Ellis flipped a switch on his desk and a bank of monitors to the left flickered to life. “There are people in this office who get paid to keep me updated on what’s happening everywhere in the world. I need you to establish other skills if you want to remain useful.”
He also had a file on his desk filled with photos and status reports and backgrounds on every person in Garrett’s neighborhood. Ellis had possession of redacted top secret reports on the brother and a separate paper consisting of less than a paragraph about some woman named Meredith Samms, a woman Garrett should have run through a background check before allowing her to move into his house.
When Ellis debriefed Garrett he’d add in a question or two about that. Being the best didn’t mean he could ignore the rules. Well, not all of them.
Ellis glanced up and noticed Andrew hadn’t moved an inch in five minutes. Good.
Now, on to the next issue. “Locate Darren Mitchell.”
“Right now?”
“Yes, Andrew.”
“But he’s no longer with the DIA.”
“It would appear we’re back to the obvious.”
Andrew’s eyebrow rose and an uncharacteristic spark of anger flashed in his eyes. “Excuse me?”
Ellis took the show of emotion as a good sign. He admired people who stood their ground. The weak wasted his time. “I’m aware of Darren’s work status with this agency, since I’m the one who fired him after Garrett filed his last operation report.”
“My point is that we can no longer track the man through the building or in his car or at his house by using his badge or the GPS tags.”
“There are other ways. He’s wearing an ankle monitor. It was one of the conditions of his bail. Get me a report on where he’s been and with whom. Also check the video surveillance.”
“Excuse me?”
“Say that again and you’re fired.” Satisfaction flowed through him when Andrew’s mouth snapped shut. “We’re tracking Darren’s moves.”
“All the time?”
“Yes. We used the Federal Intelligence Surveillance Act and got a warrant. We know everything he says and does, or we should. Your job is to check for loopholes.”
“Anyone else?”
“Garrett Hill has many enemies, the most immediate and obvious one being the fellow agent he turned in for extortion. With Darren’s trial looming, he is a logical choice for investigation. He takes out Garrett, he stands a better chance of walking away clean.”
MEREDITH PULLED BACK the thin yellow curtain with the strange flower print and stared out at the empty motel parking lot. The SUV they’d driven here had disappeared. Except for Joel walking back and forth in front of the door as he talked on the phone, there wasn’t any sign of life out there. Just the sun bouncing off the black pavement as it dipped lower on the horizon.
They’d driven across the bridge into downtown San Diego and kept heading east until the neighborhoods disappeared and nothing stood in front of them except a row of mountains. She had no idea where they were or how long they’d been in the car. She’d been too focused on keeping pressure on Jeremy’s stomach. Every flat, muscled inch of it.
“It’s not exactly four-star accommodations.” Despite the slight slur around the edges of his voice, it boomed strong and deep through the small room with the queen-size bed and bright orange bedspread.
She let the curtain drop and moved back to the bed. The white bandage glowed against his tan skin. She’d cleaned the wound then watched and winced as Joel stitched Jeremy up. Through it all, he gritted his teeth and introduced her to some inventive swearing combinations, but he never said anything else. Never yelled. It was as if he were made of steel.
She sat down next to him, careful not to let the bed dip or the shake of the cheap mattress jostle him. “I’ve stayed in worse.”
He curled one arm under his head and propped his body up on the flat pillows. “You need to date guys who treat you better.”
“I was paying my own way at the time.”
“I know you and Garrett…that you guys are…” Jeremy stared at the ceiling, his gaze following the lines in the crisscross panel design. “It’s not my business, but maybe he said something to you during some of your private time together. Something that didn’t seem important at the time.”
“I was his tenant.”
Jeremy’s gaze shot back to hers. Bright blue eyes held her fixed in place. “Tenant?”
“I rented the upstairs apartment.”
He shook his head then closed his eyes and let out a groan. “Shouldn’t have done that.”
“Are you okay?”
“Confused and trying to beat this headache.”
“Because?”
“It hurts.”
She sighed. “I meant the confusion.”
“It’s the house thing.” When he spoke again, his voice dipped even lower. He rubbed his temples as he talked. “It’s not possible.”
“It’s a fact.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” He grabbed his head as he spoke.
“You really do have a headache, don’t you?”
“There isn’t anything that doesn’t hurt, but I’d really like an explanation for the rental.”
Her gaze swept over him. His bloody T-shirt lay wadded up in a ball on the floor. That left him bare-chested and, despite the injury and pale face, as formidable and dangerous as when he’d stepped behind her attacker hours ago.
“I’d show you the lease, but it’s probably scorched, along with everything else I own.”
He waved her off. “Not a big deal. Insurance will cover most of it.”
“I hate when guys do that dismissive thing.”
His hands fell to the mattress. “How did I do that?”
“What about my memories? Nothing expensive or even important to anyone but me, but they’re still mine.” The photographs of her family and the diaries she’d kept since she turned twelve. She knew being alive was a miracle, but she mourned the moments she would now only carry in her head.
“But it’s only stuff.”
“Never mind.” A practical guy who carried light would never understand, so she didn’t even try. “Why do you doubt my renting status?”
“Because I own the house with Garrett. Because we never agreed to rent. Because he never mentioned you. Because I can’t believe Sara would agree.”
“I see you’ve given this some thought.”
“I’ve been stuck on an assignment in Arizona, but I’d think Garrett would have gotten word to me.”
“This assignment of yours.” Her gaze wandered to the nightstand and the two guns, one knife and strange-looking metal star thing sitting there. “I guess it explains the weapons?”
“Remember how I said I was a Border Patrol agent? Well, I’ve been undercover for fourteen months.”
“Sounds terrible.”
His mouth fell into a flat line when he tried to sit up higher on the bed. He flopped back against the pillow as the skin around the corners of his mouth turned white.