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 some thing 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
