Cold Spite (Cold Justice: Most Wanted #5)

Chapter 26

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

D elilah took a seat on the opposite side of the room from Demarco as ASAC Trainer outlined what was happening regarding the investigation into the explosion that had blown Cas’s truck into a thousand different component pieces.

She was so grateful to Alex Parker and Mallory Rooney who’d come to get her from the house. Otherwise, she’d have lost her mind.

There was a scrape on Demarco’s chin, and he winced as he stretched out his neck, but he looked surprisingly unscathed, considering. Considering someone had tried to blow him up.

She shivered as the knowledge rolled around inside her that by rights, they should both be dead.

Instead, he was startlingly and vividly alive.

He looked ridiculously good in a ubiquitous black T-shirt and black tactical pants. Black hair tousled. Mouth pressed into a habitual faint smile that always made him look like he knew something you didn’t. He was more heavily muscled than he used to be, and she didn’t like the fact her body still responded to him like a compass needle seeking magnetic north.

She forced her attention away from him. She was glad to take this on record and for a task force to be set up. She just hoped they let her work the case. And mooning over an ex-boyfriend who’d dumped her five years ago was not gonna help her achieve her goals. It never had.

“Does Scanlon know you survived?”

“Oh, yeah, he knows.” Demarco leaned back in his chair. “Parker and I gave chase through the woods, but the sonofabitch had enough of a head start to get away.”

How would that effect the ex-con’s plans? What would his Plan B involve?

“Evidence Recovery Teams are working the crime scene. TEDAC agents are already en route from Alabama.” Experts from the government’s Terrorist Explosive Device Analytical Center knew everything there was to know about IEDs.

“You might want to have a demolition expert from the SEAL teams take a look,” Demarco suggested. “Especially if you can find who specifically trained Scanlon in his craft.”

That a man the US Navy had trained was now running around killing people would not be a good look for anyone.

ASAC Trainer continued without acknowledging Demarco’s comment. “We believe at this point that the detonator was probably a cell phone. Correct?” Trainer looked at Gold Team leader, Payne Novak, who sat next to Demarco. Trainer’s expression was decidedly unfriendly whenever he looked in her direction.

Great .

Maybe it was time to launch the Delilah Quinn fan club. Only her mother would join.

Novak nodded. “It’s much more complicated and time consuming to set up a pressure trigger or something connected to the ignition or transmission. Considering how many Hostage Rescue Team members were in close proximity to Demarco’s truck this morning, I doubt the bomber would risk spending longer than absolutely necessary to set up the bomb.”

“Plus, he wanted to press that button and blow me up himself,” Cas said confidently. “He’d want to personally obliterate me. ”

Delilah had to physically hold herself still at the imagery his words evoked and the memory of hearing the explosion over the phone.

“Why not plant it on your truck outside your apartment?” Trainer stroked his chin. “Surely less Feds around there?”

Demarco rolled his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “Either he didn’t know where I lived or he knew that my building is full of FBI and US Marines, many of whom have windows overlooking the parking lot.” He shifted in his seat.

Delilah spotted the wince he tried to hide. He was hurt more than he was letting on.

“If I had to guess, I’d say the former. I’m not that easy to find, and the chances of anyone following me or planting a tracker without me or one of the base guards noticing are slim to none.”

It hit Delilah all over again. How close Demarco had come to being killed today. If she’d died on Monday night, there was a very good chance he wouldn’t have known about Scanlon’s release and wouldn’t have been on guard. He’d be dead too. Contacting him had saved his life, and as much as he’d hurt her all those years ago, the idea of anything bad happening to him tore her up inside.

“But I suspect he had help. A guy just out of prison would struggle to pull off two attempted assassinations on opposite sides of the country without assistance,” Demarco said.

“ If it’s him,” Novak argued. “Two disparate incidents using different weapons and tactics? The only reason we suspect they are related is the tenuous connection to an old op.”

“If it’s so unlikely, why are we even here?” Delilah demanded hotly.

“Because,” Greg Trainer sliced through the sudden tension, “the director insisted. And she also insisted we keep your role in this and the fact you’re not dead as believed by your colleagues, quiet. Must be nice to have friends in high places.”

“Why would she do that?” Delilah asked in confusion. “I don’t know the new director. ”

“But your father does, doesn’t he?”

Her eyes widened. No way had her father pulled any strings.

“I may have, hmm.” Killion cleared his throat enough to get everyone’s attention. “Chatted with the director on the phone earlier—before the service actually. Turns out Delilah’s father and her father—who happened to be my station chief when I was in Islamabad—are good friends. I also happened to speak with him yesterday.”

Delilah felt her eyes bug as the others refused to meet her gaze. Killion had used his and her connections to get this team put together. It was what she’d hoped for, but inwardly she reviled the nepotism. The other part of her was extremely grateful she wasn’t in handcuffs and out of a career—yet.

“We need to figure out if Scanlon has help and if so, who else is involved,” Demarco interrupted the awkward silence and pulled the attention away from her, “and if there are any other targets this man is likely to go after. Who were the judges or lawyers involved in the case, the superior officers who had him thrown out of the Navy?—”

“He has a kid and an ex-wife, don’t forget. I think he’ll go after the wife.” She cleared her throat. “I spoke with her yesterday to make sure she knew he was out of prison. She said Scanlon requested supervised visitation rights and she’d agreed. He was supposed to meet his kid yesterday afternoon, but I don’t know any of the details.”

Greg Trainer stared at her silently for a long moment. She clenched her hands in her lap and prayed he didn’t throw her off the investigation. Regardless of what the director said, Trainer could sideline her to duties so meaningless she may as well be on a beach in Florida. As appealing as a vacation sounded, she needed to help catch this bastard before he hurt anyone else.

“The first thing we need to establish is whether or not Demarco was the target of the bomb or if this was an attack on HRT or the FBI in general. Given his statement, it seems likely that Operator Demarco was the target, but we need to confirm.” Trainer held up his hand when she opened her mouth to speak. “However, if we assume Demarco was the target we need to figure out how the bomber knew what Demarco was driving and how the bomber knew he’d be at this memorial service today.” Trainer emphasized using the term “bomber” rather than using Scanlon’s name.

Which was the correct way to run an investigation. Establish the facts via evidence not blindly follow an eyewitness’s possibly biased opinion.

But she knew what she knew.

She opened her mouth to say something but promptly shut it when Trainer shot her another look.

“In the meantime, I’ll reach out to the San Diego Field Office and see where they’re at. See if I can bring in one of their case agents onto our team and have them sworn to secrecy to protect the fact Agent Quinn is alive.”

She blew out a breath. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I have my orders.” Trainer’s lip curled. No one liked to be manipulated. “And, with his permission, we’ll use Mr. Parker’s company to see if he or his team can come up with anything that suggests Joseph Scanlon was anywhere near either crime when they occurred—or if we can rule him out as a dead end in our investigation.”

“Scanlon’s only been out for three weeks, and during that time he presumably had to set up his new civilian life.” The older senior HRT operator with a thick mustache pointed out. “It’s a pretty complex plan you two are suggesting he came up with in a short amount of time.”

“He might have only just gotten out of prison, but he’s had years to plan this.” Delilah straightened the cuffs of her jacket, thankful for her shopping trip yesterday. At least she looked the part. “He has enough connections that they could have been doing some basic reconnaissance ahead of time. Like keeping tabs on where we lived and where the ex-wife moved to.”

“I have the name of two of his friends still on the SEAL teams,” Demarco offered. “Might be worth finding out whether or not they are OCONUS.”

Trainer frowned. “We have to be very careful to find enough evidence to justifiably investigate active-duty military personnel. NCIS are gonna want in on that. So far, we have nothing more substantial than a hunch that Scanlon is involved.”

“I don’t know anyone else who wants to blow me up.” Demarco’s tone was dry.

Trainer sent Demarco a look. “Be that as it may, we have to prove it. And we have to prove it quickly enough to prevent more attacks on potential victims and not miss any leads that point in other directions, while providing clear motivation as to why we took the investigative decisions we did—especially when news of Agent Quinn’s deception comes to light.”

“We can surely find evidence Scanlon was in the vicinity, here today and in San Diego Monday night,” Delilah pushed.

“Unfortunately…” Alex Parker glanced up from his laptop on the desk. “That’s going to be hard to do when we have him on record as meeting with his child under the supervision of a social worker yesterday in Washington State, and there’s no record of him on any commercial flights except to and from Washington State.”

Demarco swore.

Trainer raised his brows in fake surprise.

“Well, I was in San Diego last night and look at me sitting here today,” Delilah argued. “There are no records of me being on a commercial flight either.”

“Scanlon doesn’t have your connections.” Trainer put his hands on his hips.

“He has plenty of connections.” Delilah was done biting her tongue. “And I didn’t ask anyone to pull strings for me, sir.”

Trainer tilted his head to one side. “So you’ll be fine with sitting this out while we investigate your attempted murder?”

She scowled. “What’s the point in me sitting around doing nothing while that bastard waltzes around plotting more death and destruction?”

“That’s a no then?” Trainer looked smug.

“Give her a break. It’s been a rough few days.” Demarco was on his feet.

“Said the man who was blown up a couple of hours ago,” Novak put in.

Trainer pursed his lips. “Agent Quinn left not one, but two crime scenes. Then let her colleagues in her field office believe she’s dead. Forgive me if I’m not convinced she’s going to be a solid team player on this.”

“It’s the only way I could think of to give myself some advantage over the person who tried to kill me.” Tears welled in her eyes at the thought of Val and David, but she blinked them away. No way would she be anything less than professional in this room full of her peers. “I needed time to think.”

Which didn’t prove her innocence.

“You know procedure better than that. Even if he did try to kill you, why would this Scanlon fellow kill Agent Gonzales and this CI of his?” Trainer pushed.

Dammit.

She hadn’t told them about the gun.

“I believe he was trying to set me up for David’s murder. I think he decided to complicate the investigation and send the investigative team off in the wrong direction by also murdering Clarence Carpenter, but I have no proof of that.”

“So more speculation. How exactly did he set you up for Agent Gonzales’ murder?” Trainer looked skeptical.

Delilah glanced at Demarco as she made her decision. His gaze narrowed. Jaw tightened. She reached into her bag and pulled out the plastic bag containing her Glock 23 and the spent bullet casing and placed it on the table. “Because I found this at Agent Gonzales’ house near his body.” She tried to suppress the emotions that went with the words.

Trainer lifted the bag .

“It’s my service weapon. I left it in my house when I went out for my run Monday night.”

“You took it from the murder scene?” Trainer’s expression was incredulous.

“I… collected it,” she hedged carefully. “It hasn’t left my possession since.”

“You know better than that,” Trainer pushed.

She dug her fingernails into the tabletop. “I knew that if the gun was found and identified as mine then I’d be the top suspect in David’s murder, and I knew I hadn’t done it. The killer made it look like a murder/suicide except he killed the wrong person at my house. He killed my best friend.”

“How do we know you didn’t kill them both?” asked Trainer.

“You don’t.” She held his gaze. This was a test. “But why would I be here if that were the case? If I went to all the trouble of murdering Agent Gonzales and Val, why am I sitting here in a room full of people who have the power to arrest me, rather than head to Montenegro and disappear forever? It will be weeks if not months before Val’s DNA is tested. Enough time for me to confuse the trail, have plastic surgery, establish a fake identity.”

Trainer shook his head. “With this in mind,” he raised the gun, “you can’t seriously expect to stay on this task force.”

“Why not?”

“Conflict of interest?” Novak coughed into his closed fist.

“Then what about me?” Demarco glared.

“You didn’t tamper with evidence,” Novak snapped.

“You think Scanlon is stupid enough to have left fingerprints or DNA on that thing?” Demarco’s voice was low and pissed. “Agent Quinn could have gotten rid of the gun and not mentioned it to anyone. No one would be any the wiser. I don’t think Agent Quinn should be berated for making an executive decision when we are obviously dealing with a clever and ruthless individual.”

“There really is a job for you at the CIA if you can’t stand working for the Bureau anymore,” Killion offered. “These are the scenarios we train for, what to do when there are no good options.”

He was trying to divert attention onto himself. It wasn’t working.

“Operator Demarco, what exactly is your relationship with Agent Quinn?” Trainer demanded.

Delilah sucked in a shocked gasp that he’d dare to ask that question in front of an audience.

Demarco looked equally stunned. Then he spoke quietly. “Before last Monday, we hadn’t spoken with one another since before Scanlon was sentenced in court.” His voice went gruff. “We have no relationship.”

The words scraped the scab off the wound even if it was exactly what she’d told him yesterday.

“And during the undercover operation?” Trainer pushed further.

Bastard .

“We were friendly colleagues who worked well together and trusted one another implicitly.”

He’d been her sun and her stars.

“So you were never personally involved?”

She noticed Killion examining his nails. Maybe the Agency was the way to go.

“We had to act as if we were in love for the undercover roles we were playing. We had to sell it to the cartel or die, and we were very good at selling it.” Demarco looked Trainer in the eye as he avoided directly answering the question.

Delilah was reminded what an excellent actor Cas Demarco was and how she shouldn’t believe a word that came out of those sinful lips. But she kept her expression carefully blank. They both had a lot to lose.

“Hmm.” Trainer looked unconvinced.

“Well, now we’ve got all that settled,” Lincoln Frazer spoke up. Delilah had met the FBI’s legendary profiler for the first time outside a few minutes ago. “How about we move on to making a plan to catch the person who just bombed the memorial service of a fine FBI agent and good friend of mine?”

“You’re okay with this?” Trainer waved his hand at where she sat. Delilah tried not to shrink with shame in her seat.

“There’s nothing but positives in Agent Quinn’s record, and in case you didn’t notice, she didn’t ask her father to pull in any favors on her behalf, which he could easily have done.”

She stared down at the table in front of her. Would she have asked him if he hadn’t been suffering from dementia? Maybe. She wasn’t sure and didn’t like what that said about her.

“I suggest we let her assist. Parker can use her insights to help figure out the man’s movements over at his office while others on the task force”—he looked around the almost empty room—“I assume there will be others?”

Trainer’s lip curled. “Supposed to be on their way from HQ, although why we can’t run the investigation out of SIOC is beyond me.”

“That’s something you’ll have to take up with the director. But let those others coordinate with the investigation into the San Diego crimes, including the Clarence Carpenter murder because that was more spur of the moment than the other two killings, and I bet that’s where the killer made a mistake. Another team works the bombing from this side of the country. That way we can keep Agent Quinn at arm’s length from the evidentiary part of the investigation and avoid any suggestion of impropriety should this go to court.”

Trainer pressed his lips together. “Fine.”

Delilah zeroed in on the profiler’s words. “‘ Should this go to court’? Why wouldn’t it?”

Frazer rested his unsettling pale blue gaze on her. “Because I very much doubt Joseph Scanlon plans to go back to prison. I pulled his files from the prison psychologists and his evaluations from the Navy before that. He showed definite signs of psychopathy and narcissistic tendencies.”

“But they let him out?” Demarco’s tone was incredulous .

Frazer steepled his fingers on the desk. “Severe psychopathy affects about one percent of the population but, believe it or not, not all psychopaths break the law, and not all criminals are psychopaths. You probably deployed with multiple psychopaths and trusted them completely.”

Demarco grunted, and the sound was so disgruntled Delilah had to hide a smile.

“Joseph Scanlon is probably an extreme case exacerbated by what happened to him. He was very good at being a Navy SEAL and loved the attention that brought him, but somewhere along the way he decided he wanted more. He deserved more. So he figured out a way to get it and started making that short drive across the border—where he knew he wasn’t even supposed to go without written permission—and began earning a nice little side income to pay for the fancy toys he and his wife enjoyed. He never expected to get caught. He especially didn’t expect to get caught by some rookie female FBI agent.” Frazer dragged this hand through his hair that still managed to look perfect. “And, frankly, I’m glad you pretended to be dead because from what I can see in his profile, that man is never going to stop coming for you. Not so long as he has breath in his body.”

“Fuck.” Demarco swore, but it was Frazer who held her attention.

“More importantly, I’m worried about what he might do, how he might lash out if he does discover you’re still alive. I certainly wouldn’t want to be the person standing next to him if that happens.”

“So you think she should continue to pretend to be dead?” Demarco pushed.

“I’m saying if she doesn’t pretend to be dead, there’s a high probability she will be dead in the very near future.”

“If he’s that obsessed, we might be able to use it against him at some point,” Trainer mused.

It was Delilah’s turn to shoot Trainer a glare. She was not just a sacrificial lamb to be used without consent, although she’d happily lure Scanlon back to prison.

“I’d like permission to work on the task force too.” Demarco stared at his bosses.

Novak shook his head, but Ackers appeared to be considering the idea.

“You can take the next few days. We’ll decide later with regards to next week.”

“What if we’re called out on an op?” Novak’s expression was pissed.

“Then Demarco will join his team and be deployed.”

“Thank you, sir. I’d like the chance to find out who attacked us this morning.”

“That’s a priority for everyone in the FBI.” Ackers stroked his mustache. “Operator Demarco can liaise between Mr. Parker’s team, the task force, and HRT. I want twice daily updates. More if there’s a break in the case.”

The meeting ended, but small groups formed to discuss various actionable items. Parched, she grabbed a cup of coffee out of a vending machine. The narrow-eyed stares from Trainer and the head of HRT kept her away from their particular huddle.

“You okay?” Demarco came over to where she stood alone.

“Sure.” She put the brew to her lips and then blew on the scorching liquid that resembled a dirty puddle rather than something humans should consume. “Just made to feel like something Trainer scraped off the bottom of his shoe, but whatever.”

“He was way out of line.”

“Was he?” She wasn’t so sure.

“Yeah, he was. He had no right to question your integrity. You’re a solid agent.”

Emotion hit her in the throat that this man would defend her this way. It was as if he’d forgotten the role he’d played in her heartbreak. The words he’d given her in the plane came back, that he’d walked away out of fear of getting hurt. She’d known it. Of course she’d known it. He’d apologized, and perhaps she needed to put it behind her for now so the two of them could work together to catch Scanlon and then go their separate ways.

“I understand Trainer’s point of view. I’d feel the same way if I were in charge,” she admitted. “I wouldn’t want me anywhere near this case.”

“The two of you have way too many scruples.” He leaned against the wall, crossing his feet at the ankles.

“Whereas you have none?”

He smiled. “Just enough to pass the polygraph.”

His smile made her insides quiver, and her heart gave a crazy flip.

Dammit.

Something in her connected with him physically. It always had. It was an unconscious link she was unable to control on the cellular level, but on the organism level? She absolutely could control it. She knew better than to fall for the charm.

“You sure you want to drink that?” He looked concerned.

She sipped the coffee and grimaced. “It’s disgusting.”

They both laughed, and she felt herself slipping back into their old ways. The easy camaraderie, the almost psychic ability to know what the other was thinking.

And look how well that had turned out.