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“He wanted proof.” Regan turned the new information over in her head. “He had some of the information, but we have more. Grant has the rest of it. He knows. And he ran instead of telling me.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Find him. Can you put Jenna into protective custody?”
Charlie nodded. “I’ll bring them to a safe house in Alexandria. Then I’ll talk to Lillian O’Dare. Find out what the hell is going on—not just with the Valera arrest, but the fact that a caller’s information got out of the building. They have a leak—a major leak—and they need to plug it now. Hopefully, they’ll be able to trace it and find the mole.”
Regan and Charlie walked back into the hotel room. Jenna had her head on Lance’s shoulder, and practically jumped up as if they’d been caught in a compromising position.
“What’s happening? Can I go home?”
“I’d like to bring you back to Alexandria for a few days,” Charlie said. “Put you in a safe house for the weekend while we follow up on the two fake FBI agents. You could go home, and I would contact the local police to have them keep an eye out for you, but it wouldn’t be 24/7. The safe house is near our headquarters, in a secure building. You won’t need a marshal on-site, but we can be there quickly. We have some rules for your safety, but there’s a television, cable, lots of movies and books and games. It’s not the Ritz, but it’s a nice enough place. There’s an approved list of places you can call for delivery—places we vet regularly. Ultimately, though, it’s your choice.”
Jenna looked at Lance. “I can’t ask you to take the weekend off.”
“You don’t have to ask. I’m doing it. Until we figure out what’s going on, and know that you’ll be safe, I’m not leaving.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. She turned to Charlie and Regan. “Thank you.”
“How fast can you pack up here?”
“Five minutes. I only have an overnight bag, then need to check out.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Charlie said. “Regan, you good here?”
Regan nodded. She itched to look for Grant—but first things first. Get Jenna Johns safe, then find her ex.
She had two ideas where he might be, but she needed to do some research to make sure the property was still in his family. She’d leave first thing in the morning—before dawn.
The faster she found Grant, the faster she’d have the final piece of the puzzle. And then—maybe—she’d get justice for Tommy.
And Chase.
Thirty-Seven
Franklin Archer canceled all his appointments after Regan Merritt left his office.
If she found Grant first, he would tell her everything he knew. If Regan had half a brain—and she did—she’d know how to put all the information together, there was no doubt in his mind. And then he would be ruined.
Franklin was stuck. And scared—though he shouldn’t be. As he’d told Grant last night, mutually assured destruction meant that he was safe. Except that tickle of fear that he may have been overconfident.
Brock Marsh should have handled the problems before everything got out of control!
Madeline was dead...and that meant that his client had taken matters into his own hands. It meant that his client didn’t trust him to keep his people quiet. He had Madeline killed and Grant would be next.
What did that mean for Franklin?
He needed to run.
Just like he told Grant to do.
No. You can’t run. You have the law firm. Your wife, your daughters.
A chill ran down his spine.
He called Isabelle on his private cell phone in his private bathroom. He knew Grant’s office was bugged—he’d had it bugged, because he needed to know how much Grant knew and what he’d been telling that damn marshal. But what if his client hadhisoffice bugged? What if they were listening to his conversations?
“Honey, I hit a snag here at the office, and I need you to take the girls out of town for a while.”
