Текст книги "Something about You"

Автор книги: Julie James

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Twenty-six

AT BRUNCH THE following morning, Collin took a seat in the chair next to Cameron. Jack had left the table a moment ago to answer his cell phone.

“So,” Collin said, getting comfortable.

Cameron set down her forkful of blueberry pancakes, ready to begin. “So.”

Collin started things off with some not-so-subtle innuendo. “You look tired this morning,” he said with a pointed look in the direction of Jack, who stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows while talking on his phone.

“You look pretty beat yourself,” Cameron replied, nodding toward Richard, who had made his way over to Amy and Aaron’s table to offer his congratulations.

“We were up all night, talking things through. That’s it,” Collin said.

“Oh. Well, I can’t say the same thing.”

“Alrighty then. About time. Let’s hear it.”

Cameron opened her mouth to answer—of course she’d tell Collin about her night with Jack, she told Collin everything—then . . .

Nothing. She hesitated for a moment longer before shutting her mouth with merely a smile.

“That good, huh?” Collin said with a laugh.

Cameron blushed and waved this off. “Tell me how things went with Richard. Did you guys work things out?”

“There’s some fine-tuning that still needs to be done, but I think we’re going to try moving back in together.”

Cameron was happy for him. If working things out with Richard was what Collin wanted, that’s what she wanted, too. “So did you make him do some major groveling?”

“I didn’t have to. He said plenty on his own—all I had to do was listen.”

From their table, she and Collin watched as Richard shook Aaron’s hand and hugged Amy. A few feet away, by the windows, Jack finished his call and made another, keeping one protective eye on Cameron at all times. He winked at her, and she smiled.

“You are so smitten,” Collin said.

Two things happened then, in response to Collin’s comment. First, Cameron realized just how right he was. Second, her thoughts turned strangely serious. Or, in light of current events, perhaps not so strangely.

As long as she was in danger with this investigation, Jack was, too. And everyone else close to her. Collin had already been hurt—what if something had happened at the wedding, to him again, or to Amy? She trusted Jack—and the FBI in general—to keep them all safe, but still. As long as Mandy Robards’s killer was out there, she would always have a sense of dread hanging over her.

It was the FBI’s investigation, and she would do whatever they told her to. But she’d been working an idea in the back of her mind, something that could possibly speed things along. For all their sakes.

Jack finished his call and came back to their table.

“How are the pancakes?” he asked as he took his seat.

“Delicious. How did your call go?”

“The security system at your house is set up and ready to go. Which makes me feel a lot better about being there.” Jack grabbed his fork and stole a bite of pancake from her plate. “You’re right. These are good.”

His comments about the security system got Cameron thinking. “You know, having seen you in action this weekend, I’m surprised you felt comfortable being down the hallway from me that first night. While we’ve been here, you haven’t let me out of your sight for more than a half hour.” She caught the look on Jack’s face. “What?”

“In the interest of full disclosure . . . I didn’t let you out of my sight that night. I slept on your floor. Actually, more like against your wall.” He mistook her silence. “I didn’t say anything because I was trying not to scare you.”

She shook her head. “No, I get it. I just . . . didn’t realize you had done that for me.”

Jack lowered his voice so Collin couldn’t hear. “Don’t look so serious. Trust me—you more than made up for it last night.”

Cameron put on a smile, not wanting to ruin the mood. “Sorry. I’ll just be glad when this investigation is over.”

“It will be soon. I promise,” Jack said.

She nodded in agreement.

Particularly if she had anything to say about it.

THEY GOT ON the road shortly after the brunch. Cameron wasn’t eager to tempt fate—the entire weekend had been wonderful, and she wanted to keep it that way.

She had a lot of time to think during the drive home. She had some thoughts on a possible next step in the Robards investigation, but she didn’t want to bring it up until they were back at her house. After Jack confirmed that the security system was working, and after they had settled in and unpacked from the wedding, she was hoping the two of them could sit down and talk through her idea. She had a feeling Jack wasn’t going to be particularly receptive, at least not at first.

With the shorter fall days, it was just beginning to turn dark outside when Jack pulled the car into her garage. He told her to wait in the car while he checked to make sure the backyard was safe. Then he came back, grabbed their suitcases, deposited them at the back door, and escorted her to the house.

Coming out of her garage, Cameron noticed the new French doors on her upstairs balcony. “They look just like the old ones,” she observed.

“I had our security team put them in over the weekend. We needed them with the new alarm system.”

Jack unlocked the back door, left her standing outside for a few moments, then gestured for her to enter. To her, everything felt quiet and secure, but she followed him from room to room as he checked the house, waiting for him to confirm this.

“We’re good,” he finally said after finishing up with the third and last floor.

Cameron breathed easier after that, and even more so when Jack brought her over to the security keypad next to the door that led to the rooftop deck.

He pushed a few buttons on the keypad, then showed her how it worked. “We’ve got alarms on all the doors and windows, and glass-break sensors on every floor. You can arm the entire house by pushing this button right here. You should see this red light come on, and then you know you’re good to go. You should always have the system armed. I’ve programmed in a short delay—you’ll only have ten seconds after you enter the house to disarm the system before the alarm goes off. The security team put panels next to all the doors, so that should give you enough time. To disarm the alarm, you just enter the security code.”

“What’s the code?” she asked.

“You pick—any four-character combination that’s easy to remember. Not your birthday or anything obvious like that.”

He watched as she entered the code. “What’s five-two-two-five?”

“It spells ‘Jack’ on the keypad. Should be easy enough to remember.”

They headed back downstairs to the main floor. Jack had left her suitcase in the foyer, and Cameron grabbed it to bring it up to her bedroom to unpack.

Jack’s arms came around her and turned her to face him. “Do you want to talk about whatever has been bothering you all afternoon?” His eyes searched hers carefully. “You were quiet during the car ride.”

Of course he would pick up on that. “There is something I want to talk to you about,” she admitted. “But I thought maybe we could get settled in first.” She saw the stubborn set to his jaw. “I’m guessing you’re not so keen on that plan.”

He took her by the hand and led her through the kitchen and into the great room. “Good guess.” He gestured for her to take a seat on the couch.

“How come every time we have one of these conversations, I feel like I should be in a room with a two-way mirror and a bright light shining in my face?”

“Then I’ll spare you the usual interrogation tactics and get right down to it,” Jack said. “Is it us?”

“Is what us?”

“Whatever’s bothering you—is it about us?”

Cameron looked at him strangely. “Of course not—this was probably the most incredible weekend of my life. Why would I suddenly have a problem with us?”

She saw the tension drain out of Jack’s face. He took a seat on the couch next to her. “Oh. Good.” He grinned and threw his arm along the back of the couch, getting comfortable. “Me, too, you know. The most incredible weekend part.”

“But you’re still not going to like what I have to say.”

Glowering ensued.

“Do I get the bright light now?” Cameron asked teasingly.

“I think I might skip the light and go straight to that paper clip technique we discussed earlier if you don’t start talking.”

“Just promise me that you’ll consider everything I have to say before you answer.”

Jack looked her over with his dark, predatory eyes. “All right,” he finally agreed.

Cameron tucked her knees underneath her. “I’m obviously very worried about the Robards investigation. This is a strain on me, on you, and it puts everyone I know at risk. I know your team is doing all they can, but nobody’s come up with anything so far.”

She could tell from the way Jack’s jaw twitched that he didn’t like being reminded of this.

“I hate that the ball is all in this asshole’s court, and that I pretty much just have to sit here and wonder if he’s going to come after me again.”

Cameron could tell from Jack’s expression that he liked being reminded of that even less.

“But maybe there’s a way we can control the situation,” she said.

“How do you propose we do that?” Jack asked.

“That’s what I was thinking about in the car. And I might’ve come up with something. We figured out that there’s a leak—perhaps we can use that to our advantage. We know that the killer knew how to avoid the hotel cameras. But what if we spread the word that you guys have identified a guest who was using a camcorder in the Peninsula that evening—maybe for a vacation or a bachelor party, something like that. You let it be known that this guest caught on tape a man wearing a gray hooded T-shirt, blazer, and jeans, exiting the hotel shortly after Mandy’s murder. You say that the FBI crime lab is trying to enhance the tape to come up with an image of the guy’s face, and that you’re hopeful you’ll be able to identify him soon. Hopefully word will spread to the right person.”

Jack got up from the couch. Odd that she’d ever found him hard to read—because right then she had absolutely no problem seeing how much he disliked this idea.

“You know as well as I do that a man exiting the hotel wearing a gray hooded T-shirt around the time of the murder means nothing by itself,” Jack said. “You are the one who can tie that person to the murder. The only one. And the killer knows that. So what you’re really suggesting is that we give Mandy Robards’s murderer extra incentive to get you out of the picture.”

“I’m suggesting we motivate the murderer to make a move that we will be prepared for.”

“Cut the crap—you want me to use you as bait. You want me to provoke this guy into attacking you again.”

“I think it’s an option we need to think about, yes.”

“No.”

“You said you would consider everything before you answered.”

“It’s been considered.” Jack stared her right in the eyes. “And I will spend the next twenty years sleeping on your floor before I ever willingly put you in danger.”

Hearing that, Cameron got up from the couch and walked over. “After this weekend, I probably wouldn’t make you sleep on the floor, you know.”

But Jack wasn’t in the mood for teasing. He moved away from her, over by the window. “I’m serious about this, Cameron.”

“With you covering me, and a team of FBI agents who we’d set up in advance, don’t you think I’d be safe? If you came to me as a prosecutor, this is exactly the type of operation I’d approve. Particularly with such a high-profile crime.”

“If I came to you as a prosecutor, you would ask me about the risks. And I would tell you that no one, including me, can ever guarantee safety in an operation like this. I can take those risks with other people. But not with you.”

His words hung in the air between them. Cameron finally spoke first.

“I agreed that you’re in charge. So if you don’t think this is a good idea, I’ll drop it. For now,” she added. She knew he wanted to be all moody and broody right then, but too bad—she wasn’t going to let him. “I can’t promise I won’t bring this up again in the future, though. I can be kind of fussy about these things when I want to be.”

She caught the glimmer of amusement in Jack’s eyes.

“When did you ever actually agree that I was in charge?” he asked. “I think I missed that.”

“It was more of an implied consent. I didn’t reject the concept the two times you brought it up.”

He shook his head. “You are such a lawyer.” He looked out the window and sighed. “I do think it’s a good idea, Cameron. And I want this to be over just as much as you do.” He turned back to the window, gazing out as he thought things through. He ran his hand over his mouth. “I don’t know, maybe if we could find a look-alike . . . some female agent who looks like you, who I could station in this house in your place . . .”

He turned around. “Maybe if—” He stopped suddenly, presumably seeing the look on her face. “What? What’s wrong?”

It was the thing he’d done right then. When he’d run his hand over his mouth.

It struck Cameron—the piece she’d been missing all this time about the night of Mandy Robards’s murder. There’d been something in that moment when she’d seen the killer through the peephole as he’d left Mandy’s room, something she’d never been able to put her finger on.

It was the way his blazer had pulled tight across his shoulders as he’d reached forward to push open the stairwell door. There’d been a faint imprint underneath his blazer, the same kind she’d just seen underneath Jack’s blazer when he had reached up to rub his mouth.

Cameron stared at Jack in surprise.

“I don’t know if this means anything . . . but I’m pretty sure the guy who killed Mandy Robards was wearing a gun the night he strangled her.”

Twenty-seven

IT TOOK JACK a moment to process what Cameron had just said.

“A gun? What makes you think that?”

Cameron gestured to his shoulders. “There was a bulge under his blazer—I think he was wearing a shoulder harness. Working with FBI agents, I’ve probably seen it hundreds of times before but never consciously paid any attention to it. But when you moved your arms and rubbed your face like that, it looked kind of bulky right under your shoulders there . . .” She trailed off, as if unsure how to describe it.

“You could see my gun printing.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“And you’re sure you saw the same thing with the guy who left Mandy Robards’s room?”

“Yes. I always felt like there was something I was missing, I just couldn’t figure it out,” Cameron said. “Does that mean anything, that he was wearing a gun?”

Jack’s mind worked through this new development. They knew so little about the killer, everything meant something. And this piece of information could mean a lot. “I certainly find it interesting that he suffocated Mandy Robards when he had a gun on him.”

“Guns make noise.”

“Yes, they do. Although a professional could’ve brought a silencer to take care of that. I’m thinking more than ever now that this murder wasn’t something that was planned.”

“A jealous boyfriend, perhaps? Maybe he confronted Mandy about Senator Hodges and it escalated,” Cameron suggested.

Jack shook his head. “We already looked into that angle. The shoulder harness is an interesting development. You might not have recognized it, but someone with a trained eye would’ve spotted the gun right away. That would be a sloppy, risky move, with the city’s restrictions on handguns,” he said, referring to the fact that Chicago citizens were not permitted to own or carry handguns. “Makes me think this guy is licensed in this city to carry a concealed weapon.”

“Like a cop, you mean? Or an agent?”

“Maybe . . .” Jack mused over this for moment. Then something occurred to him. He strode over to the foyer and unzipped the duffel bag he’d left there earlier. He pulled out the case files he’d brought to the wedding—he’d made copies of everything and left the originals with Wilkins. He opened the file with the photographs of the people they’d interviewed in connection with Mandy’s murder.

He located the photograph he was searching for and took a closer look.

Interesting.

He handed the photograph over to Cameron. She pointed. “This is one of the photos you showed me the night of the bachelorette party.”

“His name is Grant Lombard,” Jack said. “He does private security for Senator Hodges. He carries a gun—I noticed it the night we interviewed him. He had the proper permits, and since Mandy had been suffocated the gun didn’t jump out to us as a red flag. I remember him from the interview—sort of a cool, professional type. I also recall him being about five feet eleven and one hundred seventy pounds, so he matches the physical description of the guy we’re looking for. I thought I remembered him having brown eyes, too, although I wanted to confirm that with the picture.”

“The guy who attacked me had brown eyes,” Cameron said.

“Yes, he did.”

“By any chance does Grant Lombard have an alibi for the night of Mandy Robards’s murder?”

“He says he was at home sleeping. Alone,” Jack said.

“Given the time of murder, there’s probably not too much we can make of that,” Cameron said.

“True. But perhaps I need to ask him if he has an alibi for the time of your attack.”

Cameron took a second look at the picture. “He can’t exactly use the ‘at home sleeping’ excuse for four thirty in the afternoon. There’s certainly enough here to make it worth checking into.”

Jack pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Wilkins. His partner didn’t answer, so he left a message on his voicemail. “Wilkins—it’s Jack. I might have something in the Robards case—a lead worth looking into, at least. Call me when you get this message. I’ll fill you in then.”

Jack hung up, glad to finally have an actual lead to pursue after two weeks of hunting and pecking in the dark. “We’re not going to talk to anyone about this except Wilkins and Davis,” he told Cameron. “Not yet, anyway. I don’t want to take any chances that the wrong person could find out that you know more than we’d originally thought.”

Although he didn’t say it out loud, Jack knew that Cameron, as a prosecutor, understood that the gun could be a key piece of evidence. If Lombard did turn out to be the guy they were looking for, she had just inadvertently stumbled upon the link that could ultimately lead to his arrest.

The idea left Jack feeling very skittish.

“I’m sorry I didn’t remember this right away,” Cameron said. “That night at the hotel, you warned me not to be sloppy—I should’ve thought of this earlier.” She looked annoyed with herself. “After all the times I’ve raked a witness over the coals for claiming to remember something after the fact. Now I’ve done exactly the same thing.”

Jack reached for her. “I hate to break this to you, Cameron, but you’re only human.”

“Shh . . . I’ve been trying to keep that under wraps for years.”

He smiled and kissed her forehead. “Your secret is safe with me.”

She leaned into him, resting her cheek against his shoulder. “So where does all this leave us for tonight?”

Jack wrapped his arms around her. “Unfortunately, it means I have some work to do. There are a few things I want to check into.”

Cameron pulled back, running her hands over his chest. “What kinds of things? And more important, how long will they take?” she asked with a coy smile.

Two days, Jack thought. For two days he’d been tortured by Martino’s interrogators and had never broken once—not a single word. But this woman had him wrapped around her finger in one second flat with just a smile.

He knew he should probably run as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

Instead, he kissed her.

She kissed him back playfully at first, until he moved her against the counter. He wound his tongue around hers and slid his hands to her waist.

“I need to get to work,” Jack said as he kissed the spot on her neck that he knew drove her crazy.

“You do,” she agreed, as her hands wandered down his stomach. “And I need to unpack.”

“I’ll walk you to the stairs,” Jack said. They kissed the entire way as he backed her through the kitchen and to the staircase. By the time they got there, his hands had somehow made their way underneath her shirt.

“So you’ll come upstairs when you’re done working, then?” Cameron asked.

“Yes. Shouldn’t be too long.” There was a lot of kissing after that, and suddenly they were on the stairs and he was between her legs. He pushed her shirt up and scooted down, trailing his lips across her stomach.

She sucked in her breath. “Okay. I’m going.”

“Yes. Go.” Jack pulled himself up and kissed her—just one last time. Then he felt Cameron’s hands unzipping the fly of his jeans. She reached into his boxers, and he groaned as she wrapped her hand around him.

He peered down and saw the sparkle in her eyes.

Work would just have to wait a few damn minutes.

“Do you have any condoms left in your suitcase?” he asked raggedly, at least having the presence of mind to think of that while she worked him over. The woman had the most incredible hands.

“Top outer pocket,” Cameron said.

Jack stepped away, swore as he rummaged around, finally realized he was in the wrong pocket, grabbed a condom, and came back.

Holy fuck.

The little minx had taken the initiative of slipping off her jeans.

But she’d left the naughty-boots on.

“You know I feel naked without my heels,” Cameron said.

Jack tossed the condom onto the stairs. He shrugged off his blazer, then took off his gun harness and set it on the stairs next to the condom.

“Slide up two steps,” he ordered her.

She did. He spread her legs and knelt between them on a lower step. He watched her eyes widen as he slid one of her legs over his shoulder, then the other. He felt her tremble as he bent down and licked the top lacy edge of her panties.

“Jack . . .” she murmured, threading her fingers through his hair.

He hooked his finger around the waistband of her panties and pulled them down a few inches. He lowered his mouth.

Cameron moaned. “Oh god, you are the devil . . .”

Enough said.