Dark Deeds Read online

  Eve’s heart galloped, spurred by the image. “Like flames.” Like the Circle’s brand.

  She’d only heard rumors of how the organization marked its victims and property. Had this prostitute been both? Officials claimed the Circle’s reach had been cut off in Chicago over a decade ago. So who was this woman, and how was she connected to the defunct organization? Eve’s scalp tingled, sensing the beginning of a major news story.

  Chapter Five

  Saturday, 6:00 a.m.

  Brooklyn

  The freezing pre-sunrise temperatures lent a bite to the air that Diego appreciated. It cleared his brain, wiping away the final vestiges of sleep. The shipment was on time, the transfer completed before the sun’s rays softened the dark, dirty street near the dock. Diego had smoothed the way, contacting his task force coordinator at the FBI and making sure the NYPD hadn’t caught wind of the delivery.

  The bad guys win again.

  Several crates of weapons that had been brought in by boat were now disappearing by truck as the sun broke over the nearby buildings, turning the dusting of snow to chips of diamonds reflecting the light.

  “That couldn’t have gone better,” his liaison said. He handed Diego a wad of cash before striding off toward his car.

  Diego wanted to argue. It could have gone much better if he’d been able to get the name of the Circle’s main guy and bust this investigation wide open. Unfortunately, the multi-agency task force had been in place for years and weren’t ready to take the whole organization down yet.

  Diego jogged after his contact, who preferred to remain nameless. “Can I catch a ride with you? I wanted to check out the Brooklyn building.”

  “I told you I passed your message along.”

  “I just want to know what—someone—would find if they went digging there.”

  The guy squinted. “Sure. Hop in.”

  The sight of the building where he’d found Selina always turned his stomach. At least he’d been a part of ending that particular nightmare. The Cattle Call had ended. Still, there was an unlabeled white delivery truck parked outside the building when nobody should be here. The neighborhood was still quiet at this hour, but more lights were on. Most people in this crime-ridden area of Brooklyn kept to themselves, however, and the building the Circle rented was surrounded by vacant or repurposed old factory buildings.

  His liaison gestured to the truck. “Satisfied? They’re loading it today.”

  Sure enough, a man who was coatless despite the cold morning, his sweat-soaked shirt plastered to his body, wheeled out a filing cabinet on a dolly. It appeared Diego’s warning had been heeded. He squashed the guilt he felt that Becca would find nothing if she came here searching for answers, reminding himself how relieved he’d be when she left New York City in one piece. She was tenacious and would find answers elsewhere, outside of his turf.

  Diego nodded. “Satisfied. The boss won’t regret it.”

  “What made you think this building was at risk?”

  Diego had weighed the consequences of keeping the picture he’d received to himself, but his liaison could have valuable information. He pulled out the picture of the mystery woman. “I received this.”

  The other man’s eyebrows lifted. “A warning?”

  “I don’t know, but I figured it was worth mentioning.”

  He handed the picture back to Diego. “She wouldn’t have been from here, anyway. You needn’t have worried.”

  “What do you mean? She’s got the Circle’s mark. She’s part of the Cattle Call.”

  He pointed at the symbol. “The C in the middle indicates she was Chicago’s problem.”

  Diego squinted, just making out the C in the center of the circle on the woman’s arm. “She’s from Chicago?” Alarm welled up inside. That meant this could touch Becca’s investigation. What was she stumbling into?

  “Maybe, but they haven’t had a Cattle Call in years. That brand looks fresh. If this was taken recently, then either the Circle is starting up again there or someone’s copycatting.”

  Either option was bad.

  “Thanks for the info, anyway,” Diego said.

  “No problem. Just as long as you continue to keep the NYPD out of the loop.” With a sly grin, the other man left, not bothering to offer Diego a second ride.

  Saturday, 8:34 a.m.

  Manhattan

  “You’re sure about this?” Damian’s expression was doubtful.

  Becca let the waiter take away her nearly untouched plate. Her stomach had been tight since Diego abruptly took off. When the waiter left, she nodded in response to Damian, then followed it with a shake of her head indicating the opposite.

  Damian chuckled. “Well, as long as you’re in agreement.”

  “I don’t know what to think.” Or whom to trust. Despite her impeccable track record as a SSAM agent, she hadn’t always made the wisest decisions, especially about men. “All I know is that my source—”

  “Whom you believe is trustworthy,” Damian interrupted.

  “—who I deemed trustworthy, yes.” Selina was a victim, and Becca was certain she hadn’t made anything up. “My source named Diego, specifically, as a mole for the Circle.”

  “It sounds unbelievable.”

  She blew out a breath. “Thank you for that bit of validation, at least. Now, if I could just make sense of why his name would be connected that way...”

  “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “I tried.” Becca was still wondering if she should have run after Diego last night. It would have been a bad idea. He’d been furious—in a quiet, controlled way that chilled her to the marrow—when he’d walked out of her room. In his eyes, she’d seen sparks of anger and hurt...but not directed at the entire world this time. They were aimed solely at her.

  She feared he’d never forgive her. Which was ridiculous. Either he was guilty of working for the Circle and she didn’t want his forgiveness because she was going to have to take his ass down, or she didn’t care about him and didn’t need his forgiveness.

  So why did she feel like such a bitch?

  “I take it that didn’t go so well.” Damian’s frown was sympathetic.

  “He walked out. I don’t know what to do, sir. I have to stand across from him at the altar today and smile like the world is a beautiful place and love is possible.” All the while, she’d be wondering if Diego worked for the Circle. And he’d know it. He was too perceptive not to notice her distraction...or her doubts.

  “I can have SSAM resources check into a possible connection, but it might backfire and hurt his career.”

  She frowned. “I don’t want to do that, unless he deserves it.”

  “What does your gut tell you?”

  She was afraid her hunches were tainted by her heart’s desires. “Based on what I know of Diego from last summer? That there’s no way in hell Diego’s involved with the Circle. But he seems different.”

  “Losing someone you love does that to a person.” A shadow flitted through Damian’s eyes. “You find ways to move on. Ways to cope.”

  “What if his way to cope was working for the other side?”

  “What if there’s another explanation?”

  Becca sighed. “That’s what I’m hoping.”

  She couldn’t blame him for walking out on her last night. Regret had gnawed at her, keeping her awake until dawn cracked through the small gap in the blackout curtains. Something about the accusation against Diego didn’t ring true. At her core, she recognized he was a good man. He wouldn’t hurt anyone. And he certainly wouldn’t work for an organization like the Circle.

  So why hadn’t he stayed last night to fight for his honor?

  Maybe because he shouldn’t have to.

  She had difficulty trusting people. That much, she recognized. It required a gamble, and as with any bet, one had to be prepared to pay the price if one lost. But the payoff could be big. Maybe she should take a chance.

  “Give him a chance to explain, or find
another way to determine the truth,” Damian said. “A careful way. In the meantime, let me know if you hear anything else from the Fan. I’ve got Einstein trying to trace where the text came from.”

  “I’m not sure that’ll work. When I tried to text him back, it wouldn’t go through.”

  “Might have been a throwaway phone. Don’t block any numbers. Our Fan might try to reach you again on your cell phone.”

  Breakfast wrapped up and Becca went up to her room and retrieved her gun from the safe. Matt had plans to sightsee with Catherine today. Becca’s agenda included some sightseeing, too, but of a different sort. She only had today to track down the Brooklyn address Selina had given her. She glanced at the napkin she’d stashed in her purse, eyeing Diego’s name in Selina’s scrawl, beneath the address.

  She memorized the number and street, then balled it up and tossed it into the wastebasket. Having his name linked to that location seemed unfaithful. The man had her feelings twisted up like a complicated braid, one that gave her the mother of all headaches.

  It didn’t help that she still hadn’t heard back from Selina to make sure the woman was okay. Not that she’d expected to. Sometimes it took days to get a return email. The one bright light from her inability to sleep last night was that, on closer inspection of the photograph the SSAM Fan had sent, it was evident that the photo hadn’t been taken yesterday. There was no sign of sleet or wet streets. In fact, there had been a flowerbox on one window. So, while the SSAM Fan had known she’d be there, and that it had to do with the investigation into Samantha’s death, he might not have been there at the exact time Becca was meeting with Selina. Maybe he hadn’t seen the young woman, or followed her home, or harmed her in any way.

  So why did he care about that meeting? What was he trying to prove? That he could track her anywhere? But why?

  These questions hounded her as she stepped off the elevator and into the marbled lobby. And nearly plowed into a man.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, jumping back. But in doing so, the item in the man’s arms, which had become crushed to his chest when she’d plastered herself to him, succumbed to gravity. She caught his camera—an expensive-looking one, at that—just in the nick of time and handed it back to him.

  “No harm done.” He grinned good-naturedly and juggled his camera until he could hold out a hand to shake. “No need to burden your conscience. You must be with the wedding party?”

  “How’d you know?”

  Vanessa stepped away from the counter where she’d been talking with the concierge and joined them. Her smile was bright, her skin glowing. She was every bit the blushing bride-to-be.

  “Great timing,” Vanessa said. “I see you’ve met our photographer. I gave him an advance copy of the guest list.”

  Becca grinned at the man who was prematurely balding and rather frumpily dressed but had a pleasant demeanor. He seemed friendly, in an odd-duck kind of way. “I’m sure I’ll see you there tonight,” she said. “Excuse me...”

  “Wait.” Vanessa caught up to her a few feet later. “Are you meeting me and the girls at the salon?”

  “If I can’t make it, will it ruin your day?” Becca itched to follow this lead, but she was supposed to be there to support the bride, so that came first. Although since Vanessa’s mother had become a dragon about taking over all the planning, Becca had been informed that her official duties wouldn’t start until just before the six o’clock wedding.

  Vanessa tipped her head thoughtfully. “You’ve got that look.”

  “What look?”

  “Like you’ve got saving the world on your mind. Noah gets the same expression when he’s working a case. Is this about the work you were doing yesterday?”

  Becca pulled Vanessa even farther aside, out of the high-traffic area near the front doors. “I’m sorry, but there’s this lead, and today is my only chance...”

  Vanessa held up her hand. “Don’t worry about it. Just be safe, okay?”

  “Always. And I will make this up to you. Out of curiosity, what is Noah doing with the guys?” She could file the information away for later, in case she chose to seek Diego out for questioning...or apologies.

  “I didn’t ask, but they’re probably just hanging out somewhere, shooting pool, or hoops, or something. They don’t get to see each other much anymore, living so far apart.” Her gaze was speculative. “Are you and Diego reconnecting? I could find out where he’ll be today.”

  “No, don’t bother,” she hastened to say. The last thing she needed was Diego thinking she was looking for him. “I was just curious.”

  “Just be ready to leave for the church at five. Mother’s hired cars to transport the wedding party.”

  “I’ll be there.” That should give her plenty of time to investigate the building in Brooklyn.

  Saturday, 10:30 a.m.

  Manhattan

  Damian hadn’t eaten much breakfast during his meeting with Becca, both because he had a brunch to attend shortly after, and because he had no appetite. The restaurant Damian chose for brunch was a safe, neutral location—one that would subdue his ex-wife’s reaction to what he had to say. Priscilla would never permit a public display of emotion.

  “Glad you could make it.” He rose to kiss Priscilla’s cheek when she approached his table. His gaze swept over her in appreciation. She’d always been an elegant, charming woman.

  Her smile was hesitant. “I was surprised to get your call yesterday.” She sat in the chair he pulled out for her, then craned her neck to look up at him as he pushed her chair in again. “Are you healthy? Is anything wrong? You might as well tell me now rather than sugarcoat things with an expensive champagne brunch.”

  Her concern touched him, and he felt a stab of regret for the news he was going to have to break.

  “No, no. I’m fine.” He sat opposite her and the waiter automatically appeared to fill their water goblets and champagne flutes, informing them that the buffet was available whenever they were ready. Once that business was out of the way, Damian braced himself for what he knew would come.

  “Is there news about Samantha?” Her question was no less full of hope than it had been every time he’d seen her over the past twenty years. Admittedly, that had been less and less frequent, but they’d stayed in touch, talking at least a couple times a year. While she had relocated to New York City and started a new life, he’d stayed behind in Chicago to pursue resolution from their old one. At times, he’d been jealous of her resilience. Yet when he saw her, the same shadows of grief lurked in her eyes.

  They each missed their daughter in their own way.

  “When we talked last month,” she said, “you mentioned you might have a lead. You wouldn’t give me the details.”

  “I didn’t want you to be disappointed if it didn’t pan out.”

  “If? Does that mean...” She leaned forward, sucking in a breath just before the words rushed out in a whoosh. “Did you finally find Sam’s killer?”

  “Unfortunately, no.” And the investigation into whether the Circle had been involved could become a danger to his employee if he didn’t end the search. His body tensed at the thought of abandoning the best lead he’d had in years. The best in decades, in fact.

  Get your agent off the Circle case or someone will wind up dead.

  The email he’d received just an hour ago, after his breakfast with Becca, had been pithy and to the point. And enough to scare him. The threat indicated Becca could be on to something valuable in Sam’s case...or they could just be getting too close to something else the Circle was hiding. And it wasn’t signed by the SSAM Fan, which meant a couple of unknowns knew about Becca’s investigation. He needed to talk to her again about this, but she hadn’t been in her room so he’d left her a message on her cell.

  Though he wanted justice badly, if this threat turned out to be serious, he’d find another way—one that didn’t risk the life of one of his best agents. Becca was a living, breathing person and his daughter was, most likel
y, gone. He’d protect the person he still could.

  “Damian?” Priscilla asked, bringing his attention back to her. “Are you sure there’s nothing new? Why did you want to meet before the wedding? I would have seen you in a few hours.” Priscilla, a patron of the arts, had helped the bride during last summer’s investigation and was an invited guest.

  He drew in a breath and exhaled before continuing. “I had Samantha’s body exhumed.”

  Priscilla’s jaw dropped, but she promptly recovered, pressing her lips together with such force they turned white around the edges. He could sense the explosion building.

  “You what?” When she could finally speak, her words were a hiss of breath to avoid anyone nearby sensing her anger. But Damian felt the blast of it. “Can you even do that without my consent?” She laughed harshly. “Of course you can. You did.”

  “The lead I received...it indicated our daughter might not be dead. I used the information to petition the courts.” And he might have had a friend who served as judge to help push things through. “I would have told you, but I didn’t want to get you involved unless... I had to be sure.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes as her lips quivered. “Samantha might be alive? You didn’t think I’d want to know that?”

  “No, I didn’t. Because it would have meant getting your hopes up when the odds are against us getting our daughter back.” He sighed and reached for her trembling hand. It was a good sign that she let him take it. “I don’t think she’s alive, but I’m exhausting all the possibilities. I want to make sure we haven’t missed anything.”

  Her blue eyes, so like Samantha’s, blazed as they met his. “Was it our daughter’s body in that grave?”

  “I don’t know yet. They’re still doing an analysis. I wanted to tell you face-to-face while I had the chance. And they might need some information from you, possibly a sample of DNA. Right now, I have them comparing mine to the body.”

  “The body? God, you really do believe it might not be her, after all these years...”

  He could no longer protect her from hoping against hope that their daughter was alive. A year after Sam’s disappearance, the police had only recovered a skeleton and some clothing remnants that matched what Sam had been wearing when she disappeared. They’d used dental records to confirm her identity, but those could be faked, for a price.