Freefall (21 page)

Pleasantly surprised, he cut off a larger bite, considering. His father didn't make Italian food, and his mother didn't make food period. As he prepared to enjoy the meal before him, he spoke to his mother. “This is really good, Mom. Who made it?”

Amy's eyebrows rose at the subtle insult.

Noticing her expression, Brent explained, “Mom doesn't cook.”

“He's right.” She nodded and motioned to her husband. “Tom does most of the cooking. I'm much better at dialing for take-out, but today our neighbor down the street cooked for us. She heard Brent was bringing a friend to dinner and decided it had been too long since we've had her chicken parmesan.”

“Pass along my compliments.” Amy smiled. “It's delicious.”

“Do you cook, Amy?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. I'm afraid my homemaking skills are definitely lacking.”

“But you can sew,” Brent pointed out.

“Only out of absolute necessity.”

Conversation was easy, and Brent found himself oddly unsettled at how comfortably Amy chatted with his parents on a wide variety of subjects. After dinner, she helped clean up the kitchen before she let Brent take her home.

When Brent pulled up into the Whitmores' driveway, he reached out and toyed with her hair. “Thanks for making time for me this weekend.”

“I can't believe the weekend is already over.” Amy shifted to face him. “I assume you're back at work tomorrow?”

Brent nodded. “Hopefully I'll be able to track down that leak before anything else comes up.”

“Let me know if there's anything I can do to help on this end. After what we dealt with when CJ was in the Witness Protection Program, I can guarantee that no one in my family said anything.”

“That's good to know.” Brent nodded, then glanced over at her front door, where a light was burning brightly. “If I didn't know better, I'd think your dad was waiting by the door for you.”

“I do know better, and I'm sure he is.” Amy laughed. “I'm sorry he's been so difficult. I think he's gotten worse since I moved out of the house. Now that I'm staying here, at least for now, he seems to think he needs to protect me.” She glanced back at the Secret Service agents getting out of their car and moving to stand by the front door. “I'm starting to think that protecting me has risen to a new level.”

“In that case . . .” Brent edged closer. “I'd better not wait to kiss you good night.”

Amy met him halfway, leaning into the kiss that held warmth and promise. Brent shifted, changed the angle of the kiss, and was suddenly thankful that he was sitting down. He could run five miles and barely break a sweat, but suddenly, he wasn't sure his legs would be able to function. Forever hovered on the edge of his mind, evoking a fear greater than he would have felt had he been facing a dozen armed men.

When he stepped out of the car a few minutes later, he was grateful his knees didn't give way beneath him. Taking Amy's hand, he led her to the door. He managed a smile when Jim opened the door to welcome his daughter home. Brent greeted the senator, acknowledging the not-so-subtle look in his eye, the look that clearly said “Stay away.” As he started home, he wondered how long the senator would let him date his daughter before he waged a full-scale war.

Brent stared at the computer screen, convinced that he was going to start seeing phone numbers in his sleep. For three days he had been tracing phone calls for everyone who had access to the information that he and Amy had been left behind. He had started with the easy part first and cleared his team so that they could help in the research.

Tristan and Seth had interviewed all of the hostages who had survived the weekend. They found that the British woman had been the confirmation for the reporter who originally released the information. According to her, she had been instructed before being released from the hospital not to discuss the fact that Amy and Brent had not returned with them. When the reporter had indicated that Amy and Brent had already been rescued, she had assumed that the gag order no longer applied. That was when she had mentioned how worried she had been that they hadn't survived the fall.

Now he was concentrating on every call to the reporter during the day. So far only three numbers were unidentified. His phone rang and he snatched it up, hoping that Kel or Quinn was having more luck than he was. “Lieutenant Miller.”

“Lieutenant, this is Doug Valdez from the FBI. I had a message to call you.”

Brent flipped through his notes, refreshing his memory that Doug was the government liaison with the hostages' families. “Yes, Agent Valdez. I am investigating the leak to the press about Amy Whitmore's rescue. I was hoping you could help shed some light on who had access to that information in your agency.”

“Just me, and I didn't speak to anyone about it except for the senator,” Doug informed him. “The only reason I was asked to act as liaison was because of my prior relationship with the Whitmore family. I was the agent-in-charge for CJ Whitmore when she was in the Witness Protection Program.”

“That makes more sense,” Brent said, more to himself that to Doug. “I was wondering why someone in the FBI was involved in a military operation.” Brent hesitated a moment and then continued. “Was the senator always on his home phone when you spoke to him?”

“For the first several calls, yes. The last time I talked to him he was at his office. That was when he told me he and Charlie were going to Cairo.”

“Could someone in his office have overheard the conversation?”

“I doubt it. The senator is extremely conscientious when it comes to security,” Doug told him. “Nothing irritates him more than the press getting hold of privileged information. Unfortunately, this isn't a new problem.”

“Was he on an open line the last time you spoke to him?”

A long pause. “I tried calling his private line first, but it was busy, so I called the office number.”

“Who answered the phone when you called?”

“It was a man,” Doug told him. “And I don't think it was Jared.”

“Jared?”

“Jared Elliott,” Doug offered. “I can't imagine he would have leaked any information out, especially after all Amy has done for him.”

Brent hoped his voice sounded professional when he asked, “Exactly what is his relationship with Miss Whitmore?”

“They were engaged,” Doug replied.

“I see. Well, thank you for the information,” Brent managed to say before ending the call. He swallowed hard, a ball of lead sinking in his stomach. He closed his eyes, focusing on the fact that he had said “
were
engaged,” past tense.

Pushing back from his desk, he walked down the hall and stepped into Kel's office. He was on the phone, but he waved him in. When he ended the call, he turned to Brent. “Did you find anything?”

“Maybe.” Brent leaned forward and put both hands on the chair across from Kel. “Has anyone done bios on the senator's staff?”

Kel shook his head. “I doubt it. Everyone on his staff has at least a secret security clearance because the senator is on the Senate Intelligence Committee. Why, what have you got?”

“As far as we can tell, the only hostage who was available to the press was the Brit. She admits to talking to the press, but she insists that the reporter approached her and already had a good deal of information.” Brent straightened. “The aircraft carrier standing by was under a communications blackout, official use only, so we know it wasn't anyone from there. The admiral didn't inform anyone on his staff of the situation, and our team is clean. That leaves the senator's staff.”

“But the senator didn't tell his staff that his daughter wasn't with the other hostages.”

“At least not intentionally,” Brent corrected. “Agent Valdez from the FBI said that the one time he talked to the senator in his office was right before he left for Cairo. It's possible that someone was listening in on the conversation.”

“Then I guess we'd better start on those bios,” Kel said with a nod.

Brent nodded. “Agent Valdez said a man answered the phone when he called, but that doesn't necessarily mean that he was the leak.”

“See if you can match up any of the staff members' phone numbers to one of those to the reporter, and I'll have Tristan pull the background checks.”

“You might want to have Seth take a peek at bank records too,” Brent suggested. “An exclusive like that was probably worth something.”

Kel glanced at his watch. “I'm meeting my wife for lunch at noon. Let's meet at eleven and see what everyone's got.”

Brent nodded in agreement and headed back to his office. He looked up the home and cell phone numbers for each member of the senator's staff, disappointed when none matched the three unidentified numbers to the reporter. He proceeded to check the phone numbers for the senator's office, again coming up empty.

Not sure how else to narrow down the suspects, Brent looked up Senator Whitmore's private number, took a deep breath, and dialed the phone. The senator answered the phone with a simple “hello,” throwing Brent off for a minute. He had expected a more formal greeting.

“Senator Whitmore?” Brent started. “This is Lieutenant Miller.”

“How did you get this number?”

“I utilized my resources,” Brent responded. “I'm sorry to use your private line, but I need some information and I thought it best not to use an open line.”

The senator's voice softened fractionally. “What kind of information?”

“The day you left for Cairo, can you tell me if everyone on your staff was in that day?”

“As far as I know, but if you'll hold on I can check.” Papers rustled in the background for a moment, and then Jim's voice came over the line once more. “Melissa, my assistant, was out that day, and Jared, my press secretary, was out of the office most of the day sending out a press release about my trip. Our fax machine was broken, so he was working in an office down the hall. Why do you ask?”

“I'm just covering all the bases,” Brent replied, making notes by the two staff members' names he'd mentioned. “Thank you for your help, Senator.”

Brent ended the call before the senator could turn the questioning around on him, and then he studied the list of the senator's staff members. He glanced at his watch, gathered his files, and headed to Kel's office.

“Haven't you figured it out yet?” Quinn asked him when he walked in. “I am so sick of this investigation.”

“I think we've at least narrowed it down,” Brent said, passing on what the senator had told him.

“You can rule out Julia Hernandez, too. She's out on maternity leave until next week,” Quinn told him.

“Assuming that Jared Elliott wasn't in the office, that only leaves David Ackman and Colton Reilly.” Kel leaned back in his seat. “Seth, what have you got on them?”

“No one had any large deposits into their bank accounts during the past two weeks,” Seth started. “If a payment was made, it must have been in cash.”

“What time did Valdez talk to the senator?” Kel asked Brent.

Brent scanned through his file. “The senator talked to Valdez a little before ten o'clock.”

Kel turned to Seth. “What kind of financial activity do you have for the reporter that day?”

Seth rustled through some papers. Then a slow smile spread over his face. “At 12:16 P.M., the reporter charged lunch to her company's credit card at a restaurant that's only a few miles away from the Capitol Building.”

Brent grinned. “The senator left his office around eleven to go pack for his trip to Cairo.”

“Tristan, check out the security logs at the Capitol for that day. See if any of the staff members left around eleven. Quinn, make a visit to the restaurant and see if anyone can identify Ackman or Reilly.” Kel turned to Seth. “You crosscheck the senator's staff's credit card records to see if we can narrow this down any more.”

“I'll check out the unlisted phone numbers at the Capitol,” Brent volunteered. “Maybe one will match those unidentified numbers.”

“Just make sure you keep them out of trouble,” Kel suggested, motioning to Tristan and Quinn. “I'm going to lunch.”

* * *

Brent shook his head in frustration as he and Tristan studied the security logs of the Capitol. Security officers buzzed in and out of the building's security office as both men came to the same realization: both of their prime suspects had left the building within minutes of each other during the time in question. Even the receptionist and Jared Elliott had left during the critical window of time.

“It could have been anyone,” Tristan finally said as he pushed back from the table.

“Basically,” Brent agreed as a security officer approached.

“We identified two of those phone numbers you were looking for,” the officer told them. “One is for a conference room, and the other is from Congresswoman Donlan's office.”

“Thanks,” Tristan said as he stood. “Maybe we'll have more luck with these.”

“I'll check out the conference room,” Brent told Tristan. “You see if the congresswoman remembers talking to the press that day.”

Tristan nodded as they stepped out into the hall and he headed in the opposite direction of Brent. When Brent found the conference room upstairs, it was being used. He noticed two men in dark suits flanking a door a short distance away. Curiously, he walked down the hall, passing only four doors before he was standing in front of Senator Whitmore's office. He was debating whether or not to go inside when his cell phone rang.

He nodded a greeting to the two men guarding the door and walked a few yards farther down the hall before picking up. “Miller.”

“The congresswoman said she sent out several press releases that day, and she remembers being interviewed by that reporter,” Tristan told Brent. “Her story matches the phone records. It looks like that call happened around ten.”