Cold Silence Read online

  Frankly, it was about damn time they had a female operator and Shane was proud to have her on his team, but another glance at his boss and Shane suddenly realized why they were here this morning.

  “Griffin and Kincaid are joining Gold team’s Echo assaulters. Donnelly is joining Charlie assaulters.” Novak confirmed Shane’s suspicion a second later. “As you’re here, I’d like you to show them where to put their gear. Griffin is with you.”

  Shane’s throat closed and he looked away, wishing he was able to give these people the heartwarming welcome he’d received three years ago.

  “Sure.” His voice was like sandpaper in his throat. “No problem.”

  Shane straightened his spine and met the dark brown eyes of his new partner. He’d voted that Griffin get a spot on Gold team after he finished his six months of training—so had Scotty. But Shane had never imagined the guy would fill Scotty’s prematurely empty boots.

  Griffin stared back at him impassively and Shane recalled the guy had suffered his own devastating loss last year. Griffin had been at the funeral yesterday, all the new NOTS graduates had been.

  “Kincaid is with Nash. Donnelly is with Steel. Cadell is getting his own cage to make more room for Hugo’s equipment.”

  Shane nodded woodenly. Nash, Cowboy and Cadell had suffered minor injuries last week but were already back at work. Hugo—their K9 team member—had thankfully been fine.

  “Spell out to these guys the expectations regarding storing and maintaining their own equipment and ammunition. Then I want you to report to my office after the morning briefing. I have a new assignment for you.”

  Wait. What? Shane took a step forward. “What do you mean, a new assignment?”

  Was he being removed from the team? Had Novak decided he was a liability?

  Novak released a slow breath and clasped Shane’s good arm. “Shane, I know this hasn’t been easy for you—”

  He jerked away. “Because it should have been me.” Emotion was a vise around his throat. “You and I and everyone else in HRT knows it.” He raised the stupid cast on his arm. “If I hadn’t tripped down that stairwell, I wouldn’t have broken my arm. Scotty wouldn’t be rotting in a casket six feet under.”

  Novak’s eyes narrowed. “You really think your broken arm is what caused Scotty’s death?”

  “I didn’t cause his death but there is no one in this world who can argue the only reason Scotty was holding the breacher last week was because I couldn’t.”

  “Oh. That’s funny. You told me you could handle the breacher despite your cast. In fact, you told me you could do it better than ever because the cast helped strengthen your arm. That’s what you told me.” Novak sounded coldly furious.

  Shane huffed. “I was bullshitting you and you knew it.”

  “That’s right.” Novak took a step forward until he was right in Shane’s face, but the look in his eyes wasn’t anger. It was complete ruination. “I did know you were bullshitting and I knew why. If it was up to you, you would have handled the breacher even with two broken arms. I’m the one who put Scotty in your position. I’m the one who ordered you to stand down. I’m the one who ultimately signed a death warrant for whoever breached that door. Me. Not you.”

  Shane could see the same guilt he was feeling, reflected in the wreckage of Novak’s eyes.

  “But it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t my fault either. It was that evil son of a bitch’s fault. He’s the one who needs to take the blame. He’s who we need to focus on, not our own useless self-pity.”

  Shane blew out a massive breath. He couldn’t speak. Novak was right but dealing with the emotions he was feeling wasn’t that easy.

  Novak continued. “Accidents happen. We can spend our days fast-roping out of helicopters and then trip over the curb and break an arm on the way to our car. It’s called life and it isn’t fucking fair.”

  Shane nodded even though there was no way anyone could tell him he wasn’t responsible in some way for how things had gone down. But he didn’t want to lose his place on the team by arguing the point further. Bad enough being sidelined. He needed back on the team if he were to have any hope of being there when the FBI caught this asshole. He needed to see the psycho pay.

  “I’ve got this, boss.” He stood straighter and stared Novak in the eyes—because when you sold a lie to a man of this caliber you had better put your heart and soul into it. “I’ve made an appointment with the psychologist next week and I know I have to work through the grief process, but I promise it won’t affect my judgment or my ability to do my job.”

  Novak waited a beat, then nodded. “Be that as it may, you are off the team until your arm heals.”

  Anger filled Shane. He spoke through gritted teeth. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  Novak ignored his protest. “According to the doc, eight weeks minimum from the date of the accident before you can start training again, which means you have some time left to go.”

  Shane ground his teeth.

  “So instead of you sitting here cleaning your weapon five hours a day, I found you a position as liaison with the Bureau task force hunting this motherfucker.”

  Shane opened his mouth to argue but then his brain caught up. “Wait. What?”

  Novak squeezed his shoulder. “Help the new guys settle in. They’ve worked hard to get here and earned their spots the same way you and I and Scotty did.”

  Shane blinked as he looked away. Cleared his throat. “With Seth Hopper taking that temporary assignment with Border Patrol Gold assaulters will still be a man down without me.”

  “Kurt Montana and Jordan Krychek are due back from overseas shortly. Jordan is going to step in until you’re back to full strength. Then he’ll swap out with you onto the task force. I want you to update both of us daily on any significant advances in the investigation.”

  Shane licked his suddenly dry lips. This was a chance to know exactly what the FBI was doing to catch this UNSUB. The lack of information had been driving him nuts since they’d left Texas. No one would tell him a damn thing and the task force was keeping everything locked down tight—which was good, except he needed to know.

  “Does that mean I have to move up to DC for a few weeks?”

  Novak shook his head. “They decided to run it out of Quantico.”

  Shane drew in a deep breath. This was a win-win. It felt almost too good to be true. He’d always been suspicious of that feeling.

  “You think you can handle it, or shall I assign someone else?” Novak asked.

  “I can handle it.” Shane stood straighter and angled his chin. Damn straight he could handle it.

  Will Griffin, Hunt Kincaid and Meghan Donnelly edged to one side of the cage as their boss went to exit.

  “I’ll leave you all to settle in. See you at eight sharp for the team briefing. Shane, you’re to report to Building 64 Room 3A at oh-nine hundred Monday.” Novak headed to the door and paused. “And, as tempting as it may be to go after this killer on your own, don’t. It will be grounds for dismissal from HRT and possibly the Bureau, understood?”

  Shane stood to attention and saluted the way he’d been taught back when he’d been an idiot child who’d thought joining the Army sounded like a good idea. “Sir.”

  Humor curled Novak’s mouth. He shook his head. “Any issues. Any of you,” he included the new team members in this comment, “come to me. It’s been a rough week for all of us. You need to talk, you come find me.”

  They all nodded in agreement and then Shane and Griffin looked at one another after the boss left. Griffin’s mouth pulled to the corner reflecting exactly what Shane was thinking. No way in hell would any of them go crawling to the boss with “issues.”

  Shane held out his good hand to the each of the newcomers. “Welcome to the best squad in US law enforcement. Don’t fuck it up.”

  Griffin’s hand squeezed his. “I don’t intend to.”

  Neither did Shane. Hopefully.

  5

 
“You could come out for a meal with us.” A dimple flashed beside Laura’s red-lipstick-painted smile as she slid behind an empty table. “Make it a threesome.”

  Yael slumped beside her friend who bumped her shoulder.

  “I’m kidding.”

  Yael shook her head, a reluctant smile curving her lips. “I’m too tired to socialize and I have an early start tomorrow.”

  “You’re always too something to socialize.”

  “I think the word you are looking for is ‘antisocial.’”

  “Well, you’re not too old to change, Grandma.”

  Yael stuck out her tongue at her friend. Laura might be right, but tonight wasn’t the night to change the habits of a lifetime. She tried to push aside the downbeat feeling that had been plaguing her for the past week, but the events of Houston had formed the background to every waking thought, every breath.

  Laura had begged Yael to accompany her tonight because she’d arranged to meet some guy online for a date. Yael had agreed because, after relocating down here from DC, Laura had spent the last two days helping Yael organize her amazing new home as well as Cramer, Parker & Gray’s new satellite office. The company had paid a removal firm to schlep the furniture and boxes, but there were always a million things to take care of.

  Laura took a sip of her wine. A couple of years ago she’d been blissfully married to the love of her life. Then he’d left her for a woman barely out of her teens and it had done a number on her friend’s self-esteem. Yael had checked out the ex and his new wife online and they looked nauseatingly joyful. A constant thorn in Laura’s psyche.

  “We should go on vacation somewhere together,” Laura mused. “The Maldives or Greece.”

  Yael stared at the table. She’d always wanted to travel but didn’t have a passport. “Maybe.”

  “You could bring your art supplies and sit around looking all moody and artistic. I could order food and drink and interact with the locals.” Laura raised a finely plucked brow suggestively.

  The thought of visiting some of the places on her bucket list was tempting, very tempting. But it wasn’t that simple and now wasn’t the time. They had a killer to catch. “I’ll think about it. What time is your date coming?”

  Laura checked her cell. “He said seven.”

  Yael checked her watch too. It was five to. “I’ll hang out at the bar until you give me the thumbs up signal.”

  Why someone as attractive and internet savvy as Laura found dates via the internet Yael didn’t know. She didn’t trust the apps. The guy was probably nothing like his profile picture and she couldn’t imagine hooking up with someone based on their online persona. She knew how fake that could be. Then again, so did Laura and most of the rest of the dating universe. Why was Yael one of the last holdouts when it came to internet dating when she didn’t exactly go out of her way to meet people in real life either?

  Maybe because the last thing she wanted to do was actually get involved with anyone? Definitely maybe. Celibacy was easier if a lot lonelier. She recalled a pair of wintergreen eyes and let out a heavy sigh.

  Laura glanced at her. “You don’t need to stay, you know. I’ll be fine. If I don’t click with this guy, I’ll probably head back to DC tonight to avoid the morning traffic. I can give you a ride home first.”

  A roar erupted from a group of young men playing pool in the back corner of the bar. Yael glanced over at them. Some of the guys were eyeing them. Her fingers clenched into fists in her lap. “Don’t worry about the ride. If you hit it off send me a text and I’ll order a cab or whatever.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure. I’m heading to the restroom now.” Laura kissed Yael’s cheek and glanced at the guys playing pool with a knowing glint in her eye, but thankfully didn’t suggest anything.

  “Be careful. You know how many creeps there are in the world.” Yael wiped her cheek as she headed over to the bar to order another drink. She grabbed a stool and slipped out of her leather jacket. Sitting here like a spare part was the least she could do for her friend, even if it meant she was at a bar rather than curled up on her new living room sofa, watching the latest episode of Survivor.

  Her beer arrived and she paid the barkeep.

  A man came in and stood beside her.

  She watched him out of the corner of her eye and in the mirror. Medium height. Slender build. Dark hair that looked like it might have a tendency to curl. Blue eyes. Gray suit. White shirt. Blue tie. He looked out of place in this bar full of jarheads, although, given the proximity to Quantico, he might be associated with the Bureau.

  Laura’s date?

  He caught her gaze and gave her a nervous smile. “I hope you don’t mind me standing here. I’m waiting for my date to show up and worried I’m about to be stood up because if she looks anything like her profile picture, she’s way out of my league.” He checked his phone and scanned the bar. His face lit up as Laura returned from the restroom. “But there she is.”

  Yael smiled. “Well, you’re a lucky guy. She’s gorgeous.” Yael took a sip of her beer, determined not to ruin Laura’s chances if it turned out she really liked this guy. He wasn’t Yael’s type but few men were.

  The image of that grim-faced, green-eyed HRT operator from last week once again flashed through her mind. She pushed the image away. He’d filtered in and out of her thoughts all week long and she wasn’t sure why. However handsome he might be, Shane Livingstone definitely wasn’t her type. Even less so than this guy. But they’d shared something on a fundamental level. Something that wouldn’t be so easy to forget any time soon.

  Laura’s date gave Yael a shy smile. “Enjoy your evening.”

  She looked away and Mister Tinder walked over to Laura and held out his hand, laughing and joking. Yael pulled a face at herself in the mirror behind the bar as she watched Laura and her new beau chat away like old friends.

  Her stomach growled rudely and she pressed her hand against it. When was the last time she’d eaten? She checked the mirror. Laura and her date were clearly enjoying each other’s company.

  She caught the barkeep’s attention. “Can I get a basket of chicken wings, please?”

  The barkeep nodded and sent her order to the cook. She was starving and hadn’t gone grocery shopping yet so there was hardly any food in her new place.

  Yael tipped back her beer. She should be celebrating. She’d just purchased her first home which felt like a miracle. She should have ordered champagne but this didn’t seem like a champagne sort of joint. Plus, drinking champagne alone seemed even more pathetic than drinking beer alone so…

  She raised her empty bottle to ask for another.

  After the events of last Friday, Alex had requested she bring forward her relocation to the satellite office that Cramer, Parker & Gray had recently established at Quantico so she could more easily continue on this Joint Task Force that was working to capture this sadistic killer.

  She’d been looking for a place to buy down here and Alex suddenly had a friend from the BAU who was selling and had already moved into a bigger property. It had happened so fast Yael couldn’t believe she was finally a homeowner. The house was fantastic and had great security, too. Alex had been fastidious about her personal safety ever since her face had been seen by one of the country’s most dangerous serial killers. She knew he was worried about what had happened last week. She’d be lying if she said she was cool with it. More than anything, she was angry. At herself, at Evi1Geni-us. At anyone who thought it was okay to hurt other people for pleasure or because they’d had a bad day.

  Her thoughts flinched away from the direction they’d taken.

  Evi1Geni-us hadn’t broadcast her identity to the world, or doxxed her. Yet.

  It was another reason why moving and buying a house through a private sale and via the shell company Alex had set up to thwart anyone trying to track her down had seemed like an excellent idea. It didn’t stop someone figuring out where she lived by simply following her home. She needed to be vigilant. Alex
had offered to give her some lessons in surveillance detection this weekend which she planned to take him up on.

  They’d already gone over her online security and had taken some precautions. The vulnerability in her system had been inserted as an executable script when she’d begun tracking the computer streaming the video. They’d assumed Evi1Geni-us was busy torturing Anya Baker when in fact he’d been doing to her what she’d been doing to him.

  Hunting.

  And he’d had the advantage. He’d somehow known they were operating out of the FBI’s Houston Field Office. He’d set a trap and, despite knowing better, she’d fallen straight into it.

  She’d since rewritten her programs to detect anything like it in the future and three independent experts, including a certain pissy Special Agent Chen, had gone over every pixel, every byte, every line of code, and every physical component of her machine—and every other machine in that FBI operations room last week to confirm they were clean. Evi1Geni-us hadn’t done any real damage to them. Just shaken their confidence and made them look like fools.

  Better than what he’d done to HRT… The memory made her mouth flood with saliva. Agent Monteith had been a good man by all accounts. Yael wished for the millionth time she could somehow change the past, but it was futile.

  A young man came over and stood a little too close as he ordered another round for himself and his shaven-headed friends who were playing pool.

  “No,” she said firmly, as he met her gaze and opened his mouth to deliver what was, no doubt, his favorite pickup line.

  He shot his friends a despondent look and they all burst out laughing.

  “Ma’am.” He nodded as he picked up the beers on a tray and walked away.