Burn every bridge, p.6
Burn Every Bridge, page 6
"Are you writing yourself a story here, Agent Reid?"
"Am I wrong?" she challenged.
"The rent was cheap, and I like the neighborhood."
Everything about him was frustrating—the way he deflected questions, the way he kept showing up in her investigation, the way her heart jumped every time she saw him. "Why all the secrecy, Mr. Malone?"
"There's no secrecy. You're trying to make me part of your case, but I'm not."
"You work for Dominic Ashford, who dates Samantha Barkley. You were in the café. You're in this whether or not you want to be. Did you see anyone in the café when you came inside, anyone you recognized, anyone that seemed out of place, who caught your eye?"
He stared back at her. "I saw you."
Goose bumps ran down her arms at his very direct reply. "You didn't even look at me," she countered.
"I did. And you were staring right back at me. I thought we had a moment."
"We did not have a moment," she said, even though she was staring at him now and couldn't seem to break his gaze. "Are you trying to be charming?"
His smile broadened. "Is it working?"
"No."
"Too bad. I did see you, Special Agent Kara Reid," he drawled, using her full name and title. "Although I had no idea you were FBI."
"And I had no idea you were CIA. Odd that we should both be there at that moment."
"You seemed determined to make it odd. As for the rest of your question, I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. I've actually been replaying the scene in my mind to make sure I wasn't forgetting something. Contrary to what you might think, I'm angry about what happened, not only to Samantha but to everyone else who was injured, both physically and emotionally."
"Then help me."
"How? You know more than I do. I have no idea what you want from me."
"I don't think you're telling me everything."
Before he could reply, Mrs. Kim returned with plates of dumplings, scallion pancakes, kung pao chicken, and fried rice. Far too much food for two people, just as Max had predicted. She set everything down, nodded with satisfaction, and left again.
The smell was incredible. Kara picked up her chopsticks, suddenly starving.
For several minutes, they just ate, and then Max said, "What's your story, Agent Reid? You seem to know more about me than I know about you."
"Barely," she retorted. "All I know is that you went to boarding school with Dominic Ashford, and you were or are a CIA agent."
"When did you join the FBI?"
"A year ago."
He raised an eyebrow. "You're a newbie then. And yet you seem in charge. That's impressive."
"I might have a short tenure with the FBI, but I was a police officer for eight years before changing careers."
"Here in New York?" he asked as he put another dumpling on his plate.
"Yes. I'm a native New Yorker, born in Queens."
"And do you come from a family of cops?"
"No. Firefighters. My dad, my uncle, and a couple of cousins."
"But you didn't want to follow in their footsteps?"
"I believe in service and helping people, but I do not like fire. That blast yesterday…it shook me."
He gave her a thoughtful look. "Yet, you ran back into a burning building. Sounds like you're as brave as the rest of your family."
"No, I'm not, but the firefighters weren't there yet, and I had to do something. I also didn't have time to think about it, which was a good thing."
"If you'd thought about it, you would have made the same decision."
"Maybe…maybe not." She saw the questioning gleam in his eyes and had a feeling she'd revealed too much to backtrack now, so she finished the story. "My father died on 9/11."
"Oh. I'm sorry," he said, his tone sounding genuine for the first time. "That's terrible."
"I was only six, but I can still remember that day. It started out normally, and then the world fell apart. My mom picked my little brother and I up from school and daycare. We spent all day watching the news, and family kept showing up at the house, crying, scared, hopeful. We didn't know about my father for a long time. He was in one of the towers. He rescued a lot of people before…" She cleared her throat, not sure why she'd told him such a personal thing. "Anyway, I couldn't become a firefighter after that. Not that it stopped others in the family. My uncle is a battalion chief, and his kids followed in his footsteps. I took a different path."
"That's understandable. Your father sounds like a hero."
"He really was. Not just that day, either. It was the way he lived his life." She took a sip of her tea. "We have gotten way off topic."
"Do you want more rice?" he asked as he picked up the bowl.
"No, you go ahead," she said, relieved with the change in subject. "I have to say, it was delicious. Do you eat here all the time?"
"Once or twice a week, but Mrs. Kim is often sending food upstairs. I've had just about everything on the menu. So, have you learned anything about the bombing, about the man who bumped into Samantha?"
"Actually, I spoke to a barista this afternoon. She told me she remembered the guy with the coffee topped with whipped cream because he asked for extra whip. She thought his name was Jonas. She said he'd been there a couple of times that week, but he'd never ordered coffee with so much whipped cream before."
"Maybe he was checking the place out," he murmured.
"That's my thought. We're going back in time to see if we can catch him on a camera and try to get a last name and an address. Unfortunately, the camera on the front of the building has been out for the past week. Someone smashed it, and they hadn't gotten it fixed yet."
"Well, that sounds like too big of a coincidence."
"It does." She wiped her mouth as she finished eating and took her phone out of her pocket. "In lieu of a photo, I worked with a sketch artist, and this is what he came up with." She pulled up the image and handed him the phone. "Do you recognize him?"
His lips tightened. "Yes. He was leaving the cafe when I arrived."
"Do you know who he is?"
Max looked at the sketch once more, his jaw tightening. "No, but I think I saw him outside Forge Fitness last week."
She sat up straighter. "Where's that?"
"Soho. I was leaving Dominic's apartment building, and I saw Samantha on the street. She was waiting for a cab to take her to the gym, and I offered her a ride. I'm fairly sure this guy was standing in front of the fitness center when I dropped her off."
"Did Samantha talk to him?"
"No. I only noticed him because while she was in my car, she'd gotten a phone call, and she was finishing up. I double-parked until she was ready to go, and I was just looking around."
"When she got out of your vehicle, did they interact?"
Max shook his head. "I don't believe so, but I'm not sure I watched her go all the way into the gym."
"I need to go to that gym and show the sketch around, see if anyone can identify him. If I can get a name, that could be a huge break," she said with excitement.
"I'll go with you. Let me get the check."
"It's my treat," she said, more than happy to pay for dinner, because she might finally have a significant lead. "But I have to say that if you're sending me on a wild goose chase, you will regret it."
"Do you think I'd misdirect a federal agent?"
"I don't think I have any idea what you'd do, Max Malone, if that's even your real name."
He simply smiled and waved to Mrs. Kim to bring the check.
Chapter Five
As Kara drove to the gym with Max in the passenger seat, she had a few more questions. "When you gave Samantha a ride and she was on her phone, could you tell who she was talking to, or what they were talking about?"
"I only heard her side of the conversation, but it sounded like work. She was asking about discovery, timelines, and whether someone was going to talk. She didn't mention names, and I didn't ask."
"How many other times were you alone with her?"
"Zero," he replied flatly. "I spoke to her a few times when she was with Dominic, but that was about nothing in particular. I really didn't know her, Kara."
"We found a file in her apartment with an itinerary for a groundbreaking event in Tajikistan. She or someone had scribbled words about safety and cost. Was she concerned about Dominic being in danger on that trip? Do you think that might be why she wanted to speak to you?"
"I suspected that might be why she wanted to speak to me, but I don't know."
"Why does Dominic want to go in person to such a dangerous place? Doesn't he have hundreds of employees who could do that for him?"
"I've asked that same question. It's difficult to protect a billionaire in that part of the world. But in case you don't know, billionaires can be stubborn about getting what they want."
"Oh, I'm aware," she said. "Sometimes to the point of reckless stupidity."
"Sometimes," he agreed. "Dominic feels it's important for his brand to be on the ground and in front of the cameras when it comes to big projects. Every time he does that, he gets attention and more investors."
"So, it's not completely selfless."
"Not even a little," he said with a laugh.
"Have you tried to talk him out of going?"
"That's not my job. He's aware of the risks. And it's up to me to minimize those risks. Anyway, none of this has anything to do with Samantha."
"I'm not entirely sure of that. Dominic is a wealthy public figure who probably has enemies. Hurting his girlfriend might give someone leverage over him. Are you concerned that he might also be in danger from this same bomber?"
"It has crossed my mind. I'm hoping you can find the bomber fast so we can put that worry away."
Max was being very agreeable, but she didn't completely trust his change in attitude. "Why you?" she asked abruptly, shooting him a quick look. "Why did Dominic hire you? What special skills do you bring to this job?"
"I have connections in that part of the world."
"From your CIA days?"
He shrugged. "I don't think that matters."
"You're a very frustrating man," she muttered.
"Getting back to Samantha, is there any update on her condition?"
"Still the same. They may try to wake her up later tomorrow, but it could also be Thursday. I would love to talk to her, to find out if she knows who might have tried to kill her."
"That would be a big help. I will say one thing about Samantha: she's not Dominic's usual type. He dates models, socialites, not women with serious, high-profile jobs. Not prosecutors who work seventy-hour weeks and probably don't have time for his charity galas."
"Maybe he was tired of shallow relationships."
"Maybe." Max didn't sound convinced.
"You don't think they're actually in love?"
"In love?" he echoed with a laugh. "They've only been seeing each other for a few months; I don't think either of them sees it as love."
"Some people fall fast."
"And that's usually a hard fall."
She wondered if his cynicism about love came from personal experience or just observation, but she wasn't going to ask him that. They weren't together to share personal stories; they were investigating a bombing, and she needed to focus on that.
"There's the gym," Max said, pointing ahead. "Let's see if anyone recognizes our mystery man."
Forge Fitness had a pristinely clean and nicely decorated lobby, with solid doors presumably leading to the actual fitness center.
A young guy sat at the front desk, maybe early twenties, scrolling through his phone. Behind him, through a glass door, Kara could see a dark-haired man doing paperwork in a small office.
Kara pulled out her badge when they reached the desk. "FBI. We need to ask you some questions."
The desk clerk's eyes widened as he put down his phone. "Is something wrong?"
"What's your name?"
"Spencer."
She pulled up the sketch on her phone and showed it to him. "Do you recognize this man, Spencer?"
Spencer's face turned pale. His eyes flicked nervously toward the office, then back to the phone. "I'm not sure. You should talk to Elias—he's the manager." He gestured toward the office, his hand shaking slightly. "I'll get him." He got up from the desk, knocked on the door, stepped inside, and then shut the door behind him.
Spencer emerged a moment later with a dark-haired Hispanic man in his late forties.
"I'm the manager. Elias Costa. How can I help you?"
"I'm Agent Reid," she said, introducing herself. "We're looking for this man. Do you know him? Have you seen him?"
Elias looked at the sketch on her phone. "This is just a drawing."
"But a good likeness of who we're looking for."
His gaze moved back to the photo. Then he lifted his head and gave a negative shake. "Sorry, I don't know who that is." Elias's gaze moved to Max. "I didn't catch your name."
"Max Malone. My client, Dominic Ashford, works with one of your trainers."
"Yes, he does. Is this man in the sketch tied to Mr. Ashford?" Elias looked even more concerned now.
"No, but he might be tied to an explosion that occurred yesterday," Max said.
Elias started, surprise moving through his gaze. "An explosion?"
"Are you sure you don't recognize him?" she interrupted, not wanting to give Elias any more information. She didn't trust him, and she couldn't help noticing that the desk clerk was listening avidly to their conversation.
"I'd like to help, but I can't. This image could be anyone. Is there anything else?"
"No," Max said before she had a chance to speak. "Thanks."
As Elias headed back into his office, Spencer picked up the phone to take a call. "Forge Fitness."
Max waved her toward the door, and she reluctantly followed. "You give up way too easily," she muttered as they reached the sidewalk.
"Elias wasn't going to give up that guy."
"You mean the one he didn't recognize?" she asked sarcastically.
"He definitely recognized him," Max said. "I think Spencer did, too, but the kid isn't going to tell us anything in front of his boss."
"You're right," she said with a sigh.
"The facility closes at nine," Max continued. "That's twelve minutes from now. Why don't we wait in the car and see if we can catch Spencer when he leaves work?"
"Fine." She got into the car, which was thankfully facing the gym, so unless Spencer left through a back door, they should be able to see him.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, then she said, "So what was it like working for the CIA?"
"It was a lot of things."
"That's vague. How did you get into the CIA?"
"It was so long ago, I barely remember."
"I'm sure you remember." She sent him a pointed look. "You just don't want to tell me. I'm not the enemy. We both want to find the person who blew up the café. Unless that's not really your goal?"
"What other goal would I have?"
"Protecting your client. Finding out what we know so that you can help him." She didn't want to believe that, but she couldn't ignore the possibility that Max had a hidden agenda.
"Dominic had nothing to do with that bomb," he said.
"I'm not saying he tried to kill his girlfriend. But that doesn't mean she wasn't targeted because of him, or that he doesn't know more than he's saying, or that you don't know more than you're saying."
"I am legitimately trying to help you, whether you believe it or not."
"And once again, you're not addressing what I just said."
"You're speculating based on nothing. I like to look at facts."
"So do I, and the fact is you're acting shady."
"I'm really not, Agent Reid. But you don't have to trust me to work with me. And I don't have to trust you."
"Why wouldn't you trust me?" she asked in surprise.
"I don't know you."
"I'm a federal agent."
"That doesn't automatically make you trustworthy," he said with a cynical smile. "At least, not from my experience."
She couldn't really argue that point because her own experience had also taught her that sometimes a badge could be used as a cover. "That's a fair point."
"It is?" he commented, surprise in his voice. "I thought I'd get an argument."
"No, you're right. Labels mean nothing. Neither do words. It's all about actions. That's when you see who people really are. Maybe I'm a little suspicious of you because my coworker told me he met you overseas several years ago, but you had a different name then."
"He did, too," Max said.
Now she was taken aback. "Really? He didn't mention that. What were the circumstances of your meeting?"
"That's classified."
"So, it had something to do with intelligence?"
"I can't answer that. I'll just say that we met at a time of intense secrecy. I think we were on the same side, but I'm not completely sure."
She didn't think Tyler was sure either, but the door to the gym had just opened, and she straightened in her seat. A man and a woman filed out. A moment later, Spencer came out the door, a backpack over his shoulders, a phone in his hand.
"There he is," Max said.
"Hopefully, Elias isn't right behind him."
"I don't see him. Let's go."
They reached the sidewalk just as Spencer got to them. Max grabbed his arm and pushed him into the nearby alley so that Elias wouldn't see them if he left the gym through the front door.
"What's going on?" Spencer demanded, pulling the AirPods out of his ears.
"We just want to talk," she said, keeping her voice calm. "You're not in trouble, Spencer."
"I don't know anything."
"Then this will be a brief conversation," Max said.
"If Elias knows I talked to you, he'll fire me," Spencer said. "I need this job."
"We're not going to tell Elias anything," she reassured him. "But we need to know about the man in that sketch. You recognized him. I know you did."
"I don't want any trouble."
"Neither do we," Max said. "Tell us what you know. The sooner you do, the sooner you can leave."
