Her brother cared, though Locke had never seen a sibling act like that with another sibling. It was like they didn’t even know how to communicate with words—just the sentiments that went unspoken between them. He shuddered to think what it would be like if they were forced to talk about their feelings with one another.
Alana wandered over to the cop who knew her father, Joe Morton. The man was scrolling through the victim’s cell phone. Probably looking at Beatrice’s call and browser history. What apps she had that might give them a clue why the yakuza killed her.
Locke needed to call the other director, William Matthews. His colleague was lead on the team traveling in with the president, while Locke was lead on the advance team. Coordinating made both of their lives easier, as would their being friends. Had they actually been friends. Locke respected him fine and they’d worked together a long time, but he didn’t particularly like the man.
Alana had requested to be on William’s team for this trip, but Locke had made sure she was on his. As much as she would rather downplay her background he needed her expertise and her knowledge of local people to aid their team on this trip.
As she wrote down the numbers Morton was also noting, Locke dialed William. He was glad Alana had turned her attention to something practical, even though they weren’t part of the murder investigation. It would keep her mind off seeing her first dead body.
“Matthews.”
Like he didn’t know it was Locke calling. “William, it’s Locke.” He bypassed the pleasantries neither of them had any interest in exchanging and told William about the dead woman, the yakuza guy who’d tried to kill Alana and the missing bomb schematics.
There was quiet on the line, and then William spoke in a low voice to someone he was with.
“Can you hear me?”
“Sure,” William said. “Seems like a crazy coincidence, the two of you stumbling on a breaking and entering gone bad. Is Agent Preston okay?”
“Alana is fine.” He saw her turn and smile at him, but he didn’t believe it. Nor did he believe William’s concern was simply that. More likely the man was playing defense—determined nothing would interfere with the President’s trip, least of all a break-in. “I’m a little more worried right now about the fact this guy stole bomb schematics.”
Alana’s brow crinkled, and the smile evaporated off her face. She turned away. It wasn’t his job to make her happy. She was going to have to work that out all by herself.
“Yeah, crazy. Bomb plans are probably worth something on the black market. People will buy anything off the internet.” William’s voice quieted, and he spoke again to someone he was with. “I’m interested to know this guy’s angle. Think the local police will find him?”
Locke said, “I’ll be going over there again with Alana to look at mug shots of yakuza soldiers. We’ll figure out who he is, then the cops can pick him up. Guess we’ll unravel this, and this morning’s attack on Alana, somehow.”
Would her brother help? The man could be a valuable ally if he wanted to be.
William said, “That’s the police’s job, Locke. You’re not their director, so make sure you go see their captain and get approval for anything you do in their jurisdiction.”
Locke wanted to roll his eyes but had practiced the art of resisting that urge from the age of four. William spoke like he was Locke’s director, or at least someone he reported to, instead of his colleague. “I’ll take care of it. And I’ll file the report.”
“Report?”
Locke said, “This needs to be passed on. A woman on our intelligence list is dead, and the man who killed her stole schematics to a bomb designed with the purpose of killing the president.”
“Like I said, it’s nothing but a coincidence. Even if your killer was going to construct the bomb from archaic plans he stole, he could be planning to...kill a wild pig with it. The president? That’s a stretch.”
Locke ignored the man’s sarcasm and said, “It’s a stretch I’m supposed to make.” That was their job—to see the threat no one else saw and take appropriate steps to neutralize it. Or if there was no other choice, to give their lives to protect the president. Locke stepped outside. “I cannot in good conscience ignore a possible threat. You know that, William.”
The other director laughed. “Alana was right. You are too serious. It was a break-in, some small-time theft gone wrong. Unless there was something left out of your explanation that proves this to be a legitimate threat to the president’s life?”
As if things were ever that cut-and-dried. “It was the same man. I’ve explained that.”
But that wasn’t the part of William’s speech that had caught his attention. Locke was still stuck on what Alana had said about him to William. He turned back to the house and glared but couldn’t see her. Maybe that was why she had wanted to be on William’s detail.
“If it escalates, we’ll take care of it.” William sighed. “For now, do what you will, Locke. I’ll be there on Air Force One tonight.”
William had already hung up, so Locke tucked his phone back in his pocket. At least he thought this could be a real threat, regardless of what other people’s opinions of him were. How the attack on Alana was connected remained to be seen, but his phone call with William had only cemented the fact he was alone, just like always. He would work to keep her safe, but Alana was his subordinate—and nothing more.
* * *
“Thanks for distracting me with this, Joe.” Alana motioned to her phone and the list of numbers she’d typed into her notes app. Incoming and outgoing calls Beatrice had received on her cell phone. Nothing jumped out at her, probably just cold callers and friends Beatrice wanted to talk to. Likely the information wouldn’t yield a reason why the yakuza had killed her.
“Tell you a secret?” He leaned closer. Alana shrugged. He said, “I don’t like dead people.”
“Neither do I.” She set her hand on his arm. “I’d much rather be surfing.”
“You got that right, sista.” His expression changed, and she caught what it was about when he said, “Seen Kaylee since you been here?” Totally innocent, like he wasn’t trying to father-figure her while Ray was in the room. Her dad had left a hole in her life she hadn’t even begun to figure out how to fill in the years since.
Alana made a face. “My sister wouldn’t answer the door even if I did go over there. Kaylee made it clear she didn’t want to see me again. Ever.”
Joe made a tut sound with his mouth and shook his head. “Shame. I heard—”
“Agent Preston.” Locke’s voice was a bark.
Alana turned to her colleague. Boss. Whatever. She pasted a smile on her face. “Yes, Agent Locke?” It just sounded weird to call him that. The whole team called him Locke, and she didn’t know what his first name was. Surely it had been mentioned when she first met him, but she couldn’t remember. It was bizarre to think of calling him something else, anyway. Like he had a personality instead of just a buttoned collar and tie, shiny shoes and a gun.
“We should make our last visit for the day.”
Right. The marine sniper, the one Locke had wanted to check the file for.
“And that’s my cue to leave.” She looked at her brother. When he didn’t say anything, she decided to go for it. “’Bye, Ray.”
He muttered, “Sounds familiar.”
Locke touched her arm, and she went with him. They were so different, and yet she felt more at home with him than with her family.
Alana