Us.
“Why?”
“Elissa found your mystery man.”
Maren had beenin Watchdog’s buildings a few times—the lobby, the kennels, and a back office where Nettie had transformed her into someone unrecognizable. But she’d never sat in this conference room. It wasn’t the one near the front where she imagined they met with new clients. This one was tucked away, soundproofed—she was sure of it—and no windows. The room screamedtop secret information discussed here.
Kyle was at the head of the table, Lachlan to his left, Gina standing against the back wall. Flint was there with his computer and Elissa was on a screen this time instead of just over a speakerphone. She was exactly how Maren had pictured her—blonde, tanned, with eyes that shone with intelligence and mischief equally. But she looked like she’d been up all night, which she probably had been. Charlie and Mac sat across from each other. Charlie gave her a warm, sympathetic smile andMaren was grateful for it. Mac had cut his time off short, and Maren was grateful for that, too.
Colin pulled out a chair for Maren and sat beside her. He pressed his knee against hers under the table, a quiet reassurance that he had her back.
But by now, she knew every person in this room did, too. She felt it down in her bones. And she was filled with love and gratitude.
“Elissa,” Kyle said. “Go ahead.”
“First, I’d say it’s nice to put a face to the super awesome woman we’re helping out,” Elissa said, “but I’ve been looking at your sister’s photos and you are absolutely identical. Anyway, welcome to the family, Maren.”
Maren swallowed around a lump in her throat. “Thanks, Elissa. That means a lot.” She gave her a soft smile that Elissa returned.
“All right, now down to business.” Elissa’s face disappeared as she shared her screen. She opened a file and the photo of a man came up, one that looked like it had been taken for an ID badge. He had neatly trimmed dark hair, olive skin, and the barest five-o’clock shadow. He looked like he was in his late forties, maybe early fifties judging by the gray hairs threading the dark. He was handsome, his eyes steady and faintly kind.
“Raymond Castillo.” Elissa’s voice held a degree of sadness. “He was a John Doe brought in to the San Diego County Medical Examiner’s office yesterday morning. Signs of blunt force trauma. The official ruling is acute opioid toxicity, manner of death accidental. He…” Elissa paused, and Maren could hear her swallow hard. “He’s been dead for a while.”
Maren covered her mouth and blinked back tears.
Elissa cleared her throat. “He was found in an abandoned building by some urb-exers?—”
“Urb-exers?” Lachlan asked.
“Sorry, urban explorers. People who sneak into abandoned buildings and explore them like caves. A couple of guys in their early twenties were recording themselves inside an abandoned department store in a sketchy neighborhood, when they smelled something super wrong. Sorry, again.”
Elissa continued. “John Doe’s dental records pinged a database and he was ID’ed as Raymond “Ray” Castillo. He wasn’t with LRH. He’s a former NCIS special agent. Disciplinary actions were taken against him—coincidentally, yeah,not—around the same time that Mira was killed, followed by an ugly dismissal from the agency, the details of which are pretty buried, surprise. The ME’s office already closed the case, which is pretty damned quick if you ask me. Nobody pushed back.”
“Because nobody ‘cared’ to push back,” Gina said, sarcasm lacing her voice.
“Right.” Elissa sounded bitter. “Until I went looking.”
Maren stared at the face on the screen. Ray Castillo. The man on the recording.Your sister was brave and she loved you and her daughter more than anything…I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.His voice was burned into her brain. She felt like she knew him.
Had he been dead before she’d ever heard his voice?
“They staged it carefully,” Colin said. It wasn’t a question.
“Sure did,” Flint confirmed. “Whoever did this knows how a scene gets read and what gets glossed over. The opioids in his system were consistent with the narrative they built around him. A disgraced agent takes up a drug habit, frequents a bad part of town to get his fix. His wallet’s gone, so the beating’s chalked up to a mugging or a deal gone wrong.” He paused. “This wasn’t improvised.”
Maren thought about Mira, abouther‘accident.’
“Can we take it to the police?” she asked. She already knew the answer.
Gina approached the table. “Here’s the problem. We can’t prove murder. The staging is clean enough that any challenge gets written off, at best. At worst, we tip our hand to someone who’s trying to get to you and has demonstrated they are not squeamish about removing problems.” She held Maren’s gaze. “If we go to official channels now, we warn them we’re on to them, and we put an even bigger bullseye on your back.”
Maren nodded. She’d expected that. It still landed like a fist.
“There’s more,” Elissa said.
Ray disappeared as she pulled up another file. Another photograph, but this time not an ID or anything official-looking. A company event; holiday party, maybe, or a birthday. People in business casual, drinks in hand, wearing the telltale stiff smiles of colleagues pretending to like each other.
And there was Mira.
