Extreme Exposure (30 page)

The manager gave her a bright smile that didn’t quite conceal the pity in his eyes as his gaze lingered on her bruised face. Then he turned and left her alone with Detective Irving.

The detective looked around at the suite and raised a bushy eyebrow. “Nicer digs than you’d find at a police safehouse, that’s for damned sure. Better food, too, I’ll bet. Now that you know where to find the bubble bath and caviar, let’s go over the rules.”

The rules were simple. No visitors. No outgoing calls unless she used the secured line. No revealing her location to anyone, not even her mother. No leaving her suite.

“Got it.”

“It’s bound to get a bit lonely up here, what with your son and mother out of town. You might be tempted—”

He was about to mention Reece, she knew. “I’ll be too busy to be lonely.”

But as she thanked Detective Irving and locked the door
behind him, Kara felt more alone than ever. She walked over to the tinted window, stared down at the busy street far below, then at the white-tipped mountains in the distance, feeling just as cold and bleak inside.

“You were just doing your job,” she said out loud to herself.

But did you have to be so cruel about it?

A part of her had wanted to tell Reece she knew he wasn’t the one who was shielding Northrup, but she’d squelched that voice. Nor had she been able to tell him how deeply it touched her to know all he’d done as a state senator to protect her. All she’d allowed him to see was her anger.

It still surprised her. When he hadn’t been at her bedside, he’d been shaking up the health department and harassing the state attorney’s office in hopes of uncovering what she could not ethically tell him.

The life of a woman I care very deeply about was in danger.

His explanation was so simple, so clear. And she’d thrown it back in his face.

You had no business getting involved.

She pulled the digital recorder out of her pocket, rewound, and hit play.

“The time I spent making love with you actually meant something to me. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing while some lunatic tried to murder you. Sorry if you don’t like that, but it’s who I am.”

“I don’t need you looking out for me.”

Shut up, McMillan!
She cringed, her own words scraping like barbed wire over skin.

“Goddamn it, Kara, quit pushing me away! Is sex the only thing you’re willing to accept from me? If that’s all you want, then I’m not interested.”

“I-I understand.”

“Do you?”

“It’s probably best if we go our separate ways.”

“Christ! That’s not what I said! How can you be willing to end our relationship without fighting for it first? How can you be so willing to let go when we both know that what we have together is special? Is that what you really want?”

“No.”

She turned off the recorder. It hurt to hear his anger, to hear her own fear. That’s what she’d been feeling—not fury, but bone-deep fear. Fear that he cared for her too much. Fear that she cared for him even more. Fear that she’d end up alone and in tears, feeling shattered.

Which pretty much described how she felt right now.

She’d told him the truth—she didn’t want to end their relationship.

How can you be so willing to let go when we both know that what we have together is special?

The hell of it was that right now she had no choice but to let go. She had an investigation to complete—an investigation that had nearly taken her life and Connor’s. Until this was over, she had no business thinking about anything else.

Suddenly exhausted, her head aching, Kara turned away from the window, found her way to the bedroom, crawled into the enormous bed, and fell into a weary asleep.

L
ATER THAT
afternoon, Reece strode from the Senate chambers, briefcase in hand, in a shitty mood despite the fact that his education bill had just passed. He offered a canned quote to the reporters who stood in the hallway and then headed toward his office. Miguel had agreed to meet him there in ten minutes.

His stomach rumbled, and he opted for a quick detour to the cafeteria downstairs. He’d spent the lunch recess at the hospital arguing with Kara and hadn’t yet eaten. Although the cafeteria had closed hours ago, there were vending machines that dispensed dubious fare for those brave or desperate enough to eat it. He’d just dropped five quarters in the machine for something labeled “turkey and swiss” when he smelled her perfume.

“I heard about your reporter.” Alexis leaned against the vending machine, the white tips of her French manicure a sharp contrast to her skin-hugging black silk dress. “I’m sorry she was hurt.”

He took the sandwich, moved over to the soda machine, dropped in three quarters, and punched Pepsi. “She wasn’t just hurt, Alexis. She was almost murdered.”

“You really care about her, don’t you?”

Yeah, he did. But he wasn’t going to discuss Kara with anyone right now, particularly not Alexis. He popped open his soda can and took a swallow. “Was there something you wanted?”

She smiled and took a step in his direction. “I think it’s kind of funny that a senator who won’t have sex with a lobbyist for ethical reasons sees no moral dilemma in fucking a journalist. Then again, good publicity is
so hard
to come by.”

The fist of suppressed rage Reece had been carrying in his belly all afternoon came perilously close to striking. He forced himself to take another swallow. “Only you would measure every intimate relationship in terms of profit. But that’s what whores do, isn’t it?”

Her perfect face flushed an ugly shade of red. “Fuck you!”

“No, I don’t think so.” He turned and walked away.

Miguel was waiting for him by the time he reached his office, white cowboy hat tucked politely under his arm, his bolo tie clipped with a silver bear claw studded with turquoise. “You looking to get food poisoning?”

Reece juggled briefcase, food, soda can, and keys and unlocked his office door. “Missed lunch.”

Miguel followed him inside, sat, and dropped his cowboy hat onto his lap. “You’ve missed a lot of things lately. How’s Ms. McMillan doing?”

“They discharged her today. The cops took her to a safehouse.” Reece put his briefcase down, sat at his desk, and opened the plastic wrap covering his sandwich.

“A safehouse? Like a women’s shelter?”

“No, a police safehouse. A secret location.” Reece stared at the concoction of bread, grayish meat, and orange cheese. “Until they know who is behind this, they’re keeping her under police protection.”

“Are you going to be able to visit her?”

“No. Only the cops know where she is.” After today she probably wouldn’t want to see him again anyway. He’d gotten angry, and he’d pushed her. But damn it, she’d pushed him, too. Did she really hold it against him that he cared for her enough to try to find out who was trying to kill her? Were her feelings for him so casual that his concern for her life felt intrusive?

“What about her son? I suppose he’s with her.”

“He’s gone out of town for a while.” Reece took a bite and chewed. “Ever heard of Northrup Mining, Inc.?”

“You mean the company Ms. McMillan named in her open-records request to all of us? No.”

“Yeah, me neither. She seems to think someone on the Legislative Audit Committee is covering up for them, forcing the state health department to back off.”

Miguel frowned. “That’s a serious accusation. Do you think she’s onto something?”

“Someone thinks she is. Someone’s so sure she’s near the truth that he’s willing to kill her to stop her.”

“I don’t know,
amigo
. Seems like a long shot to me. But if anyone on the committee is dirty, my money’s on Devlin.”

“Mine, too. I’ve requested a list of his campaign contributions from the secretary of state’s office.”

“You’re not getting involved with this yourself, are you?” Miguel looked genuinely alarmed, his brown eyes wide. “That won’t look so good—you checking up on him. He won’t like that.”

“We’re charged with holding government agencies accountable, Miguel. It’s my job to get involved in this.” Reece set his tasteless sandwich aside, lifted his briefcase onto his desk, and opened it. “I picked up a file on Northrup from the
health department today. The file’s been cleaned out. But I’m going to spend tonight playing a game of follow the money—find out who the company’s key shareholders are, that sort of thing.”

“Jesus, Reece!”

Reece looked up to see Miguel staring into his briefcase, a horrified expression on his face. He’d seen the Sphinx. “Relax. I’ve got a concealed-carry permit.”

“Just what are you planning on doing with that?”

Reece pulled out the file folder containing the health department documents and shut the briefcase. “Hopefully nothing. I’ve been carrying it since Kara was attacked just in case.”

But Miguel was shaking his head. “You’re getting way too caught up in this, my friend. You need to get out of town for a few days, clear your head. Do you want whoever’s after her to come after you?”

Reece bared his teeth. “You better believe I do! You didn’t see what he did to her. Christ, Miguel! He’s lucky the cops killed him first—two clean shots through the chest. I’d have shot him in the balls first.”

“I can’t believe this is you I’m hearing. What has she done to you?”

“She hasn’t done anything. Self-defense is perfectly legal. It’s not like I’m going to hunt the bastards down and kill them like a desperado. Besides, the worst possible strategic move these jerks could make would be to go after a senator.”

“Oh, I don’t know. If they’re
loco
enough to try to kill a journalist, what’s a state senator?”

“What I hope to be is a major pain in their ass. Now do you want to see these documents or not? I figure you and I can put our heads together and figure out who’s behind this.”

Miguel looked at his watch. “Not tonight. It’s Hilaria’s mother’s birthday. Don’t want to piss off my mother-in-law. But let me know if you find anything. Call my cell.”

Reece took another swig of his soda and turned toward his computer, his mind already plotting out an Internet search. “Enjoy yourself. Tell Hilaria hi for me.”

He heard his office door close, typed “Northrup Mining Inc.” and “shareholders” into the search engine, and then hit return.

B
Y THE
time room service brought her dinner of chicken soup—she didn’t have the stomach for much else—Kara had organized all the Northrup folders by date and type of document. They lay in neat rows across the elegant cherry dining table and the top of the closed baby grand piano. The folders from the senators on the Legislative Audit Committee sat in eight tidy piles.

She sipped her soup, caught the latest on CNN, and surveyed her handiwork. She would start with the senators’ files. If she could find out who was covering for Northrup, she’d have the keystone of her story. Of course, she still had interviews to do—Owens at the health department, Northrup officials, the governor, each of the eight senators, an expert on cement-kiln dust. It would be helpful if she could find an expert to comment on the content of the videos. For all she knew piles of paint-stripping, lung-shredding CKD were an industry standard. She would e-mail Tom and ask him to find someone.

She finished her dinner and put the tray outside her door in the empty hallway. The emptiness and utter quiet were unnerving. Quickly, she closed and locked her door, shutting out the silence.

Back in the living room, CNN droned on reassuringly. The gas fire danced over fake logs and cast an artificial cheery glow. Outside the window, the lights of Denver glinted like diamonds.

And now there was no more avoiding it. She could either start with Reece’s file, which was by far the thickest, or she could set him aside and go through them based on probability of guilt—the odds being determined solely by her completely biased impression of each individual. If she went through Reece’s first, she could prove that he had no connection to
Northrup and lift that weight from her mind. But if she truly believed him innocent, then why should she waste precious hours turning up nothing?

Oh, hell! Just make a decision, McMillan!

She grabbed Drew Devlin’s file, a notepad, and a sharp pencil and then sank into the armchair closest to the fire.

R
EECE STARED
at his computer screen, shock boiling into outrage. He’d had more difficulty tracking down Northrup’s shareholders than he’d imagined. Still, he’d kept up the search, wading through self-congratulatory press releases about worker safety, quarterly earnings, and plant upgrades, until he’d found something.

TexaMent set to buy Northrup in $2.7-billion deal.

It was a headline from an old cement-industry newsletter published several years ago and cached online. And there on the front page beneath the headline was Mike Stanfield, shaking hands with another man in a suit. Behind him stood Prentice, sporting Armani and more hair.

Reece read through the article and pushed back from his computer. So TexaMent owned Northrup. Goddamn! How could he have missed something so damned important, so basic?

He grabbed his TexaMent folder and searched through pages but found not a single mention of Northrup Mining, Inc. He’d done some research on TexaMent before agreeing to carry the tire-burning bill, checking their environmental record and OSHA file, and never once had he heard of Northrup. He’d known TexaMent had a plant in Adams County, but he’d had no idea the facility went by a different name.

He shook his head and laughed bitterly. How stupid he must have seemed to Owens at the health department when he’d called up asking about TexaMent’s record. Owens had been able to lie and tell the truth at the same time. No enforcement actions on record for TexaMent. None on record
for Northrup either, if he were to believe the file Owens had given him.

My God, they’d played him for a fool! They’d sought him out with a proposal that had legitimate environmental uses, won his support knowing that the other members of his party would sign on if he, with his reputation, sponsored it. Then they’d brought Devlin out of hiding, thereby assuring themselves unquestioned bipartisan support. Was Devlin working for them? And what did Kara have on Northrup that made her such a threat to them? Was Stanfield aware of the threats on her life? Was he behind the attack, or was someone else at the Northrup facility to blame?