Faceless (Sinister Secrets Book 2), page 13
Now. How to start a conversation without being too weird and drawing suspicion?
He could mention Mitch’s name, but he didn’t want to attach himself to his former business partner if he didn’t have to.
Mistaken identity was his best recourse.
“Angie? Is that you?”
She turned, assessing him with open suspicion. Large eyes studied him for a moment, probably trying to determine the threat level.
Offering his most charming smile, he shook his head. “I’m sorry. From the back, you look like my good friend Angie. I thought you might be her.”
A smile froze on her full lips but didn’t reach her eyes. “No worries.”
She turned to place her order.
Thoughts crashed through his mind with the intensity of waves pounding the rocky Washington coastline during a winter storm. Those eyes. Just like Mitch’s. Just. Like. Mitch’s.
There was no way she wasn’t related.
A sibling? Maybe one Mitch only recently discovered?
Possible, but there was a big age difference.
In fact, he’d put this woman in her late twenties. Maybe early thirties, if she wore her age extraordinarily well.
That would put twenty to thirty years between her and Mitch.
A daughter?
He’d seen pictures of Mitch’s kids. They were younger than this woman, with dark hair.
Could Mitch have another daughter? Maybe one Tio hadn’t known existed?
And that accent. Australian, unless he missed his guess.
How would Mitch end up with a daughter in Australia? To his knowledge, Mitch had never traveled there.
“Sir? Did you want to order?”
The barista stared at him as if he was crazy. He probably looked it, since he hadn’t moved when the blonde woman had stepped aside.
“Oh, yeah. Just checking out the pastry options.” Lame, but it seemed to work. “I’ll take three shots of espresso and one of those raisin danishes.”
While he waited for the order to come up, he managed to sneak a few glances at the blonde.
She leaned against the wall, her gaze surveying the room with a studied casualness that was way too intentional to be casual.
Watching for trouble? But why would she do that?
When her order came up, she collected two tall drinks – one hot and one iced – and turned for the door.
He waited for the bell to ding, counted to three, then glanced behind him in time to see her disappear from sight to the left.
Now he knew which direction she’d gone. As soon as his order came up, he could follow.
Part of him was tempted to abandon his order, but that would draw undue attention. The last thing he needed was the barista remembering that he talked to the blonde, then followed her.
It felt like minutes passed, but was probably only about thirty seconds, before his order slid across the counter.
He smiled at the barista as he took the cup and pastry, then casually strolled to the door and slipped on sunglasses.
Once his feet hit the sidewalk, he turned the direction he’d witnessed the blonde woman go.
Too many heads. Why did so many people have to be out walking today?
He strode down the sidewalk, snugging a baseball cap over his head and blending in with the other foot traffic as he dodged people moving more slowly than himself.
About a block up, he spotted her. Crossing the road at the light.
She looked his way and he averted his attention, but didn’t try to hide. That would arouse suspicion, but one face amongst a few dozen others would be easily overlooked.
If he waited to cross at the light, he’d probably lose her.
A glance up the road found no traffic, so he jogged across the street, then joined a small cluster of people waiting at a bus stop.
The woman reached the sidewalk and continued straight ahead.
Funny how her head appeared to be constantly moving. Like she anticipated trouble.
Which made him feel like she herself was trouble, at least for him.
Not many people were that observant.
People with something to hide. People on the run.
And cops. Cops were always watching.
Could Mitch have gone to the cops?
That would implicate him, too. And Mitch was good at looking out for himself, if nothing else. Going to the cops, especially when he didn’t seem to know what Tio was really up to, seemed unlikely.
But not impossible.
He rounded the corner, spying the woman halfway up the block.
Veering off the sidewalk, she entered a building.
Finally. Now he could see where she worked.
Presumably.
He glanced at the building as he passed.
His mouth dried out and the coffee turned to tar in his stomach.
Emblazoned across the front of the building were four distinct words.
Federal Bureau of Investigation.
₪ ₪ ₪
Silence weighted the room.
Kevyn looked at each member of her team, all of them waiting for Dak to join them. All of them wondering what might have prompted the “everyone to the conference room now” request.
JD had finally arrived from the police station. Maybe that was it.
Dak entered the room and closed the door behind him. A file folder was in his hand, which he dropped on the table with a smack. “Noelle Orson is bleeding green.”
Kevyn looked at the group around her before asking the question she was sure they all felt. “How? With all her family’s money at her disposal?”
Pulling out a chair, Dak dropped into it and flipped open the file folder. “I don’t know, but her monthly expenditures far exceed the profits made at her yoga studio. No doubt daddy’s chipping in on her expenses, but her financials consistently show accounts with minimal balances. Sometimes overdrawn.”
Sid scratched his head. “Doesn’t make sense. I looked into the financial records of her studio. It’s thriving. She should be making bank.”
Dak shrugged.
“So what are you thinking?” Kevyn studied Dak’s face. “Drugs?”
“That’s what we need to figure out.” Dak spread the papers in front of him. “Her father bought her condo outright, so she doesn’t have rent. Only monthly dues, which are high, but not unmanageable with what she should be bringing home from her studio. She has a lot of transactions from restaurants and clubs and seems to enjoy the night life, but not enough that it should be bleeding her dry.”
Several pages were distributed around the table. Kevyn studied the copy in front of her.
Bank records. Large cash withdrawals jumped out as if in neon lights. At least half of her credit card charges were for restaurants, clubs, bars, and casinos. Casinos… could Noelle Orson be a bad gambler? “We need to figure out what these withdrawals are for.”
“Agreed.” Dak looked around the table. “But we can’t lose sight of the Cummings abduction. We need to attack that before the trails go cold.”
“Well, the other bartender didn’t have anything helpful to add.” JD rested his elbows on top of the papers in front of him and leaned in. “Said he was talking to the night manager as they walked to their cars together, then was on the phone with his girlfriend as he pulled out of the lot. Hands-free, of course.”
The way JD said it made her think the bartender had made a point of adding that. Like any of them cared if he was using hands-free at the moment. They had a ring of kidnappers to stop.
“He didn’t notice anyone interacting with Cummings in an unusual way that night?” Dak’s question drew her attention from thoughts of hands-free devices.
“Nope. Or the days leading up to it, either. Claimed everything had been normal.”
Same thing the night manager had said. Given that they had no reason to lie, she suspected it was the truth.
“I did get surveillance video from inside the bar for that night. Got analysts reviewing it now.” JD harrumphed. “Not that I think it’ll do any good.”
No one responded, but she suspected they all felt the same way.
A knock sounded on the door seconds before it opened.
Kevyn swiveled. OPR Agent Caldwell stepped inside, his sharp gaze slicing into her.
Her breathing jackhammered and her insides shook.
Something told her this wasn’t good. Not if he’d interrupted a meeting to find her.
“Agent Taylor, Agent Lakes. There’s something I need you to see.”
See. Okay, that didn’t sound too bad.
“We’re in the middle of an active investigation.” Dak’s tight voice signaled his annoyance at the interruption. “Can it wait?”
“I’m in the middle of an active investigation, too.” Caldwell’s tone, even and lacking emotion, belied the tightening of his jaw and lowering eyebrows. “This will only take a moment.”
“Can we do it here?” Kevyn added a light lilt to her voice and gestured to her team. “I have nothing to hide from anyone in this room.”
Ugh. Maybe she shouldn’t have said that.
She certainly didn’t want some elements from her past paraded around.
But it didn’t sound like that was what this was about. Caldwell wanted to show them something. Not interrogate her.
Besides, this was a chance to reestablish trust. With Dak, if no one else.
A brief pause punctuated her question, then Caldwell shrugged. “Don’t see why not.”
Crossing the open space, he pulled something from a file folder in his hand and slid it in front of her. “Do you recognize this man?”
Her breath caught.
Mitch Taylor! Caldwell had found him!
Another copy passed from Caldwell’s hands to Dak.
Kevyn resisted the urge to look at Dak. Couldn’t do anything that Caldwell might construe as dishonesty. “Yes. That’s Mitch.”
“You’re sure?” Caldwell’s even tone was beginning to grate on her. Couldn’t the man show the slightest smidgen of emotion? Good or bad?
“Definitely.” Dak responded before she did. “This is who I saw outside Kevyn’s house.”
Caldwell nodded, his expression showing that it was the expected response.
“How’d you find him?” A heaviness settled in her chest, although she wasn’t sure why. She should be thrilled that Caldwell had located Mitch, that this whole mess was almost over.
Caldwell turned those blank eyes on her. “The coffee shop. He paid in cash, but gave the name Joe for his order. Made me wonder if he actually used that as an alias. So I cross-referenced DMV records for late model red Porsches against owners with the first name of Joe or Joseph, then compared pictures and bingo. A match.”
The lump blocking her throat rivaled the rock settled in her stomach.
After all these years, her father was finally close at hand.
Maybe now she could get the closure she’d lacked her whole life.
“Have you picked him up yet?”
Caldwell shook his head. “Wanted to get a positive ID from you two first. I’ll be headed there now.”
She wanted to ask to tag along, but already knew the answer.
Besides, they had three missing persons counting on them. That was so much more important than a man who had chosen to disappear.
“What do you know about him?” Dak’s question penetrated the fog suddenly clouding her thoughts.
“Well, assuming this is a fake identity, it’s a good one. He pays his taxes, appears to make a healthy living, owns a penthouse downtown, and drives a Porsche that’s only a year old.” Caldwell’s eyes slid to her. “One divorce on record, to a woman who still lives in California. Two kids, both in their late teens.”
One divorce? That wasn’t possible…
Except that he’d been going by Mitch Taylor when he’d been with her mother, not by this other name. So naturally there wouldn’t be a record of another divorce, because it had happened during a life that he’d evidently written off.
Two kids.
She had half-siblings who lived two states south.
Pain spiked in her temple and her breathing thickened.
Did they know about her? What would they think if she contacted them?
Would they reject her as her father had?
“You said he makes a good living. What does he do?”
She blinked Caldwell back into focus as Dak’s question clicked into her brain.
“Works as a freelance accountant.” Caldwell snapped the file folder closed. “At least on paper.”
None of that explained how Mitch knew anything about the abduction of Jason Boggess.
“Do you know why he changed his name?” The answer to that question would tell her a lot about his character.
Caldwell paused. “It took some digging, and a lot of persuading, but yeah. He evidently started working for some smugglers. Unknowingly, it seems. Anyway, he cooperated with the investigation and in return, they helped him set up a new identity.”
She jerked back as adrenaline prickled through her body. “He’s in WITSEC?”
That would explain a lot. Why he’d been absent for so long, why he’d never even tried to make contact.
“No.” Caldwell’s word dashed the hope rising within her. “Claimed he needed a fresh start and thought that the stigma of the investigation would haunt him forever. Part of the deal for his testimony was helping him set up a new identity and covering up the change.”
It’d worked. So well that it had clearly taken Caldwell some serious digging to uncover the truth.
“I’m going to go pick him up now.” Caldwell’s narrowed eyes shot to her. “I’d appreciate you all staying out of my way until I have him in custody.”
Very subtle.
She swallowed hard. “We have our own jobs to do. But I have a few questions for him when you’re done with him, if that’s okay.”
“We’ll see.”
Not exactly a yes, but she was reasonably confident Dak would make sure she got to talk to him.
Caldwell exited the room, leaving a blanket of silence in his wake.
The speculation of the others carried an oppressive weight.
Pulling back her shoulders, Kevyn met each of their gazes head-on. “Boggess, Andrews, and Cummings are counting on us.”
“Right.” Dak shook his head slightly as if clearing away the distractions. “Let’s see. We were discussing Cummings. Felicia, anything jump out in her financials?”
“Nothing unusual.” Felicia opened the file folder in front of her. “Reported forty-five thousand on her taxes, with fifteen thousand of that being tips.”
Likely wasn’t reporting all her tips, though. Especially cash tips that were easy to pocket.
“She lives within her means. Drives an older model car that’s paid off, lives in an older studio apartment, and doesn’t take many vacations. When she does go somewhere, it’s usually within driving distance and generally only for a couple of days.”
Dak nodded. “So money likely isn’t a motive in her abduction.”
“Doubt it.” Sid piped up. “I looked into her family. Her parents are both still alive and rent a small apartment not far from where Cummings lives. Both work blue-collar jobs, her dad in production at a factory, her mom as a bookkeeper for that same company. Both have been there for around thirty years, but have little saved to show for it. The fact that she never left the neighborhood of her youth says a lot about the amount of money she and her family have.”
No one would be requesting a ransom from that family.
The truth settled over the group like lead.
Cummings had been abducted for a reason other than money. Since a ransom had not been demanded for Boggess, whose family could afford to pay, or Andrews, whose family also didn’t have a lot of money, it seemed likely that all three of their victims had been abducted for another reason.
She was now more certain than ever that Noelle Orson’s abduction was not the work of the same crew.
“What if we confront Noelle Orson? Maybe if we interrogate her about her finances and let her know that we know she wasn’t abducted by the same crew, she’ll let something slip?”
Dak considered her suggestion. “Might work. But she might also lawyer up, then we’d get nothing.”
“Maybe we question her in her home, rather than bring her down here? Make it seem more like a casual conversation and catch her with her guard down.” Questions to ask Orson had already started to fill her mind.
After a brief pause, Dak nodded. “How about you and Sid take that one? The rest of us will focus in on Cummings.”
Kevyn looked over at Sid, who grinned. “Ready whenever you are.”
She pushed up from her chair. “Then let’s go.”
₪ ₪ ₪
This was getting old.
Mitch tried to ignore Zane’s henchman who loomed in the corner like the grim reaper, but it was hard to do.
Especially since someone from Zane’s team watched every single move he made.
They read over his shoulder when he sent an email. Listened as he called his sources to arrange for deliveries. Verified all financial transactions.
There was no way he could get a message to Kevyn. Not with this kind of surveillance.
How long could they keep this routine up? Surely Tio didn’t plan to pay security to watch him indefinitely.
No, Tio was probably biding his time until Mitch outlived his usefulness.
This was a short-term arrangement. Most definitely.
Although the fact that Tio had created a makeshift office for him in the warehouse where he was being held made him wonder if there wasn’t still some room for negotiation.
Maybe he should forget about Kevyn. Join up with Tio, in whatever this was.
Yeah, he may not like it, but it beat the deadly alternative.
He returned his attention to the shipping manifest displayed on the screen and began translating it, using the code he’d personally developed.
Designer perfumes. Cosmetics. Handbags.
His contacts had come through on this shipment. It would be quite lucrative.
Tio didn’t have a clue how to read the code. He didn’t have the relationships with their contacts that Mitch had carefully cultivated.
