Cold Spite (Cold Justice: Most Wanted #5)

Chapter 40

CHAPTER FORTY

D elilah sat in a room in the small building on the outskirts of the FBI National Academy where she’d completed her training seven years ago. She’d always known what she wanted to do in life. Be like her daddy and stop bad people doing bad things.

Put them in jail.

Keep innocents safe.

Except that hadn’t worked with Scanlon. Not in the long run. Secretly, she wished she’d shot him, back when he’d tackled her during the fumbled arrest. As shocking as it was, she wished she’d pulled the trigger and removed the stain on society that was Joseph Scanlon.

Val would still be alive. David too. Clarence. The admiral and his wife, Heather.

Delilah jolted at the sound of gunfire that penetrated the double-paned windows making it sound as if they were under assault. It was agents on the gun ranges and NATs—New Agents in Training—being put through their paces, being taught how to make an arrest without getting rugby tackled to the ground.

You got used to the noise after a while, but today it made Delilah twitchy.

Assembled in the room was a small group of people who looked like they were in detention—although a lot less teenage cool than The Breakfast Club . Greg Trainer, Lincoln Frazer, Yael, and herself. Thinking about it, Yael was pretty cool. Delilah felt obsolete beside the brilliant, younger woman.

Maybe it was the lack of a uterus or maybe it was the fact someone had actively tried to kill her, but she felt old. Old and unwanted and on edge.

Trainer had succeeded in getting the task force moved to FBI Headquarters, closer to where he lived. He’d hung around Quantico because he wanted to see what Alex Parker’s team—which today was Yael—had uncovered, and what Cas and Makimi had discovered at JEB Little Creek–Fort Story.

The two agents were on their way back from Virginia Beach right now, and Trainer apparently trusted the other female agent enough to let her into the secret of Delilah’s survival.

Delilah was pissed about the move because it effectively pushed her out of the investigative loop, because the FBI Director had made it clear she still expected Delilah to stay dead until Scanlon—or whoever the hell had attempted to kill her—was arrested. She didn’t think FBI security would be happy with her donning a disguise to try to go into work every day.

Whatever.

No one gave a damn about her feelings even though she was one of the targets.

Boo-hoo .

At least she wasn’t dead.

She didn’t know if that meant Demarco would be heading to DC, too, and that thought draped her in sadness.

She picked at the dry cuticle on her thumbnail. Why couldn’t she simply move on and find someone else? Someone who wouldn’t destroy her when he left again. Someone nice. Someone boring. Someone reliable, she corrected herself. Someone she could count on not just when things were difficult, but in the minutiae of the day to day .

Demarco excelled at crises. He’d spent his entire working life training for crises. It was the ordinary she wasn’t sure about.

Frazer was on the phone, advising someone out west about a serial killer stalking the highways across the country. Trainer read the report she’d quickly put together outlining Yael’s findings.

The clock ticked, and Delilah swore her sanity was getting stretched thinner and thinner by each auditory movement of the second hand.

Finally, Cas and Makimi swept inside with a cold wind and raindrops dripping off their coats. His eyes swept the room until they found her. Locked on and held.

Emotion filled her.

The things he made her feel…

A fine quiver moved through her that had nothing to do with stress or fear.

It was electricity.

It was life .

She hated that she felt this way again. Knew that he’d break her heart in the end no matter what he might say in the meantime.

Perhaps it would be worth it.

Perhaps it didn’t matter.

Being fatalistic about her doomed relationship with Cas Demarco but unable or unwilling to stop falling ever deeper into the mire was a new low.

He frowned at whatever he saw on her face and then took a seat beside the agent he’d spent the day with. Makimi laughed at something he said, and he turned to respond.

Delilah looked away.

Was she really going to be jealous of a professional woman doing her job—over a man who had never believed she was enough?

Hell, no.

Makimi was not the issue here.

If Makimi, too, was naive enough to fall for the guy, Delilah would give her her number so they could hold each other’s hands in the aftermath.

“Update,” Trainer demanded from Cas first.

“Holtz was pretty shaken when I suggested Johnson was being offered a deal to flip. We planted the bug on his car, but I have my doubts as to him not finding it or taking evasion tactics—be it borrowing a friend’s vehicle or employing a signal jammer. He was recalled to base after he was released from custody. He dialed Mark Johnson. The guy didn’t pick up, but maybe the call itself is a signal to check however they really communicate.”

Like a draft email that was never sent or a chat box on their favorite video game.

“Unfortunately, the increased risk assessment at both military installations means Holtz didn’t lead us anywhere, but I was thinking that perhaps we could look into where he’s spent any time recently using his cell phone data.”

“Guy wouldn’t be communicating with Scanlon on his normal cell if he is involved with conspiracy to commit murder of federal agents,” Trainer argued. “He’s a SEAL. He understands technology.”

“Even so, knowing where he goes might give us some clues as to where to start looking for that vehicle.”

“Or like you said, maybe he borrowed it from a friend, or stole it. That’s what I’d do if I’d planned this crime.” Trainer scratched his neck.

It’s what Delilah would have done too.

“You get the list of people with access to explosives at JEB?”

Cas checked his cell. “Yes. I can send it to you or print it out. Holtz is on it. Lopez is looking into Holtz’s whereabouts on base yesterday. Even if he has an alibi, the fact he knows we are investigating might force him to make a mistake or request a deal.”

“Email me what you have,” Trainer instructed.

Yael raised a finger. “One suggestion. Perhaps you could look for a pattern of other unassigned phone numbers that ping off cell towers alongside Holtz’s personal cell? Maybe you’ll get lucky and figure out the burner cell number and be able to cross reference it to one making calls to numbers in Louisiana or Coronado.”

“Good idea.” Trainer’s expression brightened. “I’ll get our techs at SIOC on that.”

“Did you have the San Diego agents bring Johnson in?” Cas asked.

“No. Not yet.” Trainer looked annoyed.

Delilah thought it might be his default expression. “Where was Johnson when Admiral Sagal was murdered?”

“On exercise off the coast. Unless he has an identical twin too, he didn’t do it.” Trainer’s biting comment made Delilah cross her arms defensively.

She’d told him her theory that Virgil Scanlon was the man who’d flown to and from Seattle on Joseph’s ID and met Joseph in a hotel room there. As expected, until they had solid evidence that both men were in Seattle at the same time, Trainer wasn’t convinced enough and nor would a jury be. It wasn’t enough that the twins could have done this. The FBI had to prove they had done it. Then they had to prove which one of them committed the crimes.

“Where was Joseph Scanlon today?” It was another cross-country hike to the admiral’s house but possible. Maybe he had access to a plane or something. Some light aircraft. She wrote the idea down in a note to herself.

“He was at his mechanics shop all day today.”

“Are you sure?” She didn’t bother to hide her skepticism.

“Yes.” Trainer’s blue eyes blazed. “Deputy went down there and verified.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but he wasn’t finished.

“ Both brothers were there, in the flesh. Unless there’s a third we didn’t know about, then Joseph Scanlon did not kill Larry and Heather Sagal.”

She stared down at the table. The guy was acting as if her suspicions were paranoia rather than justified .

“How’d the admiral die?” Cas asked.

Trainer tapped a few keys on his laptop and turned the screen so they could all see.

Delilah winced.

“Mrs. Sagal received a blow to the back of the head.”

Delilah exchanged a look with Cas. Val had also died from a blow to the back of the head.

“The admiral…” Trainer swiped the photos, and a gruesome sight filled the screen. A bullet punctured Sagal’s lower ribcage, but that wasn’t the detail that stole the show. Each of the Admirals considerable number of medals was pinned to his bare chest.

Nausea stirred in Delilah’s stomach.

“I’m assuming from all the blood the admiral was alive when this was done to him?” Cas asked.

“That seems to be the pre-postmortem consensus,” Trainer said.

AKA the ME’s best guess.

“Sagal just retired. Maybe someone with a long-held grudge decided it was time to get his or her revenge?” Agent Makimi suggested.

“I’m sure the admiral had a long list of enemies. With Joseph Scanlon having an alibi that has been verified by law enforcement personnel, he is not a suspect?—”

“Any chance this police officer knows the family?” Delilah cut in. “Might he have lied?—”

“Are you suggesting some sort of giant conspiracy in the great state of Louisiana now, Agent Quinn?”

She was thinking just within Joseph’s local parish.

“It’s his hometown. Good chance he went to school with most of the cops in the police department and Sheriff’s Office. It’s not impossible.” Cas backed her up.

Trainer looked impatient. “Don’t you two think we should open our minds to the idea Joseph Scanlon might not be responsible for all of the crimes committed this week? ”

“Not really,” Cas shot back. “You see what isn’t pinned to his chest?” He pointed at the admiral’s bloody torso.

Trainer stared hard at the photo, but Delilah got there first. “His trident.”

Trainer’s eyes widened.

“That’s right. His gold trident. His Budweiser, as we call it on the teams. You know who was harping on and on about Naval Command stripping Scanlon of his Budweiser today?”

Makimi looked up and met Trainer’s stare. “Holtz. He did make a big deal of it.”

“Fine.” Trainer sat back in his chair. “But the fact remains we have nothing to place Joseph Scanlon in San Diego on Monday nor today. We have no evidence placing him in Virginia on Wednesday or planting a bomb—in fact, as of right now his alibi is he was on a flight when that bomb was detonated.”

“We don’t have proof yet .” Delilah spoke quietly and tried not to sound resentful.

“Then get me the proof it was his brother on that flight. That’s how it works, Agent Quinn.” Trainer twisted his head around as if relieving tension. “San Diego agents are investigating leads that involve Clarence Carpenter’s boss in the building trade who is believed to have mob ties. They’re also chasing the links with the mayor’s office, but as you know it’s hard to do without tipping off the press or the person of interest, so it’s taking time.”

The murder of Clarence Carpenter made so much more sense now. How to slow down and tangle up an investigation. Throw in a random murder and watch the suspect pool bloom.

“Did we get the DNA back from the Carpenter murder yet?” Frazer looked up from whatever he was reading on his phone.

Trainer shot him a look. “That murder occurred Tuesday morning. It’s Thursday.”

Frazer shrugged. “Technically possible to have the results by now. You should follow up on that.”

Trainer assessed the profiler like the other guy was trying to pick a fight. He visibly calmed himself. “I’ll call them on the drive back to HQ.” He collected his papers and shut his laptop. “As of now the admiral’s murder has not been connected to the attempted murders of both Agent Quinn and Operator Demarco and is not under the remit of this task force.”

Delilah’s temper spiked. “It’s obviously related.”

“Oh, yeah? So why can’t anyone point me to a single shred of evidence?”

She ran her hand over her face. Because Scanlon was a clever sonofabitch. “What about the ex-wife and kid?”

Everyone looked at Lincoln Frazer.

“The wife is a possible target. He’d see her betrayal as unforgivable. I don’t believe he’d harm his own child. Mainly because he’d consider her his property. Narcissists like spreading their genes around even though they rarely make good parents.”

A wave of distaste flowed over Delilah at the thought of being someone’s property. She’d been so lucky with her own parents, even if her dad was a little overprotective sometimes, especially since her brother had died.

“I’ll have a local agent go out and interview the wife. See if she’s seen or heard anything suspicious. Scanlon’s in Louisiana right now, and even if he is the mastermind of all this, I doubt he’s about to get on another flight tonight.”

“She’s pregnant. Can they at least warn her she might be in danger?” Delilah pushed.

“On the basis of what exactly? Three separate incidents that, as things stand, Scanlon is alibied for?”

Frustration rose up inside her. “Perhaps I could go talk to her?—”

“No. Unequivocally, not,” Trainer said firmly.

Delilah opened her mouth to argue.

Cas interrupted. “It seems likely that if Scanlon was orchestrating this, then he had help. We’re looking into Johnson and Holtz. What about the people he was locked up with? Anyone recently released who might share his point of view? ”

“Good idea. We need to check.” Trainer nodded. Makimi and Yael both made notes. “What happened with the visitor logs?”

Yael answered. “We’re still checking them. He was remarkably popular.”

“For a psychopath,” Delilah muttered grimly.

Frazer smiled.

“Keep working on it, and keep me informed.” With that he stood up, waving Makimi ahead of him through the doorway.

Yael leaned over. “I’m gonna catch a ride with Shane. See you in the morning?”

“Sure.”

“I’ve got a bunch of searches running.” She touched her arm. “We’ll get that proof. It just takes time because of the size of the data pool.”

It felt as if they were trawling the Atlantic with a tea strainer.

Delilah pressed her lips together and nodded. “I’ll look through what we have on his prison visitors again tonight. See if I can find anything that might hint at an accomplice.”

Emotions crowded her. Frustration that Trainer wouldn’t let her do anything useful. Fear that Scanlon would defy Frazer’s profile and kill a little girl because if he couldn’t have her, no one could. Grief. Isolation. With a sucker punch of what felt a lot like unrequited love.

Tears pricked her eyes, and she didn’t want anyone to see. Especially not Demarco. She stood, pulled on sunglasses despite the heavy cloud cover, slipped into her jacket and quietly left.