The Christmas Clue (2 page)

Matt stared at the photo, and he stared at it some more. Even though he tried to tamp down all the wild scenarios that started to fly through his head, he wasn’t completely successful. The little girl was a dead ringer for him.

“You’re a fugitive from justice,” he pointed out, talking just as much to himself as his breaking-and-entering visitor. “So, why I should believe anything you say?”

“Because I’m telling the truth.”

No hesitation. None. It still didn’t help convince him otherwise, and she obviously realized that, from the Arctic look he gave her.

“The truth?” he questioned, upping that icy look a notch. He handed her back the photo, and she put it in her pocket. “I doubt it. You probably had the picture doctored. Or maybe that wasn’t even necessary. Maybe you just found some kid who looks like me and decided to use her to run this…whatever this is.”

She looked genuinely insulted. “Why would I make up something like that?”

“Easy. To convince me to help you get this so-called evidence from Dominic Cordova’s estate.”

That earned him a glare. And she was good at it, too. Those cat-green eyes could slice, dice and dismiss all in the same glance.

“Then, if you follow that through to its logical conclusion,” she countered, “I must be telling you the truth about there being evidence to exonerate me. Or else why would I need your help?” She paused, and let that hum between them for a few seconds. “Now, do me a favor and take that even one step further. If I’m telling the truth about that, then I’m also telling the truth about the little girl in that picture. She’s your daughter.”

Matt shook his head. “There’s nothing logical about that conclusion.”

And that meant he had to figure out the next step. He could just call the cops and have her arrested. One call. A simple solution. He could have her out of his house within twenty minutes. Maybe less. But his instincts told him to take a little detour first. Not that it would change the outcome. Not that it would prevent her arrest, but it’d make him sleep a little easier if he confirmed, or disproved, a few things.

First things first though. He reached out and grabbed her tranquilizer gun. He definitely surprised her, because judging from the look on her face, she had no idea it was coming. Only after he’d successfully disarmed her did Matt take his cell phone from his pocket.

“No!” she practically yelled. She grabbed him, clamping onto his arm and shoving him against the wall. “I can’t let you call the cops.”

He actually had to bite back a smile. The woman had courage.

Or
something.

Maybe desperation was the great equalizer because he towered over her and outweighed her by a good seventy pounds, and still she tried to hang on to him. While they were practically plastered against each other.

She noticed that, too.

Her gaze slipped from his eyes and landed on his right thigh and groin that pressed against her jeans. With her free hand, she reached down and gave his thigh a shove, which was a necessary adjustment. Unfortunately, her hand wasn’t too steady, or else she wanted to torture him. Because her touch was more of a grope, and she almost gave him an erection in the process. It was surefire reminder that it’d been a while since he’d been this close to a woman.

“Why don’t we take this conversation out of this narrow hallway so we’re not practically standing on top of each other?” she suggested. “And then we can discuss why you can’t call the police.”

“I’m not calling them,” he informed her.
“Yet.”

“Then who?”

“A friend. And I don’t plan on telling him you’re here. As far as I’m concerned, you’re my problem, not his. I just want some information.” And Matt didn’t want to try to get that info while trying to keep an eye on his visitor.

She waited a moment, staring at him. “What’s your definition of a friend?”

Matt decided to keep things vague. “Someone who can prove you’re lying.”

“Oh.” And she actually relaxed a little.

A reaction that had Matt tensing a lot. It couldn’t be possible. Cass Harrison couldn’t be telling the truth.

“This call would be to someone we both can trust?” she asked. “By that, I mean to someone not in the Justice Department.”

Again, he kept things vague. “The call will be safe.”

She released the grip she had on his arm, took a step back and motioned for him to continue. Matt took her up on that—after he continued to consider her response and then dismissed it as some bizarre mind game.

Yes, that had to be it.

He made the call. To his friend and co-worker, Agent Ronald McKenzie. Definitely someone in the Justice Department. He didn’t have the same reservations about safety that Cass did.

“Ronald,” Matt greeted. He winced when he heard Ronald give a groggy yawn. It was past 10:00 p.m. and obviously bedtime for some. “Sorry to wake you, but this is an emergency of sorts. I need you to run something on our old pal, Dominic Cordova. I’d like to know if he’s become a father in the past six months.”

That stopped Ronald in midyawn. “A father?”

It wasn’t just a simple question. Ronald wanted to know what had precipitated this call. But Matt didn’t want to get into that yet. So he trimmed down the details of an explanation and hoped it would suffice. “Yeah. I’ve heard rumors that he adopted a child.” He paused, because he had to. “I’ve also heard rumors that this baby might have a connection to Vanessa.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope. But like I said, it’s probably just a rumor.” Or an out-and-out lie.

“I’ll check,” Ronald promised. “And then I’ll call you right back.”

“Thanks.”

Matt pushed the end call button, slipped the phone into his pocket and looked at her. Her face wasn’t hard to miss since she was right there in front of him. They were practically standing on each other. Way too close. It was time to do something about that, so Matt stepped around her. Unfortunately, his arm swiped her right breast, causing her to suck in her breath. Matt ignored both the swipe and her reaction, and he headed into the kitchen, figuring she’d follow.

She did.

“Too bad you’re not a Navy SEAL,” she mumbled. She brushed her fingers over the tiny one-foot mini tree that had come predecorated with about a dozen tacky ornaments. It was his sole attempt to recognize the holidays. “I hear they’re fearless.”

Matt just glared at her. “That won’t work.”

“What won’t?” she asked innocently.

“Insulting me.”

She scratched her eyebrow. Auburn eyebrows that didn’t match her now-chocolate-brown hair. “I was actually trying to goad you.”

“That won’t work, either. So, talk to me about this so-called evidence that’ll exonerate you,” Matt insisted. If there was anything to it, and that was a huge
if,
he could pass on the info to the authorities once she was in custody.

“Surveillance disks,” she answered. “Dominic records everything that goes on in every room. And I mean
everything.
Since the murder happened in his office at the estate, I’m sure some information about it will be on one or more of the disks.”

Matt didn’t even try to suppress a loud groan. “And I’m guessing there are plenty of these disks?”

“Hundreds in a vault in the basement. I have the code to get into the vault. That’s not the problem. The problem is, according to someone who’s familiar with the estate, Dominic only keeps each disk one year. That means if I don’t act fast, he’ll erase any evidence I can use.”

He leaned slightly closer. “That isn’t helping your case, you know.”

“You mean because if Dominic records everything, then the sheer volume will make it impossible for us to find the evidence?”

“You,”
he corrected.

“
You
what?”

“You said it’ll be impossible for
us
to find the evidence. There is no
us
in this delusional plan, only
you.
”

“Oh, there’s an
us
all right.” She shook her head, and sent a lock of her chin-length hair sliding across her cheekbone. “The little blond-haired girl in that picture changes everything.”

“No. She doesn’t.”

And Matt was
almost
positive he believed that.

Cass Harrison apparently thought otherwise because she just stared at him.

“Okay,” he said trying a different angle. “Let’s suppose for argument’s sake that there is disk evidence. How do you intend to get it?”

“
We
will use equipment to jam Dominic’s disk surveillance feed. After that, we can gain access to the basement. Since covert measures are your specialty, that shouldn’t be a problem. Then, we’ll open the vault and search through the disks until we find what we’re looking for.”

Matt bypassed the last half of what she said and groaned again. “Equipment? What kind of equipment?”

“That’s another area where I’ll need your help. I don’t have access to the kind of equipment necessary to bypass Dominic’s state-of-the-art security system, and it’s not something I can buy.”

Matt really didn’t like the direction this conversation was taking. “But I do have access?”

She made an
of course
sound. “Don’t make me quote questionably obtained intel reports about the recent rescue of an American businesswoman who was being held hostage in South America. The only way the military and the Justice Department could have gotten her out was if they’d used the exact kind of jamming equipment that we need.”

He scowled at her. “And you think the Justice Department just leaves this equipment unsecured so anyone can use it?”

“No. But I think you can get it if it becomes necessary. And guess what? That little girl in the picture makes it necessary.”

Matt leaned in. “Yet another example of totally faulty reasoning. Or maybe it’s just a lie.”

She groaned. “I wish you’d stop accusing me of lying.”

“Sorry.” An apology Matt definitely didn’t mean, and his tone conveyed that. “It’s just that I get a little testy when someone breaks into my house, holds a tranquilizer gun on me and then demands that I steal classified equipment, break ranks and join in a half-assed, stupid plan that would almost certainly get both of us killed.”

“It’s not a half-assed, stupid plan.” But then she paused, shrugged. “Okay, maybe it does have some half-assed, stupid elements to it, but I’m doing the best I can with what I have. And what I have is
you,
Matt Christensen. You’re a highly trained federal agent. You can get us into that estate.”

In most cases, that would be true.

But not this time.

Judging from the intel reports he’d read, Dominic Cordova’s estate was a fortress. With reason. The man had enraged at least a dozen people, criminals, who killed as easily as they breathed. And that kind of situation made a person paranoid about security.

“Why didn’t you just ask the authorities to check out Dominic’s place, huh?” Matt asked. “If the evidence is there, they could find it—legally.”

“First of all, the authorities wouldn’t believe me. And if by some miracle they did, they wouldn’t risk offending their new ally by requesting the necessary documents to do a search of his estate. Plus, I’m about ninety-nine percent sure there’s a leak in communications. I think Dominic may have an insider in the Justice Department, and this person might be feeding him official information.”

Interesting. Matt hadn’t heard that particular accusation. Perhaps because she’d just made it up. He certainly wasn’t about to assume it was true. “Is that a guess, or do you actually have proof?”

“Proof. I did a test a few days ago and phoned in some bogus info to a person I thought I could trust in the Justice Department. Then, I timed it. In less than an hour, Dominic received a call on his secure line at his estate. The caller spoke through a computer voice scrambler so I have no idea who he or she is, but the person relayed the bogus info verbatim to Dominic.”

Matt considered all of that and decided it could mean nothing. It did, however, warrant some further investigating. “Do I dare ask how you gained access to Dominic’s secure phone line?”

“No.” She had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. “That’s not a good question to ask.”

If this entire conversation hadn’t been so frustrating, Matt would have smiled. But he doubted he’d be doing much smiling tonight. “How’d you ever hook up with Dominic Cordova in the first place?”

She angled her head and stared at him. “Is this small talk?”

“In a way.” Matt checked his watch. “I’m waiting on my friend to call back. If he doesn’t within the next ten minutes, I’m phoning the cops. I figure this is as good a way as any to pass the time.”

For a moment Matt didn’t think she’d answer. Strange, since she’d volunteered everything else. But then, he’d probably riled her with that threat to call the cops. Which wasn’t exactly a threat. He
would
call them.

As soon as Ronald verified that she was lying.

“Dominic,” she mumbled, saying his name as if it were a persistent infection. She thumped a tiny Santa figure dangling from the Christmas plant and sent the Santa swaying. “He sought me out, attending the same parties, the same social functions. He pursued me. At the time, I didn’t realize it was a setup, that he wasn’t interested in me nearly as much as my multimillion-dollar trust fund.”

“He’s that good an actor?”

Her sigh was laced with regret. “He’s that good, and I can usually spot a phony. My parents might have been wealthy, but they weren’t born that way. They were streetwise, and before they died they were always warning me about guys like Dominic.”

“But you missed the signs with him,” he pointed out.

“Obviously.”

She quickly looked away after her gaze landed on his bare chest, making him wish he’d taken the time to rebutton his shirt after he’d realized he had an intruder in the house. This was not good. Even with all the unreasonable demands, Cass Harrison was still a woman.