. A war breaks out? He’s there. A natural disaster happens? Off runs Ian. He’s covered every Olympic event for years. Summit meetings, political scandals.” She gave another shrug. “It’s what he does.”

“When did he drop in this time?” Jake asked. He was writing on a notepad.

“Why are you taking notes? Is there something you’re not telling me?” Her heart started to pick up its pace. She looked at the serious faces of the three people she’d just met today, finally coming to rest on Castello.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The tense line of his lips and the solid stare back at her spoke volumes.

“You think Ian started the fire on purpose? How could you?” She jumped from her comfortable spot on the sofa, the afghan falling around her feet. “You don’t even know him!”

“That’s right, we don’t.” Suddenly, Frank stood before her, grasping her by the elbows, more for support than confinement. “We’re not accusing him of anything. Or you. Tomorrow, we’ll have to go talk to the police, and Jake is just helping you get more focused. Taking notes is part of his routine.”

Sami gave a laugh. “The man can’t even go to the grocery store for milk without writing it down.”

“Why do I have to talk to the police? Did you hear something about Ian? That fireman said they didn’t find anyone inside.” She stared into the dark depths of Frank’s eyes, hoping for reassurance.

“No, I don’t know any more about him than you do. Talking to the police is just routine. As the owner of the house, they would’ve talked to you tonight.”

“Except you swept me away.”

“Yes.” He gave her arms a firm squeeze. “Why don’t you sit back down and tell us about the last time you saw your brother?”

Satisfied with his answers, she let him help her onto the couch and took another big drink of the tea he placed back in her shaking hands. She closed her eyes, thinking back to the last time she’d seen her brother. “It was last Friday. I was packing to go on a shoot, running a bit late, and the taxi was on its way. I’d called for a pickup. It’s so much easier than trying to find a spot in long-term parking.”

“You were heading to Vermont, for the fashion shoot in the woods?”

Her eyes snapped open.

He gave her a silent nod.

He’d remembered.

“Yes. I had to go, so I told him he could stay while I was gone.” She paused, remembering her warning to him.
I’m serious, Ian. Don’t trash my home like you did last time.

“What?”

“Nothing, really. It’s just the last time I’d left him alone in my house, he left it a pigsty. My last words to him before I got in the taxi was to not trash it again.” She snorted out a derisive laugh. “Guess he didn’t just trash it this time.”

“I’m sure it was just an accident, and your brother is just fine,” Sami said, patting her on the hand laying in her lap.

“I hope so. I pray the police don’t have worse news for me when I get there tomorrow.” Despite the other woman’s kind words, the odd feeling something wasn’t quite right with Ian the last time he visited settled on her.

“Is there anything else you remember? Like where your brother had been or maybe where his next assignment might be?” Jake asked.

Suddenly tired, and tired of answering questions that only led to more questions, she let out a loud yawn.

“That’s enough questions tonight, you two,” Sami said, standing and taking the mug from Sydney’s hands. “She needs to rest. Is there someone you can stay with? Family?”

“She’s staying here,” Castello stated before she could reply.

“I can get a hotel,” she said, struggling to her feet again. “I may not have a home, but I have money.”

“Don’t argue. There’s a guest room here.” He said, coming to stand in front of her.

She had to squint and raise her head to get a good look at him. “If I refuse, what will you do? Hold my cameras hostage again?”

He didn’t answer, just quirked that one eyebrow upward again. He had a habit of doing that.

She started to take a step around him and felt woozy.

“How much whiskey?”

“Enough.” Once more he scooped her up in his arms.

“That’s cheating to get your way,” she muttered, resting her head on his shoulder, eyes closed.

“We’ll see ourselves out,” Jake said from behind them and she swore she heard laughter in his voice.

“Not funny.”

“Not in the least.” Castello’s chest rumbled beneath her ear.

She liked the sound. She liked the feel of his arms around her, and the warmth of his body against hers as he carried her up the stairs. Secure. Safe.

Something she hadn’t felt since she was a child.

“I’m not sleeping with you.”

“Didn’t think so.”

He adjusted his hold on her. She opened her eyes long enough to see him pull back the quilt and sheets. Then he set her on the bed. She toppled onto her side, barely registering that he knelt in front of her and took off her shoes before pulling the covers up to her chin.

* * * * *

“Whatever possessed him to just bring her to his house?” Sami asked as they walked to their SUV parked behind Castello’s in the driveway.

“He said he acted on instinct after the house exploded,” Jake said, squeezing his wife’s hand a little tighter. “He doesn’t know anything about her other than Luke and Abby vouched for her. That and his
Spidey-sense
is bugging him to keep her close.”

“The infamous Edgars male
Spidey-sense
?” Sami stopped, holding his hand tight and forcing him to stop and look at her. She had a grin on her face.

Jake shook his head at his wife. “Uh-uh, Samantha. Don’t go there.”

Her grin deepened. “Don’t go where? That our big gruff Marshall might be in bigger trouble than he ever imagined?”

Jake pulled her in close and gave her a quick, hot kiss. “Don’t read more into this than a highly-trained professional tuning into a situation that would normally have him protecting someone.”

“If you say so,” she said, her eyes twinkling in the moonlight.

He slipped his car keys into her hand. “You drive.”

“Me? You’re actually going to let me drive the official FBI car?”

He almost laughed at her reaction. “Yes. If there’s any civilian I’d trust with getting it home in one piece, it would be you.”

She grinned again. This one more cocky than teasing. “I did get us out of some tight situations when we first met.”

“Saved my ass more than once, as I recall.” He pulled her in tighter for another kiss.

“And a fine ass it is,” she said, gripping one cheek.

He laughed and pulled away.

She was still grinning in the driver’s seat when he climbed in the passenger side. “And why the special chance to drive this souped-up baby?”

“Because I have some phone calls to make.” He pulled out his phone as she backed out of the drive. Scrolling through the contacts, he landed on the one he should know by heart and pushed dial.

It took a few rings before a gruff voice answered. “This better be good, rookie, the Cavs are on the cusp of winning over the Bulls.”

Jake couldn’t help the grin, the old man had always had a love-hate relationship with the Cleveland basketball team. “Doyle, I’m going to need some help. Off the books.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Castello hauled in all of Sydney’s bags, locked the deadbolts on the kitchen door, and set the alarm. No one was going in or out of here tonight that he didn’t know about. Especially his guest.

Leaving the bags in the kitchen, he went upstairs to check on Sydney. Curled on her side, sound asleep.

Good. He didn’t want her coming downstairs until he was finished.

Back in the kitchen, he set her travel bag and camera case on the table, poured himself a little of the bourbon, and sat down. Staring at the bags, he slowly sipped from the crystal tumbler.

What he was about to do was a complete invasion of Sydney’s privacy. Jake was right, though. Despite Abigail and Luke’s history with her, they really didn’t know much about her. While Doyle did some new-age electronic investigation into her and her brother, he was about to go old school to see what he could learn.

Quietly, he unzipped the camera bag first. The inside was fairly organized. Two cameras—one digital, the other an old-fashioned manual thirty-five millimeter camera. Four kinds of lenses, extra batteries and seven sim cards for the digital camera, a charger and some small tubs of old-fashioned film.

Pulling out each item, he carefully set them on the table. A zippered plastic bag was in the inside side compartment. In it were tubs of film. He opened each tub of film to be sure that was all there was inside them then felt all along the inside of the case. Drug mules and smugglers were good at hiding items in the linings of bags, preventing the most cursory look by overtaxed customs officials from finding them. In the bottom of the bag he found loose tubs of film. Unlike the ones in the zip-lock bag, all but one of these were unused.

Nothing in this bag.

Carefully, he replaced each item exactly where he’d found them, resisting the urge to put the one used one from the loose tubs into the zip-lock bag. For some reason she’d left it separate. He didn’t know if she had a routine in packing her case, but he wasn’t taking any chances of her discovering he’d been inspecting it.

Next came the carry-on travel bag.

This one wasn’t quite as organized. There was the small, clear bag of three-ounce bottles of liquids required by the airport security. He opened and sniffed them. One smelled like lemons, the thicker one had some sort of tropical floral scent, and the third was thick and smelled like a hand lotion.

He pulled out the clothes. A neatly folded, old sweatshirt with a faded Ohio State logo. No tag on it, but it was big enough to fit two of Sydney inside. A man’s size perhaps? Interesting. Unfolding it, he found two pairs of panties, a bra and two pairs of socks—all in white—and a pair of grey cotton shorts.

Smart girl.
If her luggage got lost, she’d still have clean underwear and her sleep clothes with her.

Beneath the clothes he found her laptop. He pulled it out and set it aside to look at last.