The Betrayal (3 page)

Cassie. His wife, perhaps?
She forced the thought from her mind, silently castigating herself. What the hell did she care if he was married? If the allegations proved to be founded, she’d have nothing but sympathy for his unsuspecting spouse.

“Agent Munro, have you ever told anyone else your username?”

“No.”

“What about your password?”

“No.”

She glanced back up at him. “Not even your wife?”

“I don’t have a wife.”

“Girlfriend?”

“No.”

“No, you haven’t told her or no, you don’t have one?”

Irritation flared in his eyes and Chloe held her breath. The question wasn’t work related. She prayed he wouldn’t take issue with it.

She breathed a tiny sigh of relief when he shook his head and answered her, the anger easing out of his voice.

“No, Senior Investigator Sabattini, I do not have a girlfriend.”

Chloe ignored the
zing
of satisfaction that arced through her and concentrated on the rest of his answer.

“And even if I did,” he continued, “I wouldn’t tell her my username or password. I’ve already told you: I’ve told
no one
.”

Satisfied, she looked at the list of questions in front of her. “Have you ever written your username and/or your password down, either at work or at your home?”

He was already shaking his head before she finished. “No.”

“You’re sure?”

His eyes bored into hers. “I’m
sure
.”

“Then, Agent Munro, how do you explain how your username and password were used to access files from four different investigations over the course of a week, none of which you were involved in, and all containing images of child pornography? These files were not only accessed by you, but they were saved onto the hard drive of your computer.”

Chloe watched him closely. Tension returned to his body. His fists clenched and unclenched. Anger heightened the color in his cheeks—or was it guilt?

He looked at her, his eyes like flint. “Anyone could have done that. I’m only there for one shift a day. There is at least one other shift and sometimes two, every day, where someone else has access to my computer. You know that.”

Chloe returned his stare. “Of course, I do. But that doesn’t explain how they got hold of your username and password. You’ve already told me no one else knew it.”

“So, they must have
stolen
it.” His large frame moved restlessly in the chair. He ran a hand through his hair and tugged at the thick strands.

Chloe refused to be moved by his frustration, no matter how genuine it appeared.

“Usernames and passwords are issued out of the Home Affairs Office on the day you’re entered into their system as an AFP employee. Are you seriously accusing a staff member in that office of stealing your details, sneaking into your squad room unnoticed, accessing files and saving them to a computer—I’m guessing one of about twenty or so in your squad room—that you just happen to use?” She shook her head. “Even I can’t stretch my imagination that far.”

Declan’s shoulders slumped on a heavy sigh. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk, his head in his hands.

Chloe’s pulse quickened. He was going to confess. Feeling equal amounts of satisfaction and disappointment, she braced herself with her pen poised.

“You don’t have to tell me how bad it looks, Senior Investigator Sabattini. All I know for sure is, it wasn’t me.” His words were muffled beneath his fingers.

“I’m sorry, Agent Munro, do you mind repeating that?”

He looked up and captured her gaze, his eyes imploring hers. “I said it wasn’t
me
.”

Compassion stirred inside her. She wanted to believe him. He looked so genuine, so honest, so…lost—like he didn’t know what to do next. She cleared her throat and tried to regain her professional demeanor.

“Agent Munro, I’ve read your file. You had a long and impressive career with the New South Wales Police Service before you relocated to Canberra. I’m curious: Why did you transfer to the AFP, and more particularly, to the CPU?”

Long moments passed. She didn’t think he was going to answer. When he did speak, his voice was pitched low.

“I transferred because of Cassie. My niece.”

His niece.

Heat suffused Chloe’s cheeks. She cursed under her breath. Damn her overactive imagination and damn her for caring that Carrie wasn’t what she’d assumed.

She strove to keep her voice neutral. “What about your niece?”

Declan looked away, as if gathering his thoughts. Finally, he turned back to face her.

“It happened a little over a year ago. My niece was kidnapped and assaulted by a pedophile in Sydney. I was a State copper at the time. I assisted the AFP taskforce and helped capture him.”

Chloe’s eyebrows rose in surprise. It was the last thing she’d expected him to say and while his tone had remained flat and unemotional throughout his recital, she could well imagine how traumatic it had been for everyone involved.

As if he could read her thoughts, he spoke again. “I know what you’re thinking. And the answer is, yes. It was one of the toughest cases I’d been involved in, probably more so because of my personal connection. I freely admit it did my head in for a good while afterwards. I was beyond furious at the sick fu—” He looked away. A flush stained his cheeks. “I mean, the sick men—and let’s face it, it’s usually men—who get off on little kids. I couldn’t even get past the
thought
of it and then to have the evilness of it touch someone so close to me—it messed me up a bit. I took stress leave and attended counseling. I was halfway through my fifth session when I realized what I had to do. I had to go after them. Every last one of them.”

Chloe stared at him, trying to gauge his sincerity. “There’s no mention of any of this in your file.”

Declan blew out his breath on a sigh. “I don’t know what it says in there.” He pointed to the file open on her desk. “But I told the powers that be when they interviewed me. I told them everything—about Cassie and what happened afterwards—but it didn’t matter to them. My record as a senior State detective spoke for itself. As did the reputation of my brothers.” He tossed her a wry grin. “I’m sure having two brothers with stellar careers in the AFP didn’t harm my chances.”

Chloe frowned in thought. She recalled reading about Clayton and Brandon Munro in Declan’s personnel file. Clayton was a hotshot profiler and had been with the AFP for years. Brandon was similarly well thought of and had spent an impressive amount of time working as an undercover operative. On top of his brothers’ achievements, Declan was the son of the first aboriginal District Court Judge to preside over a court in New South Wales. She could see how having relatives like them would improve his chances of gaining entry.

“So, that’s why you applied for the CPU? Because of what had happened to your niece?”

He nodded, his expression sobering. “Yep. I found out firsthand what it felt like to be brushed by evil. Thank Christ we caught him before he raped her. She was spared that agony, but I vowed to do all that I could to make sure assholes like that could never harm children again.”

His voice had roughened with emotion. When he looked back at her, his eyes were shadowed. A moment later, he shrugged and looked away.

“So, I transferred,” he added.

“You could have worked in similar State-based units.”

“Yep, I could have, but you guys go after the big fish, the huge pedophile rings that operate both here and overseas. I have big numbers in my sights. I want to bring down each and every one of them.”

The passion and determination in his hard gaze shivered down her spine. She believed every word he said. It was so contrary to the preliminary file of evidence in front of her that she shook her head in confusion. Was it all a front? Or was he telling the truth?

“What happens now?”

She blinked. His quiet question brought her out of her kaleidoscoping thoughts and forced her attention back to him.

“I’ll talk to the other witnesses and then a report will be prepared based upon my findings.”

A frown marred the smooth tanned skin of his forehead. “What do you mean, other witnesses?”

“Your boss, your colleagues—including the one who came forward with the initial complaint.”

Declan’s eyes blazed. “A
colleague
? You’re shitting me? Who is it? Who’s the asshole that started all this bullshit? They’re who you should be looking at.”

Chloe held his gaze, feeling genuinely contrite. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, Agent Munro. If charges are laid and it goes before a court, naturally you and your lawyer will be given access to all of the evidence against you. Until then, the identity of the primary witness will remain confidential.” She glanced at her watch and noted the time.

“It’s ten-thirty in the morning. Unless you have any further questions, this interview will now be suspended. Please remain within close proximity of your usual address so that you can be contacted, if necessary. If you have to leave Canberra for any reason, you will need to let me know. Agent Munro, do you understand?”

He shot her a blistering look, his lips white with tension, but gave her a tight nod. She gathered the papers on her desk and put them back into the file.

“I suggest you call a lawyer or at the very least, talk to someone in our legal department,” she added. “I don’t need to remind you these allegations are serious.”

“Are we done?”

She nodded brusquely. “For now. I’ll be in touch.”

CHAPTER 3

Declan stumbled toward the elevators that loomed a lifetime away down the hall, his head buzzing.
Unauthorized…witnesses…charges…lawyers…evidence.

Fuck!
How the hell had his life spiraled out of control so quickly? After his conversation with Gary, he’d spent the rest of Friday wandering aimlessly through Civic in a shocked daze. Over the weekend, he’d looked at possible scenarios from every angle he could think of and before the interview, he’d convinced himself that he’d blown the whole incident out of proportion and that it would be sorted out with an apology and a handshake within minutes of his meeting with the IA officer. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

When he’d first spied the hot-looking investigator through the Perspex window, he’d even thought he’d be able to charm her into dropping the whole thing. The sensible navy jacket and skirt did nothing to conceal her shapely legs or the generous cleavage he’d glimpsed through the opening of her shirt.

The frown as she’d stared down at the notes in her file had only emphasized her high cheekbones and when she’d caught her full bottom lip between those even, white teeth, despite the seriousness of his predicament, his body had stirred.

But it had quickly become obvious she meant business. Even still, he’d been confident the truth would eventually win out. But now she was talking about laying charges…

Christ
. Panic spiked at the edges of his consciousness and he brutally forced it back. Punching the ‘down’ button on the wall at the elevators, he drew in a deep breath. He had to remain calm, keep a clear head and think things through.

He had to call Clayton.

Pulling his phone out of his shirt pocket, he switched it off silent and dialed Clayton’s number. He prayed his brother would answer and he sighed with relief when he did.

“Clayton, thank Christ I caught you.” Tripping over his words, he gave Clayton a brief, jumbled explanation. Gratitude flooded through him when his brother replied without hesitation.

“I’ll be right there.”

* * *

Declan answered the front door of his apartment and returned his brother’s handshake.

“Thanks for getting here so quickly, Clay. I appreciate it.”

Clayton’s expression was somber. “Anytime, mate. I know you’d do the same for me. In fact, you have.”

Declan’s lips compressed, his thoughts full of the Clayton of six years ago, who’d mourned his wife’s suicide. Declan was pleased to note there were no signs of that devastation now. The passage of time and Clayton’s new wife, Ellie, had everything to do with that.

“How are Ellie and the kids?” he asked.

A soft smile tilted Clayton’s mouth. “Great. They’re great. Olivia’s getting bigger and bossier by the day. Mitchell turned four last month and thinks he rules the house and Damon… What can I say? You were over at our place a few weeks ago. You saw him. He’s twelve months old and into everything. This morning he pulled all the trash out of the bin and tossed it all over the kitchen. He’s driving us all nuts.” Clayton shook his head. “And Ellie keeps telling me she wants another.”

Declan chuckled and stood aside to let his brother enter. “You love every minute of it,” he said, a little wistfully.

“Yeah, you’re right. I do.”

Declan pushed aside thoughts of the wife and children he didn’t have, and started making coffee. His state-of-the-art machine had two steaming hot mugs of black brew ready in minutes. He handed a mug to Clayton.

“Thanks.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Declan said and took a sip of his coffee.

After taking a couple of quick gulps, Clayton set his mug aside. Leaning back against the black granite countertop, he folded his arms across his chest and looked Declan squarely in the eye.

“All right, big brother, hit me with it. Your garbled explanation over the phone made my head spin. I’m still not sure I heard you right. I want you to start at the beginning and tell me what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into?”

Declan’s shoulders slumped. All at once, the pressure of the past few days caught up with him. He needed someone to offload onto. Someone who wouldn’t judge. Someone who would understand.

Declan might have been the older by three years, but Clayton had been an AFP agent for more than a decade. Declan both valued and respected his opinion.

“I’m in the shit, Clay. Christ knows how I got here. That’s completely beyond me at the moment, but I need help and I need it fast.”

Concern creased the folds around Clayton’s eyes. “What the hell’s going on, Dec?”

Declan turned and paced the length of the open-plan kitchen and living room. The stylishly appointed apartment boasted impressive views across Lake Burley Griffin, but he hardly registered the sparkling brilliance of the early spring sunshine as it bounced off the clear, wind-rippled water.