Colby Velocity. Debra WebbЧитать онлайн книгу.
not to mention stupid,” she glanced knowingly at Rocky, “for either one of them to be the one we’re looking for. But, like the senator, they will be privy to rumors, incidents, that we need to know that might propel our investigation in the proper direction.”
Rocky hadn’t thought of it until now but he wondered if a lack of a real social life was a lingering side effect of D.C. politics. According to the dossier, Sayar had no notable social life. Rocky opted to ask about that later. To ask now might back up any suspicions she had about catching him staring at her. Every time he had the opportunity to study her he noticed something new.
Like the small sprinkling of freckles across her nose. He’d never noticed that before. Then again, he’d never sat this close to her in a confined space for this length of time. When she smiled, those extra full lips revealed gleaming white teeth that were far from perfectly straight. Just a little crooked. Just enough to give her smile special character.
He liked that about her. Gorgeous but not too perfect.
He seemed to like a lot of things about her.
“Did you have suggestions on where to begin?”
It wasn’t until she asked the question that he realized she was openly watching him stare at her. He swallowed. Told himself to say something. “We should, of course, check out his residence. Often when someone feels cornered or afraid, he or she will hide information in a safe place in hopes of keeping a secret.” He didn’t look away when he ran out of logical suggestions. No point pretending he hadn’t been staring. She’d caught him red-handed. Twice now.
“We’ll go there tonight when the police have finished their investigation,” she agreed. “The property will assuredly still be a crime scene, but hopefully the police will choose not to post a guard once their techs are finished.”
“They’ll take his computer.” Rocky was a whiz with computers, but the chances of the cops leaving that behind were slim to none.
“They will,” Kendra echoed. She relaxed in the seat, turning her attention front and center once more. “But they don’t know about Yoni’s backup drive or where he keeps it hidden.”
Now that was a stroke of luck. “You obviously do.”
“I definitely do.” She shot Rocky a triumphant smile. “He recently moved it, but he gave me the location last night. Just in case.”
“He was aware on some level that the threat might go beyond a reputation assassination?” In Rocky’s opinion the idea that the victim felt he was in physical danger put a slightly different slant on the case.
“He didn’t say as much, but I got that impression. Yoni wasn’t one to break protocol. He played by the rules.” She gave Rocky another of those pointed looks. “All the rules.”
Rocky studied her eyes, the certainty there, and the determined set of her jaw. “Once in a great while a true innocent is mowed down in a scenario like this, but only once in a great while. I’d wager your friend has at least one secret that’ll surprise you.” He didn’t have to spell out the glaring fact that Sayar did not want to go to the police.
Another of those long, awkward pauses lapsed with her staring directly into his eyes.
“Maybe,” she admitted.
“If I’m right, you owe me lunch.” A long-awaited lunch, he didn’t mention.
Her assessing gaze narrowed slightly. “You’re on.”
He grinned, leaned into the headrest. Lunch was a given. Rocky had never met a man or woman, dead or alive, who didn’t have at least one secret. Yoni Sayar surely had his.
“If you’re wrong,” Kendra said, cutting into his victorious musing, “you have to wear a suit to the office every day for a week.”
Surprised, he looked her straight in the eye. “Something wrong with what I wear?” He was a jeans and boots kind of guy. Sure he wore the requisite button-down shirt and sports jacket, but never suits. Well, almost never. Occasionally he had no choice.
She shook her head. “Nothing a little polish and silk won’t take care of.”
“Ha-ha.” He pretended to be annoyed but deep down he was kind of happy that she’d bothered to observe what he wore. She sure hadn’t given the first indication that she’d looked at him long enough to notice. “Nice to know you care.”
“Appearances are everything, Rocky,” she said, surveying the entrance to the airfield as the driver made the turn. “At the Colby Agency appearances are extremely important.”
His anticipation flattened. Her attention was related to business.
Like always.
Chapter Three
Washington, D.C., Capitol Hill Diner, 1:55 p.m.
Kendra waited through the lengthy hold. When Castille’s secretary returned to the line, Kendra didn’t give her time to pass along the no she knew the senator had likely given. “I have to talk to him, Jean. It’s urgent, as I’m sure you know.”
Rocky lounged on the other side of the booth they’d claimed once the lunch crowd started to dwindle, his expression resigned to the idea that she was butting her head against a brick wall. But he had to hand it to her; she didn’t give up easily.
“Kendra, I wish I could help you,” Jean offered, her voice hushed. She wouldn’t want to be overheard consorting with the enemy.
“I understand that an appointment is out of the question,” Kendra put in before the woman who’d worked with the senator his entire senatorial career could continue, “but if you can give me some hint of his schedule for this afternoon I’ll catch him on the run.” Kendra had some idea of Castille’s daily agenda. Two years as his personal aide had provided significant insight into his usual activities. But it had been three years.
Things changed. So did people.
“What about his three o’clock at the club?” she prodded. During Kendra’s tenure as his aide, Castille hadn’t missed a Wednesday afternoon sit-down with the boys at the club. The Summit catered to high-level D.C. politicians and businessmen, providing classic luxury along with a three hundred percent markup on beverages. Membership was required for entrance, but the sidewalk outside was fair game as long as one wasn’t a reporter. If any of the old staff remained, she might just get inside. But she wasn’t betting on it.
“I can’t confirm that he’ll make that standing appointment today, considering what’s happened,” Jean advised, her tone somber.
That was all Kendra needed. “Thanks, Jean. I owe you.” Kendra closed her cell phone and gazed triumphantly at the man waiting across the table. “I can catch him around three.” The club was barely twenty minutes away. Arriving ahead of schedule wouldn’t be a problem. In fact, it might work to her advantage.
“I’m impressed. The secretary must remember you more fondly than her boss does.”
Jean Brody had no children of her own. The sixty-year-old and Kendra had bonded very closely, but even that bond had never breached the woman’s loyalty to the senator. What she had given today was a confirmation of something Kendra already knew. It was their mutual respect that kept Jean off Kendra’s list of persons to interrogate. As well as the knowledge that no amount of persuasion would prompt the secretary to speak ill against Castille. She was a rare breed.
“You could say that, yes,” Kendra said in answer to her partner’s assessment.
Rocky made an agreeable sound and resumed his monitoring of the street outside the wall of plate glass that ran the length of the diner’s storefront. He was slightly out of his element but he hadn’t let that cloud his attitude.