Special Ops Affair (5 page)

“I saw her about a week before she was killed, and she didn’t say anything unusual, nor did I think she was afraid of anything. That was the last time I had contact with her.” He fell into a sad moment.

“Did she ask you for any information? Anything on anyone in particular?”

“Like who? The man TES is investigating?”

The man in the photo Odie had seen.

“We should get going,” Jag said, and she knew he’d had enough.

“She didn’t,” Luis said to Odie. “I’ll bring what I have on Friese to the reception.”

“Okay, see you in a while.”

He waved and started toward the remaining parked vehicles.

Odie looked for Calan Friese but didn’t see him.

“He already left for the reception,” Jag told her.

Did he never stop observing? He must have listened to her conversation with Luis and kept vigil at the same time.

She walked toward the car with him. A man on a motorcycle caught her eye. He wore jeans and a black leather jacket and the helmet on his head made it hard to see much of his face. None of his hair peeked out from the helmet. Though he wore sunglasses, he seemed to be looking right at them. Had he been among the crowd at the funeral? She didn’t think so. As they drew nearer, he started the bike.

“Do you see that?” she asked Jag without looking at him.

“Yeah. No plate on the front.”

The man rode down the cemetery lane and Odie saw that the rear plate was missing, too. Whoever he was, he didn’t seem to want anyone here to be able to identify him.

Why not?

Chapter 3

J
ag left Odie sleeping in the room before driving to Mo McKenzie’s house. He fully expected her to disappear while he was gone. The way she’d avoided telling him about Friese had cued him plenty. But he’d seen her checking out the guy standing next to Senator Raybourne. Kate’s boyfriend. While she’d been talking to the senator, he’d seen the man leave the funeral and get into a white truck.

Jag pulled his rental car to a stop in front of Mo’s house. About the time he finished here, Odie would probably be on the move. The senator had given her a file folder yesterday just as he’d promised, and she hadn’t shared its contents with him. That grated on him. But the modified GPS transmitter in her purse, which was more of a work tote—Odie wasn’t a purse type of woman—would tell him all he needed for now.

Stepping to Mo’s front door, he knocked, glancing around while he waited. No one on the street. No cars passed. No one peered through windows.

The door opened and an attractive blonde eyed him through the space allowed by the security bar. Her brow lowered warily.

“Mo McKenzie?” he queried, even though he knew it was her.

“Who are you?”

“Jag Benney. I work with Odelia Frank. I was with her at the funeral.”

Her wariness smoothed and she unlocked the door. Opening it, she looked curiously past him. “Where is Odie?”

“She isn’t here. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“Without Odie?”

“Actually, it’s Odie I need to talk to you about.”

Her perplexity showed. “Why?”

“I know she came to see you, but did she tell you someone tried to kill her?”

The abruptness of it caused Mo a moment of stunned silence. “What? No. What happened?”

He’d answer that in a minute. “Did she tell you about a package Kate sent her?”

Confusion ravaged Mo’s expression. “No,” she said unsteadily. “When did Kate send her a package? What was in it?”

Just as he’d hoped, Odie hadn’t told the woman anything. She was too protective of her secret. It was the carrot he’d hoped she would leave for him to dangle.

Mo opened the door wider, allowing him to enter.

Stepping inside, Jag faced her in the entry. “Odie claims she didn’t have time to see the contents of the package before someone attacked her in her house,” he said, and explained everything, leaving out Odie’s strange behavior and the connection to Hersch. As Odie had probably intended, he didn’t want to put Mo in danger.

“Is that why Kate was killed?” Mo asked. “Because she discovered something?”

“That’s what I’m going to find out.”

“Does Odie know more than she’s letting on?”

He hesitated, not wanting to hurt her at a time like this. “I’m afraid of that, yes.”

“But…why would she do that? Why would she withhold information that might lead us to the person who killed Kate?”

Jag didn’t know, and it was enough to let Mo fill in her own blanks. He watched her face map out emotions of worry and hurt. Odie was supposed to be a friend and she might be working against the people closest to her.

“What do you need to know?” she finally asked.

“How much do you know about what she does?”

“Not much. I know she works for someone named Cullen McQueen.”

“She did special ops before she went to work for him, didn’t she?”

“Yes. She was an operations captain with the army. Mostly Middle East issues. Why?”

He knew that, but it was a soft way to lead into his next question. “Why did she leave? It seems like she was on her way to a successful career.”

“Odie is a very driven woman. I think part of her got bored and wanted something new and maybe a little more challenging.”

“That wasn’t challenging enough?” It didn’t mesh.

“Well…there was the matter of her husband dying. She resigned shortly after that and then Cullen found her.”

Jag had an idea what it was like to love someone that much. While his wife hadn’t died, she may as well have. His idea of her certainly had. And that’s what he mourned more than anything.

“What got her into counterterror ops?” he asked.

“Her dad was a colonel who ran counterterror operations. She always admired him. Daddy’s little girl, you know? I think she wanted to follow in his footsteps in some way. She was doing that with the army, and she’s continuing it now, with that secret company she works for.”

“Where is her father now?”

“He died. Five years ago.”

A year after her husband died. She’d had two hard blows.

“He was murdered.”

That stopped him short. “What happened?”

“Nobody really knows. His killer was never caught. But Odie thinks it was a professional hit.”

What the hell…? “Why does she think that?”

“He was shot twice in the head and there was no sign of a struggle.”

“Were there any leads?”

She shook her head. “The crime scene was too clean and Odie’s dad was well respected. Who would want to kill him? Not even Odie knew the answer to that. It was hard on her. Still is.”

“You’re telling me that in five years nothing’s come up?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Odie hasn’t found anything? Nothing?”
That
he had a hard time believing. Her secretiveness only convinced him more. She knew something. She just wasn’t telling anyone. Why?

“No.”

“Don’t you think that’s strange? Someone with Odie’s background should be able to learn something.”

“Whoever killed her dad must have covered his tracks extremely well.”

“I’d say.” Or she’d covered hers. But why? What was the need for secrets? Her father was murdered. Unless he was involved in something outside the law. Would Odie go to extremes to hide that?

“What was her father working on when he was killed? What was he doing?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Odie never told me. What reason would she have to say anything? She doesn’t operate that way.”

True.

“What was his name?”

“Edward Leland Ferguson.”

He made a mental note of that so he could do a little of his own digging later. “How did she get on with TES?”

“Her father knew someone who got in touch with the man who runs it.”

“Who did he know?”

“I don’t know. Odie’s work is always so clandestine. I never ask about it and she never volunteers information. All I know is going to work for that company was the best thing that could have happened to her after her husband died. Everyone was pretty worried about her, especially her father. It was good to see her bounce back.”

Jag nodded. Odie had had a good relationship with her father, and he’d had a stellar reputation. But what had he been involved in and why hadn’t Odie said anything about it?

“I just can’t imagine Odie deliberately hindering Kate’s murder investigation,” Mo said.

Yes, it was out of character for her. She was tenacious in her counterterrorism work. Righteous and thorough. “If she is, I don’t think it’s because she means to. I think she’s afraid of something.”

“Odie?”

Jag nodded. Odie wasn’t afraid of anything, and the fact that she was now convinced him she was in danger. Big danger.

“Someone tried to kill her, remember,” Jag said.

With a grave and thoughtful nod, Mo stared off into her living room.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she’s all right,” Jag said. He didn’t want to give her more burden than she already had.

“But…what if whatever she’s hiding is…wrong?”

“We’ll hope for the best. We’ll hope she’s just scared and doesn’t want to ask for help.”

A tiny smile of appreciation made its way to her grief-lined mouth. “You’re someone she can trust. I can tell.”

He wanted her to trust him, but that didn’t mean he’d trust her. Dishonesty went against his grain. He couldn’t tolerate it, not after the way his marriage had ended. He’d turn Odie in without a second thought if she was doing something she shouldn’t.

“You care about her.” It was more of a statement than a question.

It caught him off guard.

“I can tell,” she said again.

What could she tell? He couldn’t deny he’d been interested in Odie the first time he’d met her, but she wasn’t interested in him. And she wasn’t being straight with him.

“It won’t be good for anyone if I’m wrong.” And that was all he’d say on the matter.

Her smile warmed. “I don’t think you are.”

He sure hoped so. “Thank you, Mo.”

“No, thank you. I was worried about Odie before but I’m not now.”

Time to go. He wasn’t comfortable with her insight—romantic and maybe a little too accurate.

Odie paid the taxi driver and stepped onto the sidewalk in front of a Mexican chain restaurant. She paused to stare above the building’s roofline at the Marilyn Monroe painting on the side of the hair salon next door. Searching the street, she saw no sign of Jag, but she knew he wouldn’t be far behind. She almost smiled. Did he really think she was stupid enough not to find the transmitter he’d slipped into her work tote? She’d indulged him by leaving it there, and took her tote with her—which she wouldn’t have done otherwise. The bag was just one more thing to carry if she had to leave in a hurry.

A white Lexus pulled into a parking space not far down the street, but the driver didn’t get out. Was he looking at her? She’d check to see if he was still there when she finished with Calan Friese. She needed all her wits for this one.

The information Luis had given her more than explained why the police hadn’t eliminated him as a suspect. Not only were his whereabouts the night of Kate’s murder sketchy, he’d had a wife whose throat had been slit seven years ago. The killer had never been found. Kate’s throat had been slit. And like his wife’s murder, there was no evidence pointing to the killer.

Odie thought of the initials on the package Kate had sent. Was Calan somehow connected?

It made her wonder why he’d agreed to meet her. Was he so sure of his innocence or did he want to find out what she knew?

She entered the restaurant. A quick look around confirmed Calan wasn’t there yet.

Finding a table in the semi-crowded space, she hung her work tote over the back of the chair and sat facing the front entrance, listening to the noise of conversation bouncing off the high ceiling and corrugated aluminum siding. Just two or three minutes later she saw him walk along the sidewalk. He opened the door and entered, seeing her almost immediately. He didn’t smile. Not wearing sunglasses, she saw that his eyes were blue. He was an attractive man, not pretty or fair like some blond-haired, blue-eyed men. He was more rugged than that. But didn’t they all have that look? That special ops, he-man look that she’d grown to dislike so much. Except this man wasn’t a hero if he’d murdered his wife and then later on a girlfriend.

“Sorry I didn’t get a chance to meet you at the funeral,” he said, pulling out the chair across from her.

“Did you want to?” she asked, nonchalant…and then…not.

He sat, his eyes unwavering and not missing her taunt. “Kate told me about you.”

“Really? What did she say?”

“That you’re a ball-breaker and you work for a mountaineering company in Colorado.”

“Accurate enough.” She wasn’t going to play down his perception. Kate had told him what she was supposed to tell everyone. Minus the ball-breaker part.

“RC Mountaineering,” he said. “Run by none other than Cullen McQueen.”

She supposed it wouldn’t be too hard to find that out.

“What do you do for him?”

Did he really think she’d tell him? “I’m the cashier.”

That pulled a cynical laugh from him.

“Where were you the night Kate was killed?” She didn’t waste time asking.

“I went for a drive.” He sounded belligerent.

“Is that the truth?”

“It’s what I told the police.”

Cocky bastard. “Did anyone see you? Can you prove it?”

“No.”

She searched his face and found nothing that showed his emotion. Of course, his background made these games easy for him, and the dangerous edge surrounding him fit the caricature of so many that Cullen employed. Regardless of her bias, Odie didn’t like to see those traits used for the wrong reason.

“Did you kill her?” she asked.

He leaned comfortably back in his chair, appearing to enjoy this. “What reason would I have to kill my girlfriend? Wouldn’t it be easier to just break up with her?”

“I don’t know, would it?”

He didn’t respond.

“Did you know what she was working on?”

“I didn’t kill her,” he said. His eyes never changed, but his lack of response to her question made her wonder if he did know what Kate was working on.

“What did she uncover?”

“You think she uncovered something?”

Odie sighed, getting impatient. “You know I do. And I know you know something, so why don’t we just cut the bull and come clean?”

“Okay, you first.”

Odie didn’t like his smart mouth. “Did you kill your wife seven years ago?”

Now his eyes changed, a subtle flinch, but it was there. “That subject is off-limits.”

Why? Because he was guilty or was he still upset about his loss? “Don’t you find it peculiar that both their throats were slit?”

“I would think a woman like you would have already checked the police record.”

“I didn’t have time.”

He just met her gaze with cold indifference. He knew she’d checked the report, but he wasn’t going to budge.

Fine. “Where were you going on your
drive?
You don’t really expect anyone to believe that, do you?”

“Nowhere in particular,” he replied, ignoring the rest of what she’d said. But he sounded annoyed. And emotion had put it there. Emotion over his girlfriend’s death, and his wife’s before that. Interesting. Crime of passion or unresolved grief?

“Why were you driving?”

“I needed some time alone.”

“Why?”

Leaning forward with his elbows on the table, he said, “I had an argument with Kate.”

Was he taunting her? She leaned on the table, too, imitating him. “About what?”

“A woman like you has a lot of resources working for someone like McQueen,” he said.