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“I’m insulted!” The voice came directly from the typing man as he stopped all work and glared into the screen directly in front of me. It was Jack Kasey. I let out a laugh and shook my head despite myself.
“Sorry Jack, I haven’t been able to put a face to the ever present voice scaring me.” Honestly, I’d not pictured the voice belonging to the man I was seeing. I had honestly thought Jack would be middle-aged and hunched over the computer all the time, three day old pizza stains on his shirt and surrounded by junk food. Not by his voice exactly, but how he was described by everyone else. This man was in his thirties with disheveled chestnut brown hair. His amber eyes shone bright as he dramatically leaned his face into his computer’s camera to imitate inspecting me. With a cut jaw and sharp nose, he had the same model looks as the other owners, and I wondered once again if these men had been created in a lab.
“If you’re ready to get back to work, Kasey,” Aiden said with a weary sigh. “Can you bring up that list of enemies Eagle had sent?”
Immediately, the screen under the one that had been showing me the fourth owner of Remington Security lit up and a document was ready. Instead of taking a seat, I turned my attention back to Aiden.
“I’m guessing Eagle is my father’s code name? Original,” I offered with a wry smile.
Aiden gave me a dazzling smile of his own. “That’s what happens when Jack gets to pick.”
“Hey, my code names are amazing. Lake, ask me what your code name is. Go on, ask.”
Fighting back a laugh, I scrubbed my face of all emotion and as uninterested as I could, asked. “What’s my code name?”
“Minx!”
And the laughter finally escaped me, not just at the ridiculous code name but the pride on his face as he announced it. Jack actually thought the names were clever, and, for that, he was one in a million. How this absent man could bring me to actual laughter during a time that should have had me damn near catatonic was a mystery, but I welcomed the flood of amusement where I could get it.
“Alright, enough Kasey. Lake, could you go through this list and let us know if there is anyone we should focus on more or even if there are people left off. Also, go ahead and start compiling your own list of potential enemies. We need everything from a high school nemesis to a disgruntled employee. No names left out.” Aiden pulled the rolling desk chair out for me and I sat, frowning.
“I can try to make a list for myself, but I don’t know how much help I’ll be with my father’s list. We don’t exactly talk about personal or business problems. Hell, we don’t really talk past flinging verbal grenades at each other. I,” I almost choked on my next words and had to take a steading breath, “I don’t really know him, honestly.”
He gave me a sympathetic smile that harbored no pity, for which I was grateful. “Do your best. Look at the names on it and see if anything comes to you, okay?”
I held his eyes with mine for a moment longer before giving a stiff but resolute nod. “Okay.”
CHAPTER 12
DECKER
Ipaced the length of the driveway leading to the garage to the right of the mansion. According to Kasey the mansion had at one time been the guest house attached to the estate that the Harringtons owned. Long before the former senator had purchased the property for his family to vacation, the guest house had been completely rebuilt and a two acre portion of the land on which it sat had been sold.
Now I was standing in front of the six bedroom mansion pretending to be a guest house, waiting for the sweep to be completed and hoping I would be allowed in. With so many federal and state agencies on the grounds now too, I wasn’t too sure I’d be able to swing a walk-through. Whoever had been here was most likely gone, knowing once the message had been sent, the security team would have been looking all over the nearby properties, but I was still kicking myself on how someone could have gotten past us on the one road that was heavily secured.
“Mullins!” I recognized the deep voice barking out my name and let a sigh of relief pass my lips before I turned around showing nothing but mild interest at the federal agent walking toward me. Malcolm Echolls had been an acquaintance and friend for years, and at times an asset to my work when I needed smoother lines of communication in my job. I’d found that my profession could occasionally piss off some law enforcement by job alone, but I’d always been the consummate professional, and it had bought me quite a few connections over the years. Malcolm Echolls was one of those connections.
“Mal, I didn’t know you were in New York. What happened to Georgia?” Normally I would have jumped right into questions about evidence in the home, but I needed to take the softer approach and I knew it. That meant useless small talk when all I could think about was getting into that house.
“Transferred to be closer to my kids.” The barrel chested agent gave a brief nod to a local police officer as he came toe to toe with me in front of the closed garage. Echolls stood quite a few inches below me, but with his presence alone, he filled space. “Not that you give a single fuck about why I’m here. The question foryouis, what’s going on?”
“I’d have figured you’d already have that information. Is the house clear?” My attention turned back to pacing, and, as I hit the bottom of the driveway, I glanced back at the large L-shaped building.
“Your client, Robert Harrington, is being threatened, possibly by a terrorist organization, but you don’t think so. His daughter is staying in the place next door and someone has been watching her.” He let out an unamused chuckle. “I’m trying to follow the bouncing ball here, man, give me something to actually sink my teeth into.”
I turned and faced him head on. Echolls wasn’t backing down, and it finally registered that I wasn’t getting an inch of leeway to search the house unless I started talking. Still calm and indifferent, I raised a shoulder of surrender. “Lake Harrington could possibly be the real target. So far the only blatant attempts to show power or authority have been in regards to her. A tail when we were heading out here. Now a text about watching her. Not to mention the fact that no one seems to know what happened to the actual homeowners after they left their ranch to come out here on a yearly scheduled holiday.”
“Agent Echolls,” a young black man in a suit denoting his status as another federal agent, came jogging down the path from the front entrance of the house to the driveway where Echolls and I stood. “House is clear, no signs that anyone has been here other than the lack of dust and the roof.”
I looked at Echolls for a long moment before the agent threw out his hands in a “fine” gesture and shook his head. “Let’s go Mullins. Let’s see if you notice anything off.”
“The K-9 unit is almost here to search the property, I’ll let you know when they’ve arrived.” The junior agent was off again, and Echolls and I made our way to the house stopping only to tug plastic booties over our shoes.
As we entered the double doors at the front of the house, I stopped to take the place in. There was a distinct stillness about the house that wasn’t shaken in the least by the countless other law enforcement officials moving in and out of rooms. Instinct told me that we would find the Pasternaks, and I’d have to inform Lake that her house was no longer as safe as we’d believed. The faint smell of bleach lingered as we walked through the halls leading to stairs and closer to the roof.
“If there were a way to get the smell of bleach admitted as evidence, the world would be a better place. I’ve never gone into a scene with bleach in the air and not had a crime attached,” Echolls grumbled as we ascended the stairs and stepped out on the second floor balcony. A ladder sat propped against the house leading to the roof and I shot a look back toward the Harrington’s estate in an attempt to see if this ladder could have been seen from our security point. Nope, not a single camera angle was positioned in a way to show us this angle, and I was positive that the house itself was hidden from view when patrolling the property.
Echolls gestured for me to go up first and by the time we were both up on the angled roof, the agent was huffing and red-faced glaring at me while my face and breathing remained unchanged. “I forgot you’re a damn robot,” the smaller man grumbled as we made our way over to a section of the roof that had been crowded by techs. Blinking back the spots from the flashing of a camera in the waning light, I froze when my eyes fell on what was being processed as evidence. A single .308 caliber rifle cartridge sat straight up on the ledge facing the cut branches and the perfect line of sight to the pool in the distance.
