Firewall (8 page)

11:45 P.M. MONDAY

A light rap at the rear church door seized Taryn’s attention. The ending to
Bonnie and Clyde
filled her mind. She could do this. Help the FBI discover the truth and find Zoey. She’d written down every fact she could think of, including the problems at Gated Labs and her whirlwind romance with Shep.

The knock repeated, and she leaned her back against the door. “Who’s there?”

“Special Agent Grayson Hall.”

“Are you alone?”

“Yes. You have my word.”

Shep had given his word too, along with pledging his love for the rest of his life. But she had to trust someone, so she opened the door. The agent stepped in, and she locked them inside, as though that could keep out a SWAT team.

“Thank you, Agent Hall.” She stared at him in the shadows, hoping she’d see compassion. “I appreciate your giving me the opportunity to tell you what I’ve learned.” They walked together down the hall, where a faint light from the pastor’s office cast a golden path. She hoped it was a good omen.

“I have one hour to listen to what you have to say.” He swung a look and cringed.

“I’ve seen my reflection in the mirror,” she said. “I’m a little colorful, but I’ll heal. Of course, I could leave here in a body bag.”

“That’s not my intention.”

She believed him and told herself this wasn’t another bad decision. “I’m in the second office on the right. It has a sofa and chair.”

“You probably need to sit.”

She led him to where she’d taken residence. Would he jam a gun into her back and slap handcuffs on her wrists? She swallowed hard. “It’s very quiet. A little unsettling.”

“Doubt if the building is haunted.”

“Depends on what spirits are here.”

He chuckled. “Good call.”

“Are you wired with a team waiting outside?”

His brows narrowed. “No, and I’m taking a risk.”

“Why?”

“A hunch. Against FBI protocol. Never mind my reasoning.”

They sat on opposite ends of the sofa. This was a beginning to push the past several hours in the right direction.

“What do you have to tell me?” Hall said.

Her hands shook. “I’ve been so stupid. Now I’m angry at myself for thinking Shep cared.”

“What caused you to reach out to me?”

“Putting pieces together . . . and a feeling in my spirit.” That sounded lame. “Not a woman’s intuition but a spiritual urge.”

He nodded as if he understood. “Has Shep contacted you?”

“I saw him earlier tonight. He threatened me.”

“Where? What did he say?”

She envied how he looked so relaxed. “A bus stop several blocks back. I’m sorry. I was so upset, and I don’t remember which one. Finding Claire in her studio put me into a panic state. Anyway, I stopped at a couple of places to search for more information about Zoey and Shep. Everything pointed to your being right, but I didn’t want to believe it. Then at the bus stop, I saw a frightening side of him. He became belligerent when I wouldn’t go with
him. He said I had something he wanted. That I’d end up dead without him.”

“How did you get away?”

“I know self-defense, as you probably already figured out.”

He nodded. “Do you mind if I record our conversation?”

“Go right ahead.”

“I’ll take notes too.” Grayson flipped open his BlackBerry, pressed a button, and grabbed a small notepad from his jacket pocket.

“Why don’t you take notes on your phone?”

He smiled, the first she’d seen. “I’m a little old-fashioned.” He jotted down what she assumed was information about her. “Tell me what’s happened since the day you met Francis Shepherd, whose real name is Phillip Murford.” He lifted his gaze. “I’m sorry. Should have been a little more considerate with the news.”

The alias cut through her like a knife. “Who is he?”

“A former Navy SEAL who’s done time for armed robbery and murder.”

“What proof do you have?” Contempt for Shep laced every word.

Grayson showed a prison pic of a man on his BlackBerry. “Here’s a photo of Phillip Murford. What do you think?”

A few cosmetic changes, but the same man. She tilted her head. “The nose is wider.”

“Maybe a nose job.”

More events darted into her thoughts, and she pointed to Murford’s picture. “I remember him complaining of a headache. Said he’d fallen playing soccer with some friends and broken his nose. That would fit.” She shook her head. “I feel like such a fool. A whole lot of good my IQ did when it came to judging his character.”

“Emotions can deceive us.”

“Make us feel like idiots. Like I should be in a straitjacket.”

“Understand you’re doing the right thing. We’re circulating
his photo on digital billboards throughout the city. We’ve had tremendous success using them to find suspects.”

“I saw one with my pic
 
—and the $15,000 reward for information.” Exhaustion had almost overtaken her.

“How did you meet him?”

“At a party given by Gated Labs. I detest those things, but it’s a part of the working environment. He introduced himself to me, and I thought he was a new employee, but he said Haden Rollins invited him. That was the weekend after Memorial Day.”

“Did he and Rollins spend time together during the party?”

“No. Shep . . . Murford never left my side. We didn’t talk much in the beginning. I can be incredibly shy at social functions. Total social misfit.”

“You’re doing fine with me.”

“I’m motivated.”

“Good for you.”

Agent Hall could not begin to fathom what she felt
 
—betrayed and hunted. “I thought he really knew me. For the first time, a man admired me, seemed to respect my individuality. He said and did all the things that mattered. Was attentive but didn’t smother me.” Details rushed through her. “He must have had access to everything about me. Suggested my favorite restaurants. Where I shopped for clothes. Understood how much I loved my Lhasa apso. He even expressed concern about Bentley’s ears and how all his hair easily matted and needed special care. Why didn’t I question the coincidences?” She pressed her lips together. “Of course he knew all about me. Money and technology can buy anything.”

“Unfortunately you’re right. What other kinds of things are you referring to, the things that mattered?”

Please, don’t be playing my friend to trick me into something.
“He said he preferred a shy woman who had brains, a woman committed to her career. Admired my ability to not disclose highly secured information.”

“That’s not too unusual.”

“There’s more. He claimed I was beautiful. Asked if I’d always been the center of every man’s eye.” She offered Grayson a sad smile. “Don’t I wish. He guessed I’d been shy, had bad hair, and wore braces for years. Never dated. . . .” She drew in a deep breath. “I’m doing my best to be transparent. But this is difficult. Not my personality, and you’re a stranger.”

He glanced up from his note taking. “I have no idea what you’ve been through, but you’re doing fine. Where did he take you?”

Stupidity again slammed against her brain. “Secluded picnics. Catered dinners at his condo from my favorite restaurants. Long evening walks in the park. Rented movies.” She massaged the continuous pain in her temples.

“Anyone see the two of you together?”

She thought back through their times together. “Only the limo driver, who also delivered our food
 
—always the same man. Maybe someone paid attention at the office party. Haden. Claire and Zoey met him. But . . .”

“What?”

“I’ve learned he’s covered his tracks for everything we did, so I imagine he has there too.”

“Regarding the limo driver, later I’ll put you in touch with facial recognition to see what we can find about him.”

“Have you talked to Haden Rollins?” she said.

“Briefly.”

“What did he say?”

He studied her. “You’re exhausted. When’s the last time you ate?”

So that’s the game he played. Pretend to care so she’d confess to something she didn’t do. She clenched her fist.

“Did you eat at the hospital?”

She’d refused a hospital tray. “A couple of strawberries this morning before being picked up for the airport.” And the two cups of coffee.

“Let’s check out the kitchen. See what we can find.”

“I’d be stealing, and I don’t think the church would have anything I’d eat. I’m vegan.”

Grayson moaned. “We can look. Possibly some fruit if the church has a fridge. We can keep talking while you eat, unless vegans don’t talk with their mouths full.”

The hint of wit pleased her. “I can multitask.”

They walked back down the hall toward the children’s area and a small kitchen. “So you two dated and he proposed.”

“Yes, at his condo. We’d had another catered meal.”

“Do you remember the restaurant?”

“Cheesecake Factory.”

“We’ll see if the order can be traced and do the same for every restaurant.”

“They were all on my phone’s calendar. A lot of good that does now.”

“Do you use iCloud?” He shook his head. “I imagine you have all the latest and greatest.”

“I do, and I could log into my iCloud account later. He has my iPad and probably my iPhone. I think. The hospital and you claim not to have them.” She told him how her iPad ended up in his possession.

In the kitchen, he flipped on the light and opened the fridge. He tossed her an apple, then tore off a paper towel. “Take a seat and start on this. I’ll look for something more substantial.”

She frowned but eased into a chair. After digging into her purse, she slapped a ten on the table. No reason to add
thief
to her list of new traits. “This should cover it.”

He shook his head and grinned. “You are one unusual lady.”

For the first time she noted his tan jacket over jeans and a navy shirt. When she’d seen him in the hospital, his ice-blue eyes seemed to cut through her. But now they were kind, as though he believed in her innocence. Dark-blond hair gave him an all-American look. Oddly, she liked him.

“Eat it. You look horrible.” He turned to the cupboard and pulled out a jar of sunflower butter. “I suppose this is a substitute for peanut butter since so many kids are allergic to nuts.” Reaching into a drawer, he handed her a spoon. “Go for it.”

She took a bite of the apple, hoping her stomach cooperated. Its juicy sweetness spread through her mouth.

“How about some honey?”

“No thanks. It comes from bees.”

“The vegan thing?”

She nodded.

“My preference is a triple-decker cheeseburger with lots of onions and a chocolate shake.”

She laughed. How could she find humor in the middle of such a mess? “I’d starve.” She also believed a vegan diet lowered her risk of cancer. But what did that matter when people were trying to kill you?

“How did you get on the vegan kick?”

She’d promised herself to hold nothing back, no matter how insignificant. “I had horrible acne as a teen. Tried everything until the change in diet cleared up my face. Even helped tame my hair.”

Grayson sat across from her and pushed a button on his BlackBerry. He whipped out his notepad and pen. “What happened after the proposal?”

“He arranged everything. All I did was pick out my dress.” She closed her eyes and told him what she’d learned this evening.

“Phillip Murford
 
—”

A door slammed. Her gaze flew to Grayson.

He slipped a Glock from his jacket. “We have company,” he whispered. “Did you order out for Chinese?”

Cold dread stopped her from responding.

NEW YORK

12:55 A.M. EASTERN, TUESDAY

My phone rings, and I check caller ID. It’s him. I’m aware of how he takes care of those who don’t perform. The same way I do, except worse. I destroy careers or bankrupt dreams and financial portfolios. Laugh at their pathetic wailings. If someone has to disappear, I know who can make it happen and how much it will cost. My hands don’t get dirty. But not the caller at the other end of the line. He kills because he’s addicted to the high. Because he likes to smear blood on his hands and take the credit.

My phone rings until it rolls over to voice mail. Then it begins again. He won’t give up. I finish a Scotch and answer it.

“When I call, you answer.”

“Look at the time. I like to sleep.”

“Where is the product?”

“Murford is bringing it in the morning.”

“You want to know why that won’t happen?” He curses. “Word is he’s selling it to the highest bidder.”

I pour another Scotch. Murford has a greedy streak. I’d seen how he operated and hired him. Paid him well. “I have the situation under control.”

“You’d better hope so.”

I bristle. “You can’t pull this off without me, so calm down. I
 
—”

“You listen to me. Murford thought he had the new software, the one called Nehemiah. But Young disabled it and installed an older version. I want Nehemiah. Find your gopher. Get the job done. Understand? All I have to do is push Send, and the whole world will know you bombed IAH airport and why.”

I know more than he thinks. He’s powerful, but I discovered his weaknesses. “If anything happens to me, my attorney pulls a trigger. Looks like we have a stalemate.”

He laughs, a high-pitched sound that scrapes at my nerves. “Your attorney is on my payroll. The plan goes into action Friday morning. That means I want the software by Thursday.”

The phone clicks in my ear. I down the drink. My role is to be the go-between with Murford and the others. I still have a few tricks of my own. What he doesn’t know is that I’ll gain access to the old version of the software, blow up the pipeline, and make a killing in the market.

12:09 A.M. TUESDAY

Grayson killed the kitchen light and motioned for Taryn to stay behind him. Weapon ready, he listened. Dead silence. No footsteps. In his quest to gain her confidence, he’d allowed too long of a window before backup arrived. This was why he should have stuck to protocol, been wired, and had a surveillance team outside.

“Who’s there?” he said.

“All I want is Taryn,” a man said.

“Is that Murford?” Grayson whispered.

“Yes.” Taryn stood so close, he could feel her breath against his neck.

“Send her out, and you’ll live another day.”

“Fat chance,” Taryn sneered. “How’s your nose? What a shame since you just had it fixed. Was it for me?”

Taryn Young didn’t fit into any of the stereotypical computer geek molds. He admired her spunk . . . and he believed in her innocence.

“I want access to the Nehemiah Project,” Murford said. “Give me that, and I’ll forget about my nose.”

She laughed. “I disabled it.”

A shot whizzed past their heads. Grayson shoved her to the floor with him. “The FBI is on their way.”

“I know for a fact they’re twenty minutes out. And my men are inside.”

How had he gotten FBI information? They were trapped in the small kitchen. No window. No ceiling vent. He texted the SSA, but backup couldn’t get there fast enough. He touched Taryn’s shoulder for her to stay on the floor. Creeping across the dark room, he flipped on all four burners to the electric stove.

Grayson grabbed a roll of paper towels from the counter, tore off several strips, and laid them on three burners. On the fourth he set the rest of the roll. Then he opened a drawer, pulled out a few cloth towels, and tossed them into the mix.

Flames ignited.

“Be ready to run,” he whispered. “Wait until I say you can go.”

The fire alarm sounded, an ear-piercing siren guaranteed to bring the fire department.

Grayson burst into the hallway, shooting in the direction of the back door while he urged Taryn in the opposite direction, toward the front of the church. Bullets flew past them. “Move fast. I’m right behind you.”

He counted two shooters. How many more waited in the shadows? He and Taryn made it into the next hallway without being shot. Faint lights from the main entrance shone both ways. He didn’t see anything but furniture, and alcoves hid the unknown.

Grayson grasped Taryn’s hand and pushed her against a wall. A shot sailed by, confirming his suspicions while the fire alarm sounded in his ears. He pointed to the sanctuary. From the size of the church, they’d find at least four exits there. Adrenaline pumped into his system, and he hoped the same rushed through hers. He pushed open the door, and they slipped into the dark sanctuary. An exit sign at the far left corner caught his attention.

With his hand firmly around hers, they raced to the exit. A light illuminated an exit door about forty feet away, one with a push release. A break, and they needed it as long as no surprises
awaited them. Taryn slowed their pace, and he couldn’t blame her with what she’d been through.

They rushed through the door. A blanket of humidity and eighty-plus temps greeted them.

“Stop right there.” Phillip Murford aimed a gun at them. “You can’t get away from me.”

12:17 A.M. TUESDAY

Hatred seeped from Taryn’s pores. The blood staining his shirt had been her doing, and she wished she’d done more damage.

“Drop your weapon,” Murford said.

The man she’d thought was Francis Shepherd, the man she’d believed loved her, was a
murderer
. She despised him and herself for swallowing his lies. The golden arch to their future had been a pathway to hell. He had taken everything she was willing to give. But not her dignity.

“Come to daddy, Taryn.” The same low tones she’d heard the night before. Then the words had filled her with desire. Now she wanted to spit on him.

“I’m not the fool from yesterday.”

“Do you want me to remind you what happened at the St. Regis?”

“Not unless you want me to vomit.”

He snorted. “It doesn’t change a thing.”

“Did you kill Claire?”

“Would I commit murder?”

“You already have. Where’s Zoey?”

“How would I know?”

“Because she’s missing. And I know you have her.”

“Aren’t you the feisty one.” He tilted his head. “You have something I need.”

He’d made that statement on their wedding night. She felt
dirty, in a way soap and water would never wash clean. “Don’t think so, Murford. Nothing I have belongs to you.”

“Smart girl, you know my name. I bet you’ve learned I’ll do whatever it takes to get the job done.” He waved the gun.

“I want to talk about Zoey.”

He chuckled. “I suppose we can work out a deal.”

She pointed to Agent Hall. “What about him?”

“The FBI agent? You’re in no position to bargain.”

Sirens sounded in the distance, moving closer.

“Neither are you,” Hall said.

“Taryn, I’ll blow a hole right through him if
 
—”

“Okay.” Enough people had died. “I’ll go with you.”

“Hold on. One of those moves like I saw earlier and the agent’s dead.”

He’d kill Hall no matter what she did, but she could buy time. “I understand.” She moved closer to him.

Murford lifted his hand to his ear, obviously to communicate with those inside the church. Hall rushed him, swung fast, and knocked the gun from his hand. It fired into Hall’s left side just above his belt. Taryn dove for the weapon, its touch cold. Hall landed a punch into Murford’s stomach, sending him sprawling to the ground. Murford kicked Hall’s wounded side, causing him to stagger. Taryn screamed and kept her fingers secured around the gun, too frightened to use self-defense tactics.

Murford came after Hall, but the agent drove a hard right into his jaw, throwing him off-balance and giving Hall the advantage. He landed a punch to Murford’s ribs, sending him backward onto the concrete.

While Hall’s side dripped blood, Taryn handed him Murford’s gun. Hall jerked out the man’s earbud. “Hurry, before the others find us.” He gestured to a car across the street.

She was on the run again, but this time she wasn’t alone.