Long Gone (8 page)

“What the hell?” he exclaimed, taking in
Skyler’s
chagrined expression. 

“I’m so sorry,” she said in a small voice. “I had to leave before I got you in over your head. I ran into your father and . . . and I had to tell him where you were.”

Drake leveled a glare at the freckle-faced, square jawed man in the suit. “Let me guess,” he sneered. “You must be
Skyler’s
case handler.”

The deputy marshal didn’t even attempt to smile. “Special Agent Hank Higgins,” he said. 

Drake rounded on his father. “Why’d you bring this loser here?”

“Higgins and I have some explaining to do,” Connor answered. “Put that gun away and step aside, son. That’s an order.”

Drake met
Skyler’s
pleading gaze and, with a shudder of resentment, went into the bathroom to pull on his pants. 

His mind raced as the threesome let
themselves
inside. He shook his head. He cursed himself for not sharing his thoughts with
Skyler
before she fell asleep about his plan to protect her from a distance. But now it was too late. She’d run into his father who’d brought Higgins with him, even after that man’s negligence had nearly gotten
Skyler
killed. What was Connor thinking?

Stalking out of the bathroom still buttoning his shirt, he found all three of them waiting by the window.

“Let’s all take a seat,” Higgins suggested. 

“Fine,” Drake said. Reaching for
Skyler
, he tugged her down onto the edge of the bed beside him. “You okay?” he asked as she hugged his arm to her chest, her expression wreathed in apology.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just listen.” 

He divided a curious look between the two men. “Listen to what?”

Connor sat forward, his elbows on his knees. “The first thing you should know is that Higgins didn’t intentionally hang
Skyler
out to dry. What happened last night was a sting operation gone
bad
. We set it up together to get the evidence I needed on my end.”

Drake shook his head, baffled.
“Evidence for what?”

Connor drew a deep breath. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the Culprit,” he asked.        

“Of course.”
Who hadn’t? More than one broken Centurion had dropped the Culprit’s name during interrogation, identifying him as a key figure in the mob and imbuing him with the godlike power to protect or destroy his own kind. But no one had ever identified him, and every attempt to flush him out had been unsuccessful.

“We’ve determined who he is,” Connor announced.

“We?”

“Higgins and I,” Connor clarified.
“Plus some of our colleagues in the Undercover Division.”

Drake blinked in confusion. “Don’t I work for you? Why wasn’t I kept informed of this?”

It was Higgins who answered this time. “Because we figured the Culprit might use you.”

“What? How could he use me?” He paused as possibilities flooded his brain.
“Who the fuck is the Culprit?”

“He’s our boss,” his father answered. “Deputy Director Bill Milton.”

Drake was shocked into silence as
goosebumps
ridged his forearms.   

Connor nodded. “Milton’s uncle was a mobster, remember? That’s what gave us the edge at the outset of our investigation. He knew how the mob operated and who was who, even though he claimed to have no more allegiance.”

“Wait a minute. If he was still a Centurion, why the hell did he rat on them?”

“It wasn’t a question of loyalty,” Connor answered. “It was all about extortion. For those who could pay him, like Jameson, for instance, he offered his protection. Those who couldn’t— he let them burn, safe in the knowledge that they couldn’t identify him since he’d hidden his identity for decades.”

“Jesus.” Drake ran a hand through his hair. “But there still had to be a leak in WITSEC for him to find
Skyler
.”

“There was no leak,” Higgins assured him, “though we considered that a possibility until
Skyler
admitted she’d called you, once from Omaha and another time from Portland. Both times, Centurions showed up a short time later looking for her. The phone calls had clearly given her away.”

“But I use a secure phone,” Drake protested. “How is that possible?”

“Believe me, I had the same question. I went to your father with my suspicions, and he acknowledged that the only way it was possible was for someone inside the Bureau to be monitoring your calls.”

Drake shivered. “Bill Milton,” he guessed.
“But how?”

“Remember that mandatory software upgrade on your phone a few years back?” Connor answered. “Every field agent in the Bureau had to have it, allegedly for security purposes. That
was Deputy Milton’s doing. He uploaded software on your phone that allowed him to bug your calls—in fact any conversation you have within range of your phone, whether it’s turned on or not could be monitored.”

So when
Skyler
had called him from Oregon and Portland and more recently from the motel last night, Milton had seen exactly where the call was coming from. His goons, already in the area, had come straight over to grab her.

“I can’t believe it.” Drake shook his head. “What made you suspect Milton in the first place?”

“Think about it. Every time a key Centurion went to trial, there was insufficient evidence to convict. But we
had
the evidence.” Connor slapped his palm. “And only Milton could have made it disappear before each trial. When Higgins came to me with the suspicion that someone was monitoring your calls, I knew it had to be someone on the inside, someone high up, like Milton. Together, we devised a plan to leverage evidence against him.”

“A plan,” Drake repeated as pieces of the puzzle fell together. “Wait a minute, you set up
Skyler
intentionally?”

“Yes.” Higgins clasped his hands together. “We called you several times from Myrtle Beach, using
Skyler’s
calling card and hanging up the same way she had. If our theory was right, Centurions would show up looking for her. Sure enough, they did.”

Drake glared at his father. “You knew all this when I called you for help,” he accused “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

Connor grimaced. “You had your phone with you the whole time, didn’t you? I couldn’t take the chance that Milton was listening in. He’d know I was on to him.”

“Don’t blame your father.” Higgins jumped to Connor’s defense. “It’s my fault our plan took a wrong turn.” Pulling off his sunglasses, he sent
Skyler
a remorseful look. “I should have told
Skyler
what we were up to. That way she would have stayed in the safe room like she was supposed to.”

“Why didn’t you?”
Skyler
demanded, her voice quavering.

Higgins grimaced. “I didn’t want you to panic. I figured as long as you went straight into your safe room, you’d be fine and I’d explain everything when I came to collect you. My men and I were right outside the entire time.” His hazel eyes swiveled toward Drake. “When the intruders went into her house, we bugged their van. The minute they left, I went inside to get
Skyler
from the safe room. But by the time I got there, she was gone. She must have slipped right past me.”

Drake shook his head at the man’s incompetence. “What if they’d grabbed her before she went into the closet? What if they shot and killed her on sight?”

Higgins broke eye contact. “That’s why we built the safe room,” he muttered. “So that wouldn’t happen.”

“How did bugging their van help?”
Skyler
wanted to know.    

“It allowed our analysts to record the call they made reporting their failure to grab you. The voice on the other end of the call belonged to Bill Milton.”

With much to think about, Drake rubbed
Skyler’s
stiff back. At least the so-called leak in WITSEC proved non-existent. It was his cell phone that had been compromised, pointing Centurions to the cities from which
Skyler
had called him. Knowing that, he felt better about sending her back with Higgins

“Don’t you ever use Sky as bait again,” he warned the agent. 

“Not going to happen,” Higgins promised. “I promise you’ll be safe from now on,” he said to
Skyler
.

Connor pushed to his feet and started pacing. “
Skyler
said you tossed your cell phone into the back of a pickup truck?”

“That’s right.
One with out-of-state tags.”

“Good. Then Milton never heard this conversation. All he knows is that you called me this morning and I flew you down here and together we freed
Skyler
and arrested Jameson. Jameson’s arrest is bound to make him nervous, though. When Milton sees the writing on the wall, he’ll try to flee the country.”

“Do you have enough evidence to get him indicted?”

Skyler’s
frightened question pulled a reassuring smile out of Connor. “Possibly,” he conceded. “Jameson is squealing like a stuck pig, but he hasn’t fingered Milton outright—if he even knows who he is. At least what he’s told the interrogators lines up with the evidence we already have.”

“Why did the Culprit give
Skyler
to Jameson, anyway?” Drake wondered out loud.

Connor shrugged. “It was an agreement they came up with, one that kept Milton’s hands clean.”

Drake felt his agitation rising. “How do you know Milton hasn’t fled the country already?”

Connor patted his cell phone.
“Because his wife hasn’t called me yet.”

Drake regarded his father in surprise. “His wife is in on this?” 

“She’s our lead witness.” Connor’s confident smirk faded. “Listen, I can’t waste another minute down here. I need you to take me to the airfield.”

In other words, it was time to relinquish
Skyler
to the U.S. Marshals. Drake tightened his hold on her, every cell in his body protesting.   

“She’ll be safe,” Higgins promised. 

Drake hit him with a level stare. “You’ll answer to me if anything happens to her,” he threatened.

Higgins inclined his head in acknowledgement. 

“Let’s give them a minute.” Connor gestured for the U.S. Marshal to join him by the door.

Left alone,
Skyler
and Drake turned to face each other.

He tried swallowing around the lump in his throat. “This isn’t what I wanted,” he protested.

“I know.” She raised her hands to his broad shoulders. “But it’s better this way, Drake.”

Possibly, but it was hard to convince himself of that. 

“What we shared today will give me the strength to keep going—” Her voice broke. “—without you,” she added, her tears overflowing suddenly. 

He locked his hands over hers and slid them to rest over his heart. “Don’t worry. I’ll wait for you, Sky,” he swore. “For as long as it takes.”

“I love you!” she cried, throwing her arms around him.

He crushed her to him one last time. “I love you more.”

“Time to go,” Connor called from the door, his tone less abrupt than usual.

Closing his eyes to savor the memory, Drake pressed a final kiss on
Skyler’s
lips. 

Then he stood up, jammed his feet into his shoes, grabbed up his possessions and headed for the door. He did not look back.

After the Culprit was apprehended and incarcerated, the Centurions who remained would be exposed and prosecuted. Then
Skyler
would be free to live her life with him.

Drake had to believe that. It was the only thing that kept him moving forward.

**

Bill Milton was in a
pissy
mood. He had spent his entire morning trying to rectify the mistakes of imbeciles. Was there no one else in this whole world capable of discretion and forethought? The idiocy of those he protected and those who worked for him now threatened his own future. It was everyone else’s damn fault he was being forced to bail out earlier than planned.

He
had done everything flawlessly. 

Snatching up his suitcase from the taxi that had picked him up at the movie theater and brought him to Ronald Reagan International Airport, Milton waved off the porter who stepped off the curb to help him. With his jaw jumping, he stalked through the automatic doors into the airport lobby and headed straight toward security with his carry-on bag, having printed off his boarding pass at a net café earlier. 

The airport was crammed with traveling business people. Bill hated airports. Having owned a private jet for a decade now, he had yet to encounter the post 9/11 security measures that plagued the average traveler. But flying out of the country on his private jet was what Connor Donovan expected him to do.