garage was a motorcycle.
“Jag?”
He came up behind her.
“Jesus,” he muttered.
“Where is he?” If the man who’d come to Kate’s funeral on that motorcycle—and followed them in that Lexus—was here, where was he now and why had Calan come to see him?
Jag turned and headed down a hallway across from the living area, moving slowly and looking out the windows. She followed, instinctively knowing what they’d find. At the first door, he stopped. Odie peered inside. It was an office. The computer was on and the screensaver hadn’t kicked in yet. On the floor a body of an older man lay facedown, blood staining the carpet around his head. Fresh blood. Whoever he was, he had just been killed. And it appeared as if Calan Friese had just done it.
“Damn it,” Jag swore, going to the body. With his gloved hands, he rolled the man over.
Odie couldn’t stop her sharp inhale. It was the man in the second picture she’d seen.
Jag glanced back at her and she tried to cover her alarm, but he was so astute when it came to observing her that she didn’t doubt he’d picked up on something.
“You know him?”
She shook her head.
“Odie…”
“I swear I don’t know him.”
Anger tightened the line of his mouth. He glowered at her a moment longer and then began searching the body.
She turned to the computer, plucking a tissue from a box and putting it over the mouse. With a shaky hand, she maneuvered quickly, scanning files. Nothing unusual. On the desktop, she brought up the start menu and saw a link to a folder. Frasier Darby, it said. She went to the control panel and brought up the system window. Under computer name was Frasier Darby again.
“Anything?”
Realizing Jag stood behind her, she glanced back. “His name is Frasier Darby.”
“I know, I have his driver’s license.”
Tucking the tissue into her pocket, she left the room ahead of him. They searched the rest of the house. Odie let Jag do most the touching since he wore gloves. After about twenty minutes, nothing significant turned up.
“Come on. Let’s go,” Jag said, and she followed him through the front door, leaving it open a crack as it was when Friese had left. She jogged with Jag to their rental.
Inside, she put the laptop on her thighs and checked the monitor. “Friese went left.”
“He’s probably heading back to D.C.,” Jag said.
“Let’s not follow him. I want to be able to talk to him again.”
“Don’t you mean we? ”
She sent him an impatient look while she used her satellite phone to call 911 and anonymously report the murder.
Just as she finished, the road led into a steeper grade. When Jag pressed the brakes, they didn’t slow. He drove fast into a curve in the road.
“What’s wrong?”
“Brakes aren’t working.”
Had someone punctured the line?
“Someone doesn’t want to be followed,” he said, shifting into Low.
The car slowed, but Jag had to steer hard to correct the direction of the car as it sailed out of the turn. The car swerved.
Odie saw the tree and shut her eyes as they hit it. Airbags exploded. She was disoriented for a second or two.
“You okay?” Jag asked as everything went still. The car engine sputtered and died.
“Yes.”
Odie got out and stood under the branches of poplar trees. She looked over at Jag, who’d gotten out, too. She couldn’t hear anything other than the sounds of wilderness carrying on as if they’d never come. She tipped her head back. There was a chill in the air and the sun was setting. She turned toward the road. It was desolate and full of deepening shadows. That didn’t scare her. She knew self-defense and she was with one of TES’s finest.
“I’ll call Cullen. He can have someone arrange transportation, but it’ll probably take them a while.”
“I saw a turnoff to some cabins up the road,” she offered.
“Works for me. Going to get dark soon.” He bent into the rental and pulled out a duffel bag. She didn’t have to see its
Joy Nash, Jaide Fox, Michelle Pillow