Page 18 of Blind Trust
A buzzing noise started at the base of Tom’s skull. “Pardon?”
“I’ve pulled up our employee database, and we don’t have anyone named Jordan Kemp under BOP or anywhere in the DOJ. You said he was investigating the death of an inmate?”
Tom’s nerves lit with a current of anxiousness he didn’t care for. If Jordan Kemp didn’t exist in the DOJ, did he exist at all? Tom had been in this line of work long enough, had experience in the world of pretense when he worked in the CIA, and had handled enough assignments within SNAP to recognize the warning in his gut.
“Maybe I misheard the name,” Tom said. “I’ll reach out to Jim and double-check and get back to you. Have a good night, Bill.”
When the call ended, Tom was left with the quiet hum of his car as he accelerated down North Washington to his home. Lyla’s iron-willed expression flashed to mind. The second she caught wind of this information, she’d be unstoppable in her quest to find out who and what was behind the threat against her. Tom needed to get ahead of this ASAP.
7
Never had a dead man caused Nic so much grief.
Nic’s palms ached with the pressure of his fingers curling into fists. Rising from his desk, he stretched and moved toward the wide window with the panoramic view of the Capitol and DC’s busy landscape. His gaze zeroed in on the streets outside the Acacia Building, Lyla’s question from the night before circling his mind again.
If Jerry was dead...who was threatening Lyla’s life?
Was this Jerry’s idea of a sick joke?
Nic tensed. It hadn’t been lost on him that not only had the person who smashed the brick into Lyla’s windshield known she’d just gotten back to the office, but that meant it was possible Nic might’ve seen him. Crossed paths with him in the parking garage...
He dragged a hand down his face, agitation tightening the muscles he’d worked out for two hours earlier that morning.
Jack walked up next to Nic. “You okay, brother?”
“Lyla should be back by now.” He pulled off his hat and ran a hand through his hair before replacing it. “Does Kekoa really need to eat three breakfasts?”
“First breakfast, second breakfast, elevenses!” Kekoa called out from his office. “Good enough for hobbits, good enough for me.”
Nic blew out a breath. “Does he realize he’s the size of ten hobbits?”
“That’s why he needs five meals a day.”
“Seven!”
Nic and Jack exchanged smirks.
Jack’s attention moved back to the street outside the Acacia Building. “You think he’d be crazy enough to show up here again?”
Kekoa still hadn’t identified the hooded figure they’d caught on their cameras, but it wasn’t a stretch to assume the person was male. “Part of me is hoping he does show up, then I’d—”
At the sound of footsteps, Nic spun around to find Lyla standing there carrying a tray with baked breakfast croissants on one side and a mixed fruit bowl on the other. She arched a brow at Nic, a spark in her eye. “You’d what?”
“I’d call the police.” Nic tipped the brim of his hat down. “After my fists confirmed his identity.”
Lyla’s amused laughter caused Nic to let his guard down, and it was a sweet release.
“Well, let me save you the trouble of a fistfight that might damage that handsome mug of yours.” She winked. “I’d hate for you to be unable to eat healthy—hold the bacon—rabbit food.”
Kekoa strutted out of his office. “Someone say handsome?”
Lyla smiled, and Nic didn’t detect an ounce of tension in it. Unlike what he’d been feeling the last twenty-ish hours. She set the food on the conference table, then went to the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with another tray of plates, napkins, three cups of coffee, and one bright green drink that he knew was meant just for him.
Jack’s cell phone rang, and he stepped into Walsh’s office to answer it.
“You didn’t have to go out of your way,” Nic said when she handed him his favorite pineapple-kale smoothie from the café down the street. “I’d have been fine with water.”
“I know, but I also know you really like these salads in a cup,so...” She shrugged and took her usual seat at the conference table.
