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The two men sat across from each other in the private room, their conversation low and intense.
“They’re trying to tap into the FBI’s resources now,” one of them said.
“I know. And we can’t let that happen.” The second man slammed his fist on the table. “What the hell does it take to scare these pain-in-the-ass investigators off?”
“We haven’t found it yet,” the first man replied. “But we will.”
Fallujah, Iraq
The trip had been arduous—and it still wasn’t over.
He’d caught the first flight to Ali Al Salem Airbase in Kuwait City, where he’d taken a military transport to Baghdad. If he was being stationed at the New Embassy Compound, it would be fairly simple, assuming the daily threat condition was in his favor. But he was heading out of Baghdad, traveling to Fallujah and one of the forward operating bases. Ground transportation was an impossibility. He would have to rely on military transport by helicopter. And who the hell knew when that could be arranged? Between the sandstorms that shut them down, the limited seating and the erratic schedule, it could be days before he traveled the ten fucking miles to his destination.
The urgency for this had been off-the-charts, and unnecessary.
Something was going on.
He just wasn’t sure what.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Claire had the oddest feeling.
And it wasn’t a happy one.
It was one of deception. And the deception was happening within the tight circle of Forensic Instincts.
She paced around her apartment as long as she could. She had to share this with someone. But who?
Ryan.
She had no idea why his name popped into her head. She could just as easily have talked to Casey or Marc or Patrick. But, for some reason, she knew the one to talk to was Ryan. The aura of deceit didn’t come from him. It was elsewhere, cloudy, but real. But Ryan’s aura was clear.
They’d probably argue. But she had to take a chance.
She pressed his number on speed dial.
“Hey, Claire-voyant, what’s up?” He sounded preoccupied.
“Are you back in the office?” she asked.
“Nope. In the car. Why?”
Instead of an answer, Claire asked another question. “In the car—where?”
“On the way back to the city with Marc.” He sounded more attentive now. “Is there a problem?”
“I’m not sure. I’m also not sure why I called you about it. But would it be possible for Marc to drop you off at my place?”
“Now that sounds intriguing.” The familiar teasing note was back in his voice.
“It is. But not for the reasons you mean.” Claire didn’t banter back the way she normally would. She was too preoccupied.
A slight pause. “Sure. We’re almost home anyway. And I’ve been working since we left Westhampton Beach. I can take a milk-and-cookies break.”
“I have soy milk and organic wafer cookies. I also have full leaf tea and three different kinds of all-natural juice.”
“How will I choose?” Ryan asked wryly. “How about a Blue Moon?”
