Touch & Go (Tessa Leoni, #2)(118)

Tessa’s voice trailed off. And just like that she knew. A suspect so obvious, they’d never ever considered him. And yet…

Lopez was still regarding her blankly.

She sprang to her feet, stopping just long enough to give Zeus a quick kiss on top of the head. Definitely, she and Sophie should get a dog. But for now:

“Entry code for the Denbe Construction offices. I need it. Now.”


WYATT WANTED TO GO HOME. He understood Libby Denbe’s instinct perfectly. Hell, he’d only been working the past forty-eight hours, not held captive against his will, and already, he wanted nothing more than to return to the sanctuary of his personal space for a hot shower, a home-cooked meal (fine, a microwaved freezer meal) and a good night’s sleep.

But here was the part of policing no one told you about until it was too late: The doing was the smallest piece of the job. Writing up reports detailing what you’d just done, on the other hand…

He was filling out paperwork. Lots of it. So was Kevin, but Kevin actually liked paperwork. He was annoying that way.

Two A.M., his cell phone rang. Nicole Adams. Didn’t surprise him, and not just because Nicole was an upwardly mobile FBI agent, but because she genuinely cared about her work. If a case didn’t have a resolution—and this one certainly lacked many key answers—she’d stay nose to the grindstone till it did.

Out of professional respect, not to mention for old times’ sake, he took the call.

“Found the white van?” she asked immediately. His department was handling the APB on the white cargo van, not to mention Justin Denbe’s corpse.

“No van, no band of merry men and no dead body.”

“Seriously? With all the officers in the area?”

“I’m getting the impression the hired muscle involved a brain or two.”

Deep sigh. “The body bothers me,” Nicole muttered. “They’re not going to keep something that incriminating, let alone smelly, in the back of their vehicle.”

“Oh, I doubt they’re driving the van anymore. Best guess, given their complete disappearance off the radar screen, is that they had another vehicle waiting. Tomorrow morning, we’ll start sending divers into nearby lakes and ponds. Most likely, we’ll find the van completely submerged with Denbe’s body in the back. That would explain the whole now-you-see-’em, now-you-don’t act.” His turn to ask a question: “Any trace of the missing funds?”

“No, and I’m told the financial gurus have turned Anita Bennett’s personal finances inside and out. It’s possible she has the monies stashed under an alias in yet another offshore account, of course. But as of this moment, we’re mostly chasing our tails.”

Wyatt grunted, Nicole’s frustration on the subject mirroring his own.

“Libby and Ashlyn?” he asked.

“Returned to their townhome.” Where they could magically pick up the pieces of their lives. Nicole didn’t say the words out loud, but they were implied.

“Are you going to see her?” Nicole asked abruptly.

“Who?”

“Tessa Leoni. She stands next to you, you know. With everyone else, she maintains a good three- to five-foot barrier. But not you.”

Wyatt thought he might be blushing. He covered his face with his hand, while hedging carefully. “Why are you asking?”

“It’s late. I’m tired. I’m curious.”

“Tessa is an interesting woman.”

“You’re going to ask her out.” Nicole supplied the words not as a question but as a statement. She didn’t sound angry about it, though. More like satisfied.

“What’s his name?” Wyatt asked.

Nicole’s turn to blush, at least that’s what he told himself.

“Well, now that you mention it…”

Turned out she’d met a financial planner six months ago. They were very happy together. Which made Wyatt feel surprisingly better about things. Not that they owed each other anything, but still… Always nice to know the other person was happy, and all’s well that ends well.

“You’ll call me when you find the van?” Nicole requested now. “Or better yet, when you’ve located our three suspects.”

“Sure. Likewise?”

“Likewise.”

“Now go get some sleep. One of us has to.”

Wyatt hung up the phone. Then he laced his fingers behind his head, leaned back in his chair and frowned. Personal life aside, Nicole’s update on the missing funds bothered him. A van with three commandos and a body vanishing into thin air made some sense. The right pond, forest gully, overgrown pile of bramble. Plenty of places in the wilds of New Hampshire convenient for disappearing a vehicle. But the embezzled funds? Eleven million dollars that had been sitting around in a variety of fake bank accounts for the past fifteen or so years suddenly gone without a trace?

“Kevin,” he called out. Across the task-force room, where they’d spread out to do their paperwork, Kevin’s head popped up.

“What?”

“You’re a smart man. If you had eleven million dollars, what would you do with it?”

“Stuff my mattress,” the resident brainiac replied promptly. “Bedding doesn’t require any paperwork. Better yet, it can’t testify against you in a court of law.”