Part 3 (2/2)
”Why don't we just ask him?”
Four heads swung in Will's direction.
”Why don't we ask him?” Will repeated.
”I doubt he's going to admit that he's part of a conspiracy to commit murder,” Jared said dryly.
”One of two things will happen.” Will's fingers were all now drumming on the table. ”He'll either tell us the truth, or he won't. Either way, he'll know that we know. It might be a deterrent, if in fact he was planning something.”
”Will has a point,” Anne Marie said. ”At the very least, he'll know that someone will be watching him. Of course, he won't tell the truth. . . .”
”Why not?” Will turned to her. ”Who is there for him to be afraid of? Channing's dead, and Giordano is back in prison, right?”
”He won't admit to the conspiracy.” Evan shook his head. ”He's out, he's going to want to stay out. Why should he implicate himself in anything?”
”Maybe, if he thought he could get immunity, he'd tell the truth,” Will suggested.
”I know this guy,” Evan told him. ”He'll smirk and he'll lie, but he'll never admit to knowing either of the others. As a matter of fact, he's already denied ever having met them. Believe me, I've asked.”
”What's his incentive?” Will persisted. ”There's no one to make him follow through.”
”We don't know what his intentions are,” Anne Marie agreed, ”but I think, knowing what we know, we have to proceed as if he is planning on playing this out. Several lives could be at stake.”
”Then we really have nothing to lose by confronting him.” Jared turned to Miranda. ”Since you were involved in the other two cases and know some of the players, I'd like you to take the lead here. Pay him a visit, have a little chat with him.”
”My pleasure.” Miranda smiled. She'd expected this.
”You, Fletcher.” Jared directed his gaze to the opposite side of the table. ”You'll go along. I want him to know that the Bureau is very, very serious about this. Two agents will make a stronger impression than one.”
”But what about Annie and Evan?” Miranda frowned. ”Evan's dealt with Lowell before, and Annie's insights into his personality would be invaluable. I'd think either of them would be better suited to the a.s.signment than Will.”
”Annie is headed back to Quantico for a lecture she's giving tomorrow, and Detective Crosby-who, may I remind you, does not work for the Bureau-is heading back to his cla.s.ses at the National Academy. John asked them here today strictly for their input.” Jared closed his folder and slipped it back into his briefcase. ”The case is all yours, Agent Cahill. Yours, and Agent Fletcher's. Visit Archer Lowell. Find out what he's up to. Put the fear of G.o.d into him. Any questions?”
He looked from Miranda to Will, then back again. They both shook their heads no. No questions.
”Good.” Jared grinned amicably as he stood. ”Now, let's see if I can find Mrs. Duffy. Anyone else want dessert?”
CHAPTER THREE.
”What a great way to start off a new week,” Miranda grumbled under her breath as she hung her clothes in the small closet of her room at the Fleming Inn. Just peachy.
Under ordinary circ.u.mstances, she'd live out of her suitcase rather than take time from a job to unpack. But these circ.u.mstances were not the norm, and she needed a little bit of a break between finding out with whom she'd been partnered on this a.s.signment, and actually forging ahead. It wasn't that she had doubts about Will's abilities. On the contrary, he had an unfailingly accurate mind for facts and dates. Unfailing, and highly annoying, as far as she was concerned. The man had a mind like a steel trap. He never forgot a d.a.m.ned thing.
Except the things that might have mattered most.
”Might have is the key here,” she murmured to herself. ”Apparently, some things mattered only to me.” have is the key here,” she murmured to herself. ”Apparently, some things mattered only to me.”
Let it go. That was then; this is now. You're a professional. He's a professional. You have a job to do. Several innocent lives may very well depend on how well you do it.
”Right,” she muttered aloud as she debated a change in clothing. The red jacket and short black skirt had been fine for the meeting, but now she was going into the field. She decided to change.
”Absolutely right. Focus on Will Fletcher, federal agent, and stuff Will Fletcher, the man I once thought I was in love with, into some dark, subterranean place where he belongs.”
She traded the short skirt for tailored black pants, the white sweater for a crisp white s.h.i.+rt, all the while mentally toying with the image of Will Fletcher being physically stuffed into a dark place. Dark and dank. One filled with spiders.
Picturing Will with big black spiders crawling on him somehow cheered her.
”There. I feel better already.” She switched jackets and closed the closet door.
She turned off the light and left the room, her leather bag swinging from her right shoulder, her key chain in her hand. She marched down the steps to the first floor.
”Well, you're in a better frame of mind,” Will observed from the bottom of the steps, where he leaned upon the newel post.
”Must have been the chocolate mousse.”
”I must say I'm a bit disappointed, Cahill.” He eyed her as they went out the front door.
”Oh? In what?”
”In the wardrobe change. How many of those black suits do you own, anyway?”
”I have closets full of boring black suits, Fletcher.”
”Seriously, what's with that?”
”When I'm in the field, I want to fade as much into the background as possible. I don't want my clothes to be an issue.”
”Well, I hate to be the one to break it to you, Cahill, but it would take a h.e.l.l of a lot more than a black suit for you to fade into the background.” He glanced at her sideways, saw her jaw clench.
”Thank you. I think.” She s.h.i.+fted her bag a little higher on her shoulder. ”Can we get back to the case now?”
”Whatever you say. You ready to take on old Archer?”
”Piece o' cake.” She walked past him and took the path that forked to the right.
”My car is over here.” He stopped midway down the walk.
”Well, mine is over here.” She called back without turning around. ”Don't make me remind you who is the lead on this case.”
”That ent.i.tles you to drive?”
”Absolutely.”
”Do I have to ride with you in that?”
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