searched through her inbox and the main folders, grumbling when he found all of his email messages moved to the trash folder. Were the days of professional courtesy gone? At least his assistant had handled the initial inquiry professionally while he was still waiting for Wallace to return his calls.
Continuing his search, he learned how she organized her files. He couldn’t find a way to access any progress they were making on the story about him and his team, but he could tell it had nothing to do with soldiers returning to civilian life.
Sitting on the blue suede bench at the end of her bed, he searched through her email folders until he found an email from the previous week with Soldiers Steal Gold in the subject line. Bingo. The email was written in a similar tone to the blackmail note Parker received. While the author of the email didn’t threaten anyone on the show, the names of those involved were the same, and listed in the same order as the note he had tucked into his wallet.
The allegations in the email were ghastly, making Parker’s skin crawl. His team had worked their mission and followed orders. The implications—with no evidence to back them up—that he and the others were corrupt, brutal thieves infuriated him. The last few lines and the unique closing really caught his attention. The writer, pleading to maintain anonymity, thanked Rebecca and Bill for their kindness and integrity during their visit to the Iraqi village where the theft allegedly occurred. He—Parker was certain the writer was a man—gave the producer’s ego another stroke by claiming Rebecca was the only person who could be trusted to handle this the right way.
The original email was bad enough, but the instructions she added when she forwarded the email to her reporter hit him like a sucker punch.
Bill, reach out to the family. Verify their safety and if/when the gold was stolen. If this is from Fadi, why would he insist on anonymity?
Parker swore. Fadi was a common name. In context with the other details laid out in the email, he couldn’t dismiss the possibility that she was referring to the same young man they’d employed as a translator when they were in that area.
Did Rebecca know who’d sent the tip raising questions and spreading rumors about his team? The way he read and reread the email, she sure suspected the tip on the theft had come from the oldest son of the victimized family. No wonder she’d avoided Parker and refused to give up her source. Hell. He wouldn’t get anywhere with her if she felt some misplaced obligation to cooperate with the person trying to discredit his team.
Well, he wasn’t leaving empty-handed. He had a better idea of where the tip originated from, which gave him a better starting point than he’d had an hour ago. After his service in Iraq, he had people he could reach out to as well. He set her tablet back to the home screen and wiped off his fingerprints before slipping it back into the bedside drawer.
After locking her front door, he let himself out of her apartment through the fire escape and headed home to work the new lead. He needed to find the show with their report from that trip to Iraq and start fitting the pieces together. When he went to her office in the morning, he would insist on hearing everything about her trip to Iraq and why she was so eager to believe the worst of him and his team.
He stalked down the street, needing to walk off the anger simmering in his system. It wouldn’t be smart to call for a car or catch a bus so close to her apartment. From his pocket, his phone rang. Seeing Theo’s name and face on the screen, he picked up immediately.
“How did things go?” he asked. There was a long pause on the other end of the line and he heard several voices in the background. “Theo?”
“Mr. Lawton?”
Parker froze. This wasn’t Theo. “Yes?”
“My apologies, sir. This is Detective Calvin Baird of the SFPD. I’m calling from Theo Manning’s phone, as we’ve just opened an investigation.”
A detective’s involvement could mean any number of new problems and most likely the work of a busy blackmailer. “What kind of investigation?” He put his back to the wall of the nearest building and studied the action around him on the street.
The detective ignored the question. “According to his phone log, you spoke with him recently.”
“That’s true.” Parker’s stomach clutched and his pulse kicked into fight mode. “Where is Theo? Can I talk to him?”
“I’m sorry to say it, but he’s dead,” Baird replied.
No. Parker couldn’t catch his breath. His hand gripped the phone hard and he slid down to land on his backside as the grief stunned him. He was on the phone with a homicide detective. What had happened to the five days the blackmailer had given him?
“Mr. Lawton?”
“Yeah.” He swallowed the emotion choking him. “I’m here. What do you know? Where is he?” Was. Theo was gone. Parker cleared his throat. “How did it happen?”
“Nine-one-one received a call about shots fired about forty minutes ago. By the time the responding officers and paramedics arrived, it was too late. I am sorry for your loss.”
“Was I the last to call him?”
“According to his phone log, you were one of two people trying to reach him.”
“Who was the other?”
“I’m not ready to comment on that yet,” Baird said. “I just arrived on the scene and we have very little to go on right now. Do you have time to come by the Bayview Police Station tomorrow morning? I should have more details for you by then.”
Bayview? That hardly narrowed it down. The large district covered the port where Theo worked along with the southeastern part of the city. “Yes, of course.” Parker knew the drill. If he wasn’t a suspect, he was a person of interest. Unfortunately, his alibi was best not confirmed, since it involved his harassing a woman followed by breaking and entering.
“Thank you—”
“Hang on a second,” Parker interrupted. “You mentioned gunshots. How did Theo die?”
“It’s too soon for the coroner’s report,” the detective hedged.
Parker stood up, pulled himself together and applied the tone he’d once used to lead others in and out of harrowing conflicts. “He was my CO and a friend. What appears to be the cause of death, in your opinion?”
“Unofficially, sir, I’d blame the two bullets in the back of his head.”
Parker’s vision hazed red. Assassination less than twenty-four hours after he’d reached out to Theo. If the blackmailer thought this would motivate him to cooperate, to pay a debt he didn’t owe, he was mistaken.
“Officers are canvassing the area for witnesses,” Baird continued. “I’m hoping for a better picture of what happened by morning.”
“No signs of a struggle?”
“Not at first glance, but we are in an alley.”
Parker cringed at the image. “Thank you, Detective. I’ll come by your office first thing in the morning.” Tonight he had more work to do. He took another minute after the call ended to say a prayer for Theo. Real grieving required time he didn’t have right now.
