Likely Suspects (19 page)

“God
dammit.” I was going to need years of therapy after this job. Martin could make me spin in circles in a matter of seconds. “What is it that you want from me?” I watched his face carefully, and I realized he didn’t know.

He
hit the door unlock, letting go of my arm. “We’re still fighting over who gets to lead.” He sighed and leaned back against the headrest.

I slump
ed back in my seat, and we both stared at the garage wall. “You can’t take anything I say or do personally,” I spoke deliberately, trying to find the proper diplomatic terms. “If I have to dig into your private life and throw accusations at people you know and like, it’s just my job.” Maybe I could make some type of concession. “If you can understand that and respect it, I’ll keep you informed of everything as it happens.” Shifting in my seat, I was surprised to see him already turned toward me.

“I guess that’
s fair.” The seriousness began to ebb as he adopted a slightly devilish grin. “But when you say I can’t take the things you do personally, is that supposed to mean you had to stage that bit of intimacy last night in the car and upstairs? Because I’m pretty sure there wasn’t anyone snooping around my house you needed to continue the charade for.”

I rolle
d my eyes. “If you would prefer no physical contact whatsoever, that can be arranged.” I couldn’t believe he was bringing up yesterday.

“Th
at’s not what I’m saying at all.” He leaned closer and caught my chin between his thumb and forefinger. I was about to pull away and protest, but he was quicker than I expected.  He kissed me. For a moment, nothing else existed, but then reality set in. I pulled back, pressing my lips firmly together.

“
No. You’re my boss.” I opened the car door. “I have a job to do. We don’t need any other complications.” I got out of the car and headed for the steps.

“Alex, w
ait.” Pausing for a split second, I shut my eyes, resisting the urge to turn around or respond to him, before continuing up the stairs.

I went back to the laundry room and busied myself with putting my clothes in the dryer. Things were already complicated enough. I let them get this way. I should have set down some ground rules from the first day. In all honesty, perhaps I hadn’t wanted to, but I never expected things to spiral in this direction.

“I’m sorry.
” Martin was standing in the doorway. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I remained silent, hoping he’d just walk away. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.” He wasn’t taking the hint. 

“It’s okay.
” Shoving my clothes in the dryer, I was positive he was still standing in the doorway. I pulled a dryer sheet from the box and tossed it in, slamming the dryer door. When I turned around, he was blocking the exit.

“Y
ou have to push the button to turn it on.” He pointed to the start button on the dryer.

“Oh.
” I was embarrassed. I hit the button and turned to leave. Either the room had just gotten smaller or he had moved closer.

“I’m not used to having anyone around this much.
Maybe I misinterpreted, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. Can we at least be friends?” he asked. He obviously had the mentality of a teenage boy when it came to relationships with the opposite sex. This surprised me, given how suave and calculating he always seemed. 

“I didn’t realize
we were friends before,” I joked. “But I guess I can manage that.”

He
was pleased and left the room. Sighing, I collapsed against the washing machine and rubbed the bridge of my nose. I needed a break. I found my phone and called Mark, begging him to come by as soon as he got off work.

A couple of hours later
, he arrived at Martin’s compound, a couple boxes of pizza in hand. The three of us sat around the kitchen table, eating and discussing everything that occurred today.

“D
o you think Griffin’s been calling?” Mark asked, pulling another slice of pizza from the box. I shrugged. “Come on, I know you. You’ve got instincts about this stuff.” He was trying to get an answer out of me.

“I don’t think so.
” I had given this quite a bit of thought since I had stayed in my room until he arrived, trying to avoid the awkwardness with Martin. “Why would she have answered the phone?”

“Did she know it was you?” Mark asked.

“Not at first.” I pondered this and cast a sideways glance at Martin. “Do they have caller IDs on the office phones?” I couldn’t look at him.

“N
ot that I’m aware of.” Martin grabbed a beer from the fridge, and Mark gave me a strange look. I pretended not to notice.

“M
aybe since she didn’t know it was me, she answered,” I was backtracking, “and she was the blocked caller.” It still didn’t feel right, but I didn’t know why.

“What was the point of calling at all?”
Mark was playing devil’s advocate.

“Hell if I know.
” That was basically my answer for everything. 

“There has to be a reason.
” Mark leaned back in the chair. “Marty, any ideas?”

Martin
took a long pull on his beer. He put the bottle down and thought for a moment. “Nope.”

“Really insightful,” I quipped, and Martin
smirked. The cold war might just be coming to an end.

“Don’t you know it,” he teased.
I laughed, despite myself, and Mark looked at the two of us like we were lunatics.

“What the hell is wrong with both of you?” Mark asked, probably believing we needed to be committed.

“Not a thing,” I replied, clearing the table. Mark was confused, but I was just glad the awkwardness had passed.  Maybe now, things would return to normal. Well, normal as in more threats, mortal danger, and having no fucking idea where to even begin. “Any word on the plant footage?” I asked Mark.

“I’ve got my tech guys working on it.
The earliest we’ll know anything will be tomorrow, but it could take longer.” I sighed. Computers were great tools, but sometimes they were infuriatingly slow. Martin left the two of us in the kitchen, and Mark glanced into the living room. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.
Why?” I dried the dishes.

“You call
begging that I come by and then that exchange at dinner.” He scrutinized my expression.

“There was a momen
t,” I admitted in a hushed tone. “It’s over, thank god.”

“A moment?”
He could be such a guy sometimes.

“Let it go.
It’s been an incredibly long, stressful day.” It was my turn to check to make sure Martin wasn’t coming back. “Did you know he and Griffin had a one night stand?”

“
No shit.” Mark was astounded. “When?” We were gossiping.

“Five years ago.
The whole thing is a very sore subject. Needless to say, he wasn’t pleased with my accusations against her.”

“She
must be at least twenty years older than he is. No wonder he doesn’t want to talk about it. She sounds like one of those cougars.” Mark’s assessment was amusing. “Just do your job, and don’t worry about all that. Marty’s a smart guy. He’ll want this stopped regardless of personal feelings.”

“I know.”
Martin was coming back into the living room, so I changed the subject. “We know the blocked calls were from the MT building, and the photos were sent from a burner cell. Any way it could be the same person?”

Mark thought about this for a
moment. “Anything’s possible.”

“What
’s possible?” Martin asked, entering the kitchen with a stack of papers and a laptop.

“Maybe my
mystery caller and your unidentified photographer are one in the same,” I replied. It was just another theory, but it couldn’t hurt. Plus, it made me feel better to think there might be one less psychopath trying to get to him or us.

“Could be,” Martin said.
He opened the laptop and began clicking a few keys.

Mark sat
across from him. “What are we looking at, Marty?” he asked, turning the computer slightly so he could see the screen.

Martin clicked a few buttons and turned the scree
n completely around. “I’ve got some new software, thought it might come in handy.” He clicked another button.

“Damn.
” Mark was practically speechless, so I went to see what was so impressive. On the screen were the photos, except Martin had modified them in some manner. There was an obvious reflection from the windows of the coffee shop. “I should have had my guys go over this, too.”

“Don’t worry about it.
I just asked you to run a trace.” Martin seemed proud of himself. “Plus, this is top of the line. I doubt any of your people have this software yet.”

“Could you do anything about the grainy video
footage with this?” I asked, recalling our earlier issues of the janitor, the mystery shoebox, and the plant saboteur, but Martin shook his head.

“Tried, but it didn’t work.
The images are too small and low-res. It only works with stills, and freezing the feed just made it worse,” Martin tried to explain, but I dismissed his excuses as I realized what we were looking at.

“
Would anyone like to explain why Todd Jackson is standing across the street from the coffee shop, holding up his phone like he’s taking a picture?” I asked the room.

“Probably because he is,” Martin surmised.
I searched his face; he looked betrayed. The pieces were starting to fall into place.

“He’s security.
He has access to all the offices. He works night shift. He knows what footage we’ve seen and what we haven’t. He was working Saturday morning.” I stopped and looked up at Martin. “He wasn’t wearing a name badge. That’s why I didn’t know his name.”

“What?” Mark and Martin asked simultaneously.
I shook my head, trying to make sense of the jumble of thoughts.

“Remember, I asked what his name was.
I didn’t see his name badge.”

“We can get him for
more than breaking dress code,” Mark retorted.

“No.
I mean yes, but what if he didn’t bother to put on the badge because he didn’t want to be identified on camera.” No one was following my thought process. I wasn’t sure I was following it entirely either. “The guy that broke into my office dressed like a janitor.” I was trying to go from point A to point B. Luckily, Martin caught on.

“You think it was Todd, and that’s why he didn’t have the badge on.
He didn’t want to get caught on camera with the badge clipped to his collar because it might have been seen under the janitor’s uniform.” Martin was filling in the blanks.

“Hang on,” Mark was catching on but
was still unsure of my assumptions, “we have no proof.”

“He had the keys to the offi
ces which are kept in security.” I was trying to make the facts fit.

“Are you sure?”
Mark wasn’t buying it.

“I don’t know.
Most likely since the door wasn’t picked.”

Martin minimized the computer window and logged into th
e MT website. He accessed the employee schedules. “Todd Jackson worked Friday night into Saturday morning. He was scheduled to work two a.m. to two p.m. Saturday,” Martin informed us.

This was
the break we needed. Todd was in the building when the break-in occurred. He had given me access to the footage after he had the chance to view it and make sure it wasn’t incriminating, and he was the mystery photographer.

“I’m
going to give O’Connell a call.” Mark stood up. “At the very least, we’ve got him for stalking.”

“Why didn’t you show me this sooner?” I asked Martin.

“I was just playing around with it before
Jabber got here. The program was running while we were eating. It just finished when I brought it in here.” Martin smiled. “Do you think this is almost over?” He was excited by the prospect.

“Too soon to tell.
” I wasn’t jumping on the optimism bandwagon just yet. There were too many unknowns and much too much speculation on my part. The only thing we could prove was Todd had been standing outside the coffee shop, looking suspicious. Maybe he was just making a phone call.

Mark returned
. “I’m meeting O’Connell at the precinct. He’s going to bring Mr. Jackson in as a potential witness and see if he can shake something more substantial loose.” He looked at Martin. “I need your phone and printouts of the enhanced images. O’Connell might need you to come to the station, depending on how things go.” Martin hit the print button and handed his phone to Mark. “I’ll give you a call,” Mark told me, “if we need Martin to answer some questions. O’Connell doesn’t know what he has yet, but he might need a statement from you too. Stay by the phone until then.”

“You got it.”
Martin put the printouts in a manila envelope and gave them to Mark. He was absolutely giddy.