Victim #8, page 13
“You’re welcome,” Amberlyn said. And even though she was in desperate need of a day off, she asked, “Did you want us to keep working through this tomorrow?”
“No. It sounds like we won’t have any answers before Monday,” President Frazier said. “You two enjoy the rest of your weekend.”
“Thank you, sir,” Luke said.
The president stood and left the room.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this,” Amberlyn said.
“What?” Luke asked. “Working in the White House or having the president pop in on you?”
“Both.”
A wry humor lit Luke’s face. “It is pretty surreal.”
“Are you done for the day?” Amberlyn asked.
“Yeah.” Luke motioned to the files still spread out on the table. “How about I help you get all this locked up? If you’re up for it afterward, I can make you some dinner at my place.”
“I’d like that, but maybe tonight we should consider ordering out.”
“I like to cook, remember?”
“I do remember.” Amberlyn smiled. “And I’d love to come over for dinner.”
“Great.”
* * *
Luke changed out of his uniform and loaded the dishes into the dishwasher before he debated his options for dinner. He hadn’t thought through what he would make tonight, only that he wanted to make it up to Amberlyn that she’d spent her entire Saturday working. No one should have to read through autopsy reports six days a week.
He shuddered. He’d prefer to never read an autopsy report again. Besides the gruesome details included, he hated the way the victims’ lives were reduced to their physical state when they died.
He took a minute to circle through the living room to make sure it was presentable. Dozens of printouts covered the narrow desk by the window, but he didn’t have enough time to deal with that disaster. He folded the blanket that had fallen off the back of the couch and set the two throw pillows in place.
He wouldn’t have bothered with either, but his mom had added those homey touches when he’d moved into his apartment. Tonight, he was glad she had. He doubted Amberlyn would be impressed by his minimalistic decor. Not that he was trying to impress her.
The doorbell rang, and Luke took another quick look around before answering the door.
Amberlyn stood on the other side, a plastic bag in her hand. Her mere presence sent sparks of hope through him. This incredible woman wanted to spend time with him. She accepted him as he was, just like Pastor Mosley always had.
“Come on in.” Luke stepped back and waited for her to enter before he closed the door.
Amberlyn lifted the plastic bag. “I stopped at the store on the way over and picked up some brownies and ice cream.”
“Brownie sundaes for dessert?” Luke nodded his approval. He loved that Amberlyn enjoyed dessert as much as he did. “I could get behind that.”
Amberlyn’s eyes sparked with mischief. “There might be some hot fudge in here too. I think we earned it after the hours we put in today.”
“You’re the one who earned it,” Luke said. “I was scheduled to work anyway.”
“Maybe so, but we got a lot accomplished.”
“True.” Luke led the way into the kitchen. “I need your help deciding what to make.”
“What are my options?” Amberlyn pulled the contents from the bag and set everything on his counter. She passed him the ice cream.
Luke put it in the freezer and checked the contents for easy dinner options. “I have some frozen ravioli and some hamburger patties in here. I can cook up either of those, or I can make some shrimp lo mein.”
“You know how to make lo mein?”
“Yeah. It’s pretty easy.”
“This I have to see.” She slipped off her coat and set it over one of his kitchen chairs. “What can I do to help?”
“You can thaw the shrimp for me.” Luke pulled it out of the freezer and retrieved a colander.
They worked together, chopping vegetables, cooking pasta, and creating the sauce that would give the noodles that taste of the Far East.
When they sat down to eat and Amberlyn took her first bite, she hummed her approval. “Oh my gosh. This is so good.”
“Glad you like it.”
“I love it.” She twirled more pasta onto her fork. “You are a man of many hidden talents.”
“I don’t know about that.” Right now, the only talent that mattered was his ability to interpret data and figure out what the Azerbaijani military was up to.
“I have a question,” Amberlyn said. “Does the president often ask for your help?”
“You mean, like, working with you on this case?” Luke asked.
“Yeah. I mean, I’ve only known you for a month and a half.” She broke off and corrected herself to acknowledge their first disastrous meeting a few years ago. “I’ve only really known you for a month and a half, and this is the second time you’ve been involved with an FBI case.”
“It never happened before the Forever Freedom case,” Luke said. But he couldn’t deny he liked being in the inner circle of the intelligence community. “I think the only reason he pulled me in this time is because I recognized Torsten Grigoryan on your evidence board.”
“Maybe.” Amberlyn took another bite and fell silent for a moment. “What do you think is actually going on at that base in Azerbaijan? I’m having a hard time believing Grigoryan and Tate would be killed to keep people from learning about a nuclear facility.”
It was extreme. “Maybe that’s not all they knew about.”
“That’s what worries me.”
“Do you really want to talk about this?” Luke gestured in the general direction of the living room. “I have all sorts of maps and alliance charts in there if you want to see them.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And what does your research tell you?”
“Azerbaijan enjoyed a strong alliance with Turkey, at least before President Zadeh took over. I wonder if that’s changed since the prime minister of Turkey had a secret meeting with the presidents of Georgia and Armenia in October.”
“Was anyone there from Azerbaijan?”
“No. And Turkey and Armenia have had some tensions ever since Turkey sided with Azerbaijan in one of their territorial disputes. The border isn’t even open between Turkey and Armenia.”
“How long has the president of Azerbaijan been in power?” Amberlyn asked.
“Almost two years, but we don’t have a lot of intel on him.” Luke stood and crossed to his desk. He fished out the printout of the top Azerbaijani officials and brought it with him back to the table. “The minister of the interior and his intelligence director are both relatively new. They were both put in place last year, after their predecessors both retired.”
“Maybe we need to look into them.”
Luke set his fork down. “I can put in the request with the CIA when I go into work tomorrow.”
“Good idea.” Amberlyn pushed back from the table and carried her dish to the sink.
Luke collected his plate and the pan from the center of the table. He divided the leftovers so Amberlyn could take some home with her, then put his away.
“Thanks for this.” Amberlyn set the container next to her coat. “Ready for some dessert?”
“Sure.” He retrieved two bowls, his mind racing. He wasn’t ready to be alone, but he didn’t know how to suggest that she stay longer.
Amberlyn dished out the ice cream. “Are you going to have any days off before we leave for Thanksgiving?”
“No. That’s part of the deal with getting the whole weekend off.”
“That’s too bad.” She turned and pointed at the bottle of hot fudge. “Can you heat that up for me?”
“Sure.” Luke spooned some into a small bowl and put it in the microwave. He turned at the same time Amberlyn started to move toward the freezer.
Luke stared down at her. Her gaze lifted to his, and for an instant, Luke was transported back to when they were pretending to be a couple. Together they had stopped a terrorist attack, but his efforts hadn’t been enough to save Pastor Mosley, nor had Amberlyn’s been able to save Chanelle.
A lump formed in his throat, and his heartbeat pounded in his chest as a fresh wave of grief washed over him.
The spoon in his hand slipped through his fingers and clattered onto the floor, leaving a smear of chocolate behind.
As though the spell had been broken, both of them stepped back. “Sorry.” Luke leaned down and snatched up the fallen spoon, then grabbed a dish cloth to clean the mess.
Amberlyn put a hand on the counter for a brief moment before she retrieved the ice cream. “We should probably eat our dessert, and then I should go. You have work tomorrow.”
He let his desire for company escape him. “Or you could stay, and we could watch a movie.”
She opened the ice cream, and a slow smile lit her face. “I’d like that.”
Chapter 20
Amberlyn had spent four days waiting for news from the FBI legal attaché in Istanbul and wishing she could figure out what was happening between her and Luke. For a moment on Saturday night, she had seen how vulnerable he really was. She’d wanted to take his hand and comfort him, but then he’d stepped back and locked his emotions away from her and everyone else.
She’d been so sure he’d want her to leave after what she was sure had been self-blame for Pastor Mosley’s death, but Luke had invited her to stay, both of them enjoying a movie together. She’d done everything she could to help Luke understand that he wasn’t at fault and that he’d have to let go of his painful past in order to heal. Yet despite all her education and experience in the field of psychology, nothing would change the simple truth: She couldn’t help him if he didn’t let her in. She needed his trust every bit as much as she wanted his friendship.
They were making progress, but that didn’t stop the ache from forming in her chest as she wished for more.
He wasn’t ready. His actions Saturday night had reinforced his words, and for now, she couldn’t think about what might have been or what could be.
She shook that thought away. Work. She needed to focus on work. It was already Wednesday, and she needed answers.
Her impatience with Agent Rutgers, the FBI liaison officer in Istanbul, had reached its boiling point, and she was done waiting. With the eight-hour time difference in mind, Amberlyn strode into her office at six thirty in the morning. As soon as she was settled at her desk, with her computer on, she checked her email. As she suspected, nothing new from Rutgers. Did he not understand the importance of this information? She shook her head. Of course he didn’t. He likely had no clue that these murders could be connected to the development of nuclear weapons.
She looked up the correct number and country code and dialed. The phone rang five times before it rolled to voice mail. She left another message, the fifth in three days, and lowered her phone.
Frustrated both with the lack of success and the fact that she’d gotten up early for nothing, she leaned back in her chair. She was still debating how to spend her morning when her phone rang—Rutgers calling her back.
“This is Amberlyn.”
“Hey, it’s Sam Rutgers. Sorry I missed your call. I was on the phone with the chief of police.”
She wasn’t sure she believed him, but at the moment, she didn’t care if he was telling the truth. She simply wanted answers. “Did you get anything from him?”
“Yes, but not answers you’re going to like,” Rutgers said. “You were correct that there should have been three names on all the reports, and the same name was missing each time.”
“Who is it?”
“Deniz Kilic.”
Now they were getting somewhere. “Has he been questioned yet?”
“No one knows where he is.”
“I’m not following,” Amberlyn said.
“It took us a while to sort everything out too.” Rutgers’s sigh carried over the phone. “Kilic showed up at their precinct, claiming to be from another division that specializes in serial killings. He worked with them on site for several weeks, showing up every time there was a new murder. They granted him access to their case files. But when I called asking about him, they couldn’t find any record of him anywhere in the police system.”
“So it was someone pretending to be a cop?” Amberlyn shook her head. “Didn’t anyone check him out before granting him access?”
“According to the police chief, he’d made a call to the man’s supposed supervisor, but when he followed up yesterday, the man said he’d never heard of Kilic.”
“Which means someone likely intercepted a call.”
“And Deniz Kilic is probably an alias,” Rutgers said. “The officers who worked with him are meeting with a sketch artist. As soon as I have it for you, I’ll send it over.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Amberlyn said. “What about the missing witness report?”
“Missing is the key word. No one knows what happened to it,” Rutgers said.
“Great. Any chance someone can go interview the witness again?”
“I already put in the request with the police chief,” Rutgers said. “Unfortunately, with all the problems Armenia is having with Iran right now, Turkey has allocated a lot of resources to the Iranian border. That’s stretched the police force a lot more than usual. I don’t know how soon they’ll follow up on it.”
“Make sure the police chief knows this is urgent.”
“I will.” Rutgers paused a moment. “You realize that with the level of planning it required for this guy to insert himself into a police department, he has to be a pro.”
Which meant he wouldn’t be easy to find. “Get me the sketch, and I’ll send it over to the CIA. Hopefully, someone will have a record of him and who he works for.”
“I’ll get it to you as soon as I can.”
“Thanks.” Amberlyn ended the call and texted Luke. Are you at work yet?
His response popped up a moment later. Yes. What’s up?
I have some answers on that missing name.
Her phone rang an instant later. Luke.
“What did you find?” Luke asked.
“Just another piece of the puzzle that doesn’t seem to fit.” Amberlyn settled into her seat and shared the disturbing news that the assassin was still a mystery.
Chapter 21
Luke had worried that he and Amberlyn wouldn’t have much to say on the five-hour train ride from Virginia to New York, but he should have known better. Just as when they’d spent time together in his hometown, the conversation flowed easily this morning. Maybe it was because Amberlyn didn’t seem to need to fill the occasional quiet moments that occurred between them.
They were within fifteen minutes of Penn Station when Amberlyn broke one of those stretches of silence. “Can I be honest with you?”
Luke lifted an eyebrow. “When have you ever not been honest with me?”
“Okay, good point.”
His lips twitched into a smile. “So, what are you being honest with me about?”
“I’m nervous.” Amberlyn shifted in her seat so she was facing him more fully. “I’ve watched your mom on TV for years. She’s amazing, and I’m having a hard time wrapping my mind around the idea of staying at her house.”
“It’s a condo,” Luke said. When Amberlyn narrowed her eyes, he fought back another smile trying to form. “And there’s no need to be nervous. She’s just my mom.”
Besides, if anyone should be nervous, it was him.
“Your mom is one of the most famous newscasters in the country.”
“We don’t tell her that,” Luke said. “We don’t want it to go to her head.”
As he’d hoped, Amberlyn laughed. “I’m serious.”
“So am I. She’ll use any excuse there is to get out of doing the dishes.” He put his hand on Amberlyn’s, both to gain comfort and to give it. “Don’t think of her as the person you watch on the news.”
“That’s easier said than done.” She let out a sigh. “Were your other friends nervous when they met her?”
“You’ll be the first friend I’ve introduced to her since she moved to New York.”
Amberlyn lifted her eyebrows. “How is that possible?”
“The only girl I really dated during college didn’t last long enough for me to bother introducing her to my family, and it was easier not to tell my other friends who my mom is.”
“You aren’t embarrassed by her, are you?”
“No, of course not.” Luke shook his head. “My mom’s incredible, but after having so many people in high school always trying to put me in my place, I figured it might be best not to let people know I have family they might consider famous.”
He looked down at his hand on Amberlyn’s, embarrassed that he had placed it there. They weren’t pretending to be a couple. And gestures like this one would undoubtedly fuel his family’s speculation about his relationship with Amberlyn. He couldn’t explain it to himself, much less to them, but he was certain of one thing: He didn’t want Amberlyn to ever be hurt because of his inadequacies.
He pulled his hand back.
She looked down at her own hand for a moment and then shook her head. “It still boggles my mind that the people you went to high school with bullied you so badly.”
Luke didn’t want to think about Pineview now, not when other people on the train might be listening in on their conversation. “That’s in the past.” Pastor Mosley was in the past. And that hurt.
The announcement came over the intercom that they were arriving at Penn Station.
Luke’s palms dampened. They were here, and Amberlyn was really about to meet his family. He stood and pulled Amberlyn’s suitcase down from the overhead storage rack. He then retrieved his own. Trying to play it cool, he asked, “You ready?”
