Code Name: Diesel (K19 Shadow Operations Book 2), page 12
Like earlier, the voice in my head was distinctly my mother’s when I considered insisting Bryar take her sleep med.
“What?” she asked. Maybe she’d seen me shake my head and heard me chuckle.
“I’m turning into my mom.”
She raised a brow.
“Not only do I call you babe, but I’m starting to sound like her in my head.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I almost suggested you take something to help you sleep,” I confessed.
“How does that sound like your mom?”
“Because you know what you need better than I do.”
She smiled. “I appreciate you looking after me, and I agree.”
“You do?”
“I just wish you could sleep too, and before you start contradicting me, I understand you would rather be awake and alert right now.”
“God, we’re acting like an old married couple.”
“Who hasn’t even dated.”
“Yet,” I said with a wink.
“Where should I sleep?”
“In my bed.” I motioned for her to follow, hoping I hadn’t left too much crap lying around when I was here last. I’d been in such a rush to get back to the hospital, I honestly couldn’t remember. Walking into my room, I knew Ranger must’ve stopped in and picked up after me since he was the only person I knew who folded clothes a certain way. Who was the mom now?
“This is a nice place,” she said, looking around the room and eyeing the fireplace.
“Do you want me to light it?”
“I’d love it.”
“So anyway, about this place, I’m thinking of putting an offer on it.”
“Is it for sale?”
“My dad says everything is for sale if you name the right price.” I rolled my eyes.
“What now?”
“It’s not just my mother; I’m quoting my father too.”
“I hope I get to meet them someday.”
I would love for her to, and I knew they’d immediately like her. Especially when they heard her give me crap about something. My mom always approved when my sisters did, said it kept me from becoming too full of myself.
I shoved a few pieces of kindling around the logs that were already stacked in the fireplace and lit them with a long match.
Bryar had gone into the bathroom, and when she came out, she was wearing the pink pajamas she’d had on earlier. “This place is heaven,” she said, breathing in deeply. “Right on the lake, three bedrooms, two fireplaces.”
“There’s a dock and boathouse too. And an attached garage, which you saw when we pulled in. That alone is rare. When most of these places were built, almost no one spent their winters here.”
“You know a lot about the area.”
“I’ve been here a while, and part of that time, I was sequestered.”
Bryar raised a brow. “Why?”
“Doc and Merrigan uncovered a plot to take out the majority of K19 Security Solutions partners and contractors.”
“Holy shit!”
“I know.”
She studied me. “That’s why the president of Russia resigned, isn’t it?”
“You catch on quick.”
“I like mysteries. I always have.”
There was something about the statement that made her sad. Not that I’d inquire about it now. Instead, I turned back into my mom. “Did you take your pill, Bryar?” I asked in a voice that mimicked the woman who’d raised me.
The smile returned to her face. “Yes, I did.”
“Then, crawl into bed, and I’ll read you a story.”
“No one’s ever read me a bedtime story.” Her voice sounded sad.
“You’re not serious.”
“I am.”
I pulled back the covers and motioned her in, then grabbed a book off the built-in shelf near the bed.
“What is it?”
“The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett.”
“I’m so excited.” She snuggled into the pillow when I sat on the covers beside her. “Is that sad and pathetic?”
“Close your eyes, dear,” I said in a voice that sounded more like my grandmother than my mom.
She made it to page ten. At page fifteen, I nodded off too.
When I woke, the sun was just coming up over the lake and Bryar was still out cold. I eased out from under her, grabbed my phone, and went into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.
I checked my email and texts for news of Fitzsimmons and wasn’t disappointed to see a message from Admiral that federal agents were escorting him to DC.
I turned around when I heard footsteps. “Good morning.”
“Sorry I fell asleep so quickly.”
“I wasn’t far behind.” I looked at the half-full coffeepot. Wasn’t Bryar supposed to stay away from caffeine? “Sorry,” I muttered, rushing over to stop it from brewing.
“What are you doing?” she asked as I was about to dump the pot.
“You aren’t allowed caffeine.”
“Who told you that?”
I tried to remember where I’d heard it and couldn’t recall. “Maybe I read it.”
She shook her head. “I can actually have as many as four cups a day.”
My eyes scrunched. “You can not.”
“Wanna bet?”
“What do I win if you’re wrong?” I could think of lots of things if she couldn’t.
“It doesn’t matter because I’m not.”
“Okay, what do you win, then?”
“I want you to take me over to the command center this morning.”
“If you think I’m just going to take your word for it, you’re wrong.” I did set the pot back on the coffeemaker, though, and turned the machine back on.
“So, you’ll take me?”
“Prove you’re allowed to have coffee, and I will.”
Bryar rushed off to the bedroom and was back a minute later with her discharge papers. “Look right there.” She pointed.
She was right. While it didn’t say coffee specifically, it did say caffeinated beverages.
“You win,” I said, pouring two cups.
“Ha, ha,” she said in a singsong voice.
“How adult of you.”
“Hey, if you can be your mom, I can be a little kid.”
I chuckled. “How do you take it?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No.”
She put a hand on her hip. “You take yours with cream and two sugars.”
“What’s your point?”
“How many days did you stand right next to me while I poured myself a cup? I can’t believe you didn’t pay the slightest bit of attention.”
“I had a lot of other stuff on my mind. You know, like finding a serial killer.”
“Standing right next to me,” she mumbled.
“So, uh, I still don’t know how you take it.”
“Black.”
I held up both hands. “Sorry. I promise I’ll never forget again.”
“You can’t forget something you didn’t know in the first place.”
There was a knock at the door, and I checked the time. Who in the hell would show up here at eight on a Saturday morning?
When I opened the door and saw Mayhem, my annoyance intensified. “Yeah?” I barked.
“I could hear you two arguing from outside. I figured you were both up.”
“We are. Is that all you needed?”
“Diesel! Invite him in,” said Bryar from behind me.
“Yeah, invite me in,” Mayhem said, winking at me. The asshole.
“Sure, sure, come on in. In fact, why don’t you just sleep here tonight?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Really?”
“No.”
“I’ll be back in a sec,” said Bryar, setting down her coffee and going in the direction of the bedroom.
“Coffee?”
“I’d love a cup.”
“How do you take it?”
“Black, same as Bryar.” Mayhem tried not to laugh but unsuccessfully. “Sorry. I told you I could hear you arguing.”
“We weren’t arguing.”
The man laughed harder.
“Anyone ID the guy with Fitzsimmons last night?” I asked.
“Yeah, two-bit PI out of Rochester.”
“He must’ve been better than two-bit if he found us that quickly.”
Mayhem shook his head as he poured his own coffee. I watched as he added cream and two sugars, just like me. I silently cursed Bryar. Was I going to notice how everyone took their fucking coffee because I couldn’t help myself now?
“Fitzsimmons found you,” said Mayhem. “The PI kept an eye on you while he was on his way.”
“If the PI was from Rochester, whose apartment did he go into last night?”
“Guess he knew someone in Syracuse.”
“Are you—”
“Yes, Buster is looking into who the apartment belongs to. Why are you so tightly wound, man?”
For the first time since I saw him at my parents’ place yesterday, Mayhem wasn’t smirking.
“Someone tried to kill her,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I know.”
“I know you know, but it’s why I’m so ‘tightly wound.’”
Mayhem studied me. “You’ve really got it bad for her, don’t you? And that’s the reason you’ve been such a bloody arsehole to me. Now I’m understanding.”
“Yeah, I care about her, okay?” I stalked over to the window and looked out at the lake. “Too much.”
Mayhem joined me. “It can never be too much. Bryar has gone through some…stuff.”
I heard her clear her throat and turned around in time to see her shoot a look of death in Mayhem’s direction.
“I’m ready to go to the command center now,” she snapped at me. “If the two of you are finished gossiping.”
I wanted to point at Mayhem and tell her he was the one gossiping, not me, but I realized what a jackass I’d sound like if I did. “I’ll change, and we can go,” I said instead.
21
BRYAR
“That isn’t your story to tell,” I seethed, keeping my voice as quiet as I could.
“And I wasn’t going to tell it. You need to remember, Br’er Fox, it isn’t your story alone.”
“And we agreed never to speak of it. Are you planning to honor that agreement or not?”
“Of course I am.”
“End of discussion, then.”
I could tell Mayhem was pissed, but I also knew he wouldn’t utter another word as long as anyone else was within hearing distance. Something told me that was especially true about Diesel.
“Why do you want to go to the command center? Aren’t you supposed to be taking it easy?”
I put my hands on my hips. “Because there’s a fucking serial killer out there, that’s why,” I all but shouted at him. “I don’t have time to ‘take it easy.’ If I do, maybe another young woman will die. I don’t want her blood on my hands. Do you?”
God, I was so mad. That alone couldn’t be good for my heart. I sat down on the sofa and took several breaths. I knew they weren’t deep enough to truly calm me. I’d left the hospital with an oxygen tank, but it was in the bedroom where Diesel was changing clothes.
He joined us. “Everything okay?”
“Oxygen…”
Before I could say another word, Diesel was on his way to the bedroom.
“What happened?” he asked Mayhem when he returned from getting the oxygen tank, turned on the flow, and handed me the cannula.
Mayhem looked into my eyes, the ones imploring him not to speak. “Maybe she shouldn’t have coffee.”
Diesel chuckled. “Yeah, good luck with that.”
“I gotta get back to work. I’ll catch up with you later.” Mayhem left, and my breathing returned to normal.
“Are you sure you want to go to the command center?” Diesel asked when I moved the cannula from my face.
“You promised.”
“I didn’t, but I’m not saying I won’t take you. I want to know if you’re sure you want to go. We can work from here in the same way we could there. Just with fewer interruptions.”
“Will you share all the briefings with me?”
“Yes,” he responded.
“Do you promise?”
“Yes. In this case, I promise. Will you share yours with me?”
I rolled my eyes. “You already have access to them.”
Diesel rubbed his hands together. “I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to find out what’s happening with Fitzsimmons. I bet he’ll sing like a little canary.”
I laughed. He and I were a lot more alike than either of us realized. Maybe Diesel still didn’t, but for me, there was such joy in digging in and figuring out the mysteries criminals presented us with. Motive, means, opportunity. Conversely, failing the victims wrecked me. We were at zero, and the serial killer was at four. I couldn’t stomach the idea of letting one more woman lose her life at his—or her—hands.
“That’s right, full access,” I heard Diesel say. I hadn’t even noticed he’d made a phone call. “Thanks, boss,” he said before he ended the call.
“Who was that?”
“Onyx.”
“What did he say?”
“What do you mean?”
I rolled my eyes. “Was that about giving me access to something?”
“He’s doing it. There wasn’t anything for him to say.”
“He really is?” I couldn’t help my skepticism.
Diesel handed me a piece of paper. “Go to this URL and type in that code.”
“Then what? Do I have to eat this?” I waved the paper.
“No, but we do have to burn it.”
I found out a few minutes after I’d logged in that he wasn’t kidding when he took it from where I set it down and tossed it into the lit fireplace.
The first thing I did was go back to the footage Diesel had shown me of the two women conversing near the lake. I wished there was at least one more shot of them. Something just to get even a slightly different angle. I zoomed in and studied the image, every blurry detail. Trying to sharpen it did no good, but there had to be something we could use to determine the identity of the woman on the left.
I sat back and studied it, starting from the top of her head, which was covered by the hood of her jacket, down to her feet, and up again. I repeated that process. Hoping one thing would jump out at me. Everything about her was nondescript.
I stood and stretched my legs.
Diesel was right that there were no patterns for us to follow. The only consistent thing was that in every case but the last one, no one had seen the abduction—if that’s what this was. We still didn’t know for sure, and maybe we never would.
“Has the investigation been announced to the media?” I asked.
“Not yet, but I believe Merrigan is working with local law enforcement to put out a statement. It’s one of the reasons she and Doc are here.”
“Because you have to stay in the shadows.”
“We all have to.”
“That’s what I meant.”
“It shouldn’t be handled that way, though,” he said.
I returned to where I was sitting previously. “What do you mean?”
“It should be coming from the FBI.”
“Why isn’t it?”
He looked up from his computer but didn’t respond.
“Diesel, did you hear me?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“Ask yourself that question.”
Because I was the only one who knew enough details to field questions. Not that we’d permit many, and we’d answer even fewer. Not “we.” I’d answer even fewer.
I pulled out my cell and rang the number Merrigan had given me. When I looked at Diesel, he smiled.
“You think you’re so smart,” I said with my hand over the phone’s mic.
“I am smart. Not as smart as you, though.”
I doubted he meant it, but it was nice to hear anyway.
“Hello, Merrigan. This is Bryar Davies calling regarding the statement being crafted to release to the media. I should be part of that process. Please return my call at your earliest convenience.” I hit “end” and set my phone down beside me. “I hope she calls me back,” I said under my breath.
Diesel raised a brow. “Oh, she will.”
“What makes you say it like that?”
“If you could play that message back to yourself, you’d agree. It’s the most assertive I’ve heard you be since you were assigned to the investigation.”
“That isn’t true.”
He shrugged a shoulder and went back to whatever he was doing—something that annoyed the hell out of me.
“What are you working on?” I asked him.
“The backgrounds of the five victims. Seeing if I can find a common thread.”
“What do you have so far?”
Rather than ignore my question like he typically did, Diesel stood and brought his laptop over to where I was sitting. “I haven’t gotten to three through five yet.” He showed me how to access the same files he was, then shared a document with me that contained the notes he was making on each one as he went.
“Do you want me to start a file for the others?”
Diesel’s brow furrowed. “No. Just add to this one.”
“Roger that.”
He smiled. “See? I’m not so hard to work with.”
“Neither am I.” I read through the types of things he was making a note of. Hobbies, schools, where their primary residence had been…anything at all we could use to find a common thread, as he’d said.
“I’m adding employment history too.”
“Good idea,” he said without looking up at me.
Had he always been like this? Had I been the one manifesting the idea that no one from his team would share anything with me? Before I could fall deeper down that rabbit hole, there was a knock at the door.
“What does he want now?” grumbled Diesel, setting his computer down to go answer.
