Protecting Justice (The Justice Series Book 4) (26 page)

But then, being the ace she was, she faced Carl. “Of course,” she said, her voice light and agreeable and—yep—forcing Carl to look at her.

Atta, girl.

“I had a visit from President Nicols yesterday.”

Carl’s eyebrows hitched. “Really?”

“Imagine my surprise when he showed up at my hotel. Where I’m staying because someone keeps breaking into Heather’s house trying to steal her tablet. Not to mention causing an accident yesterday that could have killed me.”

“You said you were okay.”

“Well, I’m not. My friend almost died last night because he’s helping me with Heather’s…” She drew a breath, shook her head. “He’s helping me with Heather. A man almost died, Carl. I need to know what you know.”

A long silence ensued. Carl stared at Fallyn. Fallyn stared back. Classic negotiating tactic. The first to speak would lose. Both of them knew it.

Right now, Tony was banking on Fallyn. She was too damned stubborn and motivated to lose.

Carl held his hands out. “You think
I
had something to do with it?”

“I think Heather confided in you about a lot of things. I know she sought your advice on political maneuvering.”

“And,” Tony said, “something this big? A junior senator doesn’t take that on without knowing she can win.”

Ignoring Tony, Carl leaned toward Fallyn, his arms resting on the desk, but stretched halfway to Fallyn. “You can’t think I would hurt her.”

“I don’t want to think that.”

“We’re here,” Tony said, “because Fallyn is loyal.
I
wanted to take this text straight to the FBI. She’s got Metro Police and the feds all over her. And let’s not forget the media hype. The pressure is insane. Something’s gonna give and she’ll be in the middle of it. Possibly facing obstruction charges. But, she’s here. Now, are you gonna work with her or do we go to the feds?”

Chapter Sixteen

She was going to lose her shit. Just lose it. Any second now…

Fallyn gripped the arms of the chair she was sitting in across from Carl—Carl, her second father—and tried to breathe through the boa constrictor tightening its body around her lungs.

Betrayal burned like acid in her throat. First her mom, then her father’s withdrawal, now Carl.

She’d reconciled herself on the way over that Carl could be the killer, yet it still seemed completely ridiculous. He’d loved Heather. Loved her as much as his own daughter. How could he possibly kill her?

Yet, her fingers had searched for the gun in her purse. Reassurance, in case she was about to come face-to-face with the person who had stolen her sister’s life.

Fallyn had trained herself to read body language. Body language told her more than words. At that moment, Carl’s body language suggested he was hiding something, but not a murder.

“Tell me the truth, Carl.” Her own body language had to be screaming how upset she was, so she forced herself to ease up on her grip. “That’s all I’m asking. You told me to back off, that you would look into what Heather was doing, but you already knew, didn’t you?”

He sat back in his office chair and ran his hand over his face. Dark shadows clung to the bags under his eyes. In the past few days, he looked like he’d aged ten years. “This is dangerous stuff, Fallyn. You’re digging yourself into a deep hole if you keep pursuing it.”

“Are you threatening her?” Tony nearly came out of his seat.

Fallyn grabbed his wrist and gave it a squeeze.
Whoa, boy. Back down.

Carl held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. “Of course not! It’s not a threat, it’s a warning. You’ve seen what happened.” He focused his gaze on Fallyn. “I’ve already lost your sister. I don’t want to lose you, too.”

Her heart squeezed. She’d always loved Carl and looked up to him. She couldn’t remember a time in her life when he wasn’t there.

But emotional sentiment wasn’t going to solve anything.
Work the case.
“You almost lost me yesterday by keeping me in the dark. Tell me what you know about the CanAir disappearance and Heather’s investigation.”

His gaze dropped to the blotter on his desk. His aged fingers worked at the leather-bound edge. “Heather asked me to look into where Ryan Nicols was on the day the plane disappeared. Yes, she confided in me that she was looking into it at Senator Oren’s request, but asked me to keep quiet about it. She didn’t want to ruffle feathers or have anyone catch wind that there was an ongoing investigation.”

“Did she tell you she suspected the president’s son shot down the plane?”

His chin moved in what seemed like a nod. “After I confirmed Ryan was in the area, she told me her theory.”

“I say it’s more than a theory at this point,” Tony said. “Heather, and now Fallyn, have put two and two together.”

Carl became animated again, looking up and scooting forward in his seat to tap the top of the desk with a finger. “I’m going to tell you the same thing I told her. Yes, I’m sure the president didn’t cry over Nazari’s death, but without the plane or an eyewitness, there’s no way to prove the plane was shot down or that he had anything to do with that plane’s disappearance.”

“But we
do
have an eyewitness,” Fallon said.

Carl’s bushy brows crashed down. “Who?”

“Ryan Nicols.”

Again, Carl’s hands went up in the air, this time in frustration. “You can’t be serious. Whoever gave the order to shoot down that plane believed Heather had enough information to prove it, and you and I both know who that person probably is. He killed your sister over it, right? Isn’t that what you’re saying? Now, you’re in possession of that proof and you almost lost your life yesterday. Your friend is in serious condition. You go after the president’s son, Fallyn, and the president will come after you.”

“The alternative is that I sweep it under the carpet and pretend this never happened?” A dry, brittle laugh left her lips. “Sorry, no can do.”

“You can’t take on the most powerful man in the world.”

“I can if my sister is dead because of him.”

“The president is not untouchable,” Tony said.

“If you believe that, son, you’re either blind or stupid.”

Tony stilled. Just
wham
. Pissed? Oh, yeah.

Time to end this. “Not long ago, President Nicols had me bury a news story about Ryan and his bachelor status,” Fallyn said quietly. “Ryan is part of a Special Ops group and the president claimed his son’s identity could be compromised, his undercover career destroyed by a bunch of publicity. Ryan was an adult and joined the Air Force before his dad became president, so he escaped a lot of the media attention First Kids often receive. I complied, making sure Ryan’s covert life stayed exactly that—a secret, but now I wonder if it was more than that. The president ordered his son to shoot down that plane. He couldn’t risk Ryan being in the spotlight for anything. Abraham Nicols used me to cover his ass, and now, he’s had my sister killed.” She rose and grabbed her purse. “I’m going after his son.”

“He’s not in the country anymore,” Carl said. “I already checked. My source says Ryan’s on a top secret mission in the Middle East.”

“Then I’ll find someone else who can verify he carried out those orders. There has to be someone. His teammates, someone higher up on the chain of command at the DOD. There must be a log of the mission somewhere. One way or another, I will find the proof I need.”

She didn’t wait for Tony to follow. She threw the study door open and nearly barreled into Jordan who was coming down the hall.

The woman had her coat half off, her cheeks pink from cool air outside. “Fallyn! What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

Everything was
not
okay. She was still close to losing her shit.

Need to blow off steam
. Fallyn whisked by the woman on her way to the front door. “You’ll be happy to know, Jordan, I’m officially overwhelmed.”

Tony caught up to her as she flew down the front steps toward his car. He didn’t say anything, just opened the door for her and helped her up into the cab of the truck. They drove off and Tony headed for Fresh Start.

“Take me to the townhouse,” Fallyn said, pulling out her phone.

“The townhouse?”

“I need to start boxing up Heather’s stuff.”

“You think that’s a good idea after yesterday?”

“Good idea? No. We’re doing it anyway.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He pressed the accelerator and they picked up speed. “On one condition.”

For a second Fallyn’s stomach dropped at the acceleration, the memory of her ride in Grey’s Charger still fresh. By a battle of will, she shook off the memory. “Of course there’s a condition. There’s always a condition with you, Gerard.”

He shot her a devious smile before pinning his eyes back on the road. “You need to extricate some demons. I get it. Just let me make sure the place is clear before you go inside. That’s all I’m asking.”

Reasonable. He usually was. “Deal. But next time you tell me not get emotional when we’re interrogating someone, take a dose of your own medicine.”

“What?”

“Back there with Carl. I thought you were going to go across the desk and strangle the old guy when you thought he was threatening me.”

“I was.”

“Good. I don’t like being threatened. Nice to know someone else feels the same way.”

He reached over and grabbed her hand. “I’ve got your back, Fal.”

Fal
. Heather had always called her that. Jesus, she missed her sister.

No time for this
. If she gave into those thoughts, she’d lose it right here in the car. She reached for something lippy to say, to ease the tension building inside her. “You can have my front too. I insist. I’m an equal opportunity employer.”

Another grin. He let go of her hand and she tackled the first order of business on her Do Not Go Insane work list.

Call Metro PD.

When Detective Hollister came on the line, Fallyn didn’t bother with greetings. “Have the results come back on the pills I gave you?”

There was a slight pause on his end, but he caught on quick. “Ms. Pasche. Good to hear from you. I was just speaking with Special Agent Bronco, and—”

“The pills, detective. Did the lab results come back?”

She felt more than heard his sigh. “No, ma’am. Like everything else around here, the lab is overworked and has a backlog of requests. They’ll get to those medications as soon as they can.”

“Uh huh. Why don’t you have them ship the pills over to Agent Bronco at the FBI and ask him to get them analyzed? I’m sure he’ll be happy to cooperate.”

Plus, it would keep the good agent busy for a while. Anything to get him out of her hair.

Before Hollister could argue or start asking her questions she didn’t want to answer, she cut him off. “Let me know if anything new in your investigation breaks, K?”

She hung up.
Next
.

Her second call to Special Agent Bronco went to his voice mail.
Good
. She didn’t want to talk to him anyway. “Detective Hollister is sending you the pills from my sister’s medicine cabinet for your FBI lab to analyze. Also, you should know I’m compiling a file on an investigation Heather was looking into and how it may play into her death. I’m not ready to share details yet, but if something happens to me like it almost did yesterday, I’m instructing my team, and specifically Tony Gerard, to give you access to that file so you can open an official investigation. Believe me, Agent Bronco, it will make your career.”

Or get you killed
.

But seriously, how many people could the president kill off before someone exposed him? Bronco was probably safe.

Her dad was next. Their conversation was about the weather, a new dish he was offering at the restaurant for the next month in Heather’s honor.

His bunions.

Kill me now
.

On the heels of that thought came another.
Be careful what you wish for.

They talked a little longer and Fallyn realized her father was getting old. Like Carl, he’d aged just in the past few days. She needed to spend more time with him.

They shared a few more minutes of genial conversation. She hung up with her dad, took a deep breath, and dialed her office in New York.

It was Saturday afternoon, and she didn’t expect anyone to answer, but they’d all been working overtime with her absence, so she wasn’t too surprised when her office manager answered on the first ring. “Pasche & Associates.”

“Hey, Katrina. It’s me. Has the press deluge settled down at all?”

“Sixty-one calls today, but hey, who’s counting?”

Katrina had a wicked sense of humor and fit in perfectly with the rest of the crew. “Only sixty-one, huh?”

“You’re old news already. Fifteen minutes of fame and all that.”

The sensationalism of Heather’s death had given way to an earthquake in California, but Fallyn’s accident with Grey had attracted a lot of local attention. She’d just lost her twin sister and now she’d nearly lost another person close to her. Everyone wanted to know who the mysterious driver was who’d ended up in an undisclosed hospital. Was he her boyfriend? A hook-up? A new client?