What She Doesn't See (16 page)

Alex studied his pocket where his hand now
rested. There could be a gun in there. Her heart had started to
beat faster, pumping adrenaline through her veins. She couldn’t
help Hitch if she got herself killed. But she couldn’t give this
guy what he wanted without knowing who the hell he was and who the
hell Murphy was. She refused to let Hitch’s death be for
nothing.

“I can prove Murphy killed your detective
friend,” Chambers insisted, “but first you must come with me. It’s
for your own safety.”

“If you can prove who killed my friend, then
we have something to talk about,” she allowed, “but we’ll do it on
my terms.”

His face reddened with the rage seeping out
around his rigid composure. “You’ll come with me now unless you
want to become one of Miami’s sad statistics. How would you like
this to end, Miss Jackson?”

Alex refused to let fear get the better of
her. She nodded toward the fountain. “You see the security
guard?”

Chambers glanced briefly in the direction
she’d indicated.

“He’s a friend of mine. How do
you
want this to end, Mr. Chambers?” She went on when he simply glared
at her. “All I want is the truth. I want whoever killed my friend
to pay and I want your precious technology to end up back where it
belongs.”

Instead of responding, he did the last thing
she’d expected.

He wheeled around and hurried away.

What the hell was that about?

Just then, in her peripheral vision, she got
her answer.

Wyatt Murphy.

Avery Chambers had scared her.

Damn it. Even after a long, hot bath and a
couple of cold ones, she was still shaken.

A great deal of who she was, okay, maybe her
entire existence, was tied inextricably with her sense of
independence. Being afraid didn’t bode well with maintaining the
level of confidence required to feel totally independent.

She’d been all cocky and determined to
strong-arm the truth out of the guy, Chambers, but that hadn’t
happened. At this moment she wasn’t certain of anything, most
assuredly of what she should or shouldn’t do.

The police, including Patton, wouldn’t listen
to her when she suggested that Hitch’s accident had been no
accident. Even O’Neill had wimped out on her. Giving the kid grace,
his friends were dead and he was terrified that he would be
next.

Alex was left with no clear avenues to
pursue.

How the hell could this happen in real
life?

Bizarre computer devices and secret agents!
Gimme a break!
This was movie and book fodder, not part of
the regular workday grind. Now she wondered if that old guy would
have killed her had Murphy not been around.

The idea of dying now, at forty, with so much
life ahead of her—so many things she wanted to do—made her feel
sick to her stomach. Hitch had lost decades of living. Not to
mention the wife and kids he’d hoped for. He’d wanted those things
and he’d missed out.

Trying to look at the situation rationally,
if what Chambers said was true, Crane hadn’t committed suicide at
all. He’d been murdered just like Hitch. The scenario didn’t make
sense in Alex’s opinion because he’d still been wearing the contact
lens. She didn’t buy Chambers’ suggestion that the killer hadn’t
known what to look for. That would make for one dumb killer.

Why didn’t the government simply come in and
take what was theirs? She could only imagine the surveillance
techniques they had at their disposal. Why were people merely
assuming she had the device? Why didn’t they know for sure? Her
home had been searched at least once. Where was that fancy
technology she’d seen used in the movies? Even her ingenious hiding
place shouldn’t withstand elaborate gadgets designed for finding
hidden items.

Was that why Murphy had shown up in her life?
Was he supposed to watch her until he had the truth or the device,
whichever came first? Had he been hired to retrieve it at all costs
using nothing more than old-fashioned thug tactics?

Which one was the bad guy? Avery Chambers or
Wyatt Murphy? Obviously they weren’t on the same team.

A knock on her door made her jump. She
checked the peephole.

Wyatt Murphy stood on her porch.

For about three seconds she contemplated
telling him to go away, but her curiosity got the better of
her.

She opened the door a crack. “What do you
want?”

“We need to talk.”

Did they really have anything to talk about?
What made him think she would trust anything he said?

“May I come in?”

She pursed her lips and considered the best
way to proceed. “Give me your weapon.”

Proud of herself for coming up with that one,
she tamped down a grin, squared her shoulders, and waited for him
to comply. She hadn’t watched all those seasons of cop shows for
nothing.

He reached beneath his elegant navy suit
jacket and removed a big black weapon. He held it out, butt first,
for her. She took it, surprised at how heavy it was.

“You have a backup piece?”
Blue
Bloods.

He reached down and removed another smaller
weapon from somewhere near his ankle. He handed it to her as well.
This one was lighter.

“Anything else?” he growled.

She thought about that a moment. “You have a
knife?”

“No,” he said from between clenched
teeth.

Testy, testy. She stepped back for him to
come inside. “Make yourself at home.”

After closing the door she joined him. She
sat on the sofa across from the chair where he lounged. Somehow her
grandmother’s doilies didn’t look right draped across the back of
the chair with him in the picture.

“What do you want, Mr. Murphy?” Despite the
lateness of the hour, his pastel blue shirt looked fresh and
unwrinkled. The striped tie, a deep blue like his jacket, completed
the stylish look. She almost sighed.

“I need the details of the conversation you
had with Avery Chambers.”

Alex wondered if Murphy took lessons in
suppressing his personality or if he simply didn’t have one. Then
again, guys as handsome as him rarely concentrated on developing
their character.

“He called me, asked me to meet with him so
he could warn me about you.” She placed the two weapons on the sofa
next to her.

Murphy didn’t look impressed or moved in any
way. He simply waited for her to continue.

“He told me you killed Detective
Hitchcock.”

There was the slightest flicker of something
in his eyes. Definitely not guilt or remorse, but something.

“Did you kill him?” she pressed. The irony
that two lethal weapons sat on the sofa cushion next to her wasn’t
lost on her. As much as she wanted her friend’s murderer brought to
justice, she was no vigilante.

“I had no reason to kill Detective
Hitchcock.”

She would bet a million dollars that Wyatt
Murphy could fool a lie detector test with no sweat. His tone was
completely void of emotion. His expression rarely changed. He
stared at her, unflinching except for that one imperceptible
flicker she’d observed.

How could a man so physically attractive be
so cold and unreachable? She never had been able to resist a
challenge. In this case that wasn’t a good thing. She hadn’t needed
Chambers to tell her that this guy was dangerous. Wyatt Murphy was
absolutely dangerous.

“Miss Jackson, I’m going to provide you with
information that is in direct conflict with my orders.” Incredibly
his droll, seemingly innocuous monotone was turning her on. “I’m
convinced that this is the only way to secure your
cooperation.”

“I’m all ears, Mr. Murphy.”

“The technology Charlie Crane was testing was
stolen from my agency—”

“What agency is that?” she interrupted,
deciding that his habit of only hitting the high spots was not
going to get them to the heart of the matter.

Another concession to either his mounting
frustration or his impatience, his jaw tightened visibly. “The
CIA.”

Yeah right. Like she would believe that in a
gazillion years. “You can prove this?” She made no attempt to keep
the skepticism out of her voice.

He pulled his credentials from his interior
jacket pocket and passed them to her. There was a snapshot of his
handsome mug, as well as all the other identifying information… but
IDs could be faked.

“How do I know this is real?” She passed the
case back to him. His fingers touched hers at the same instant
their gazes locked. Fire sizzled up her arm. The reaction didn’t
actually surprise her. As crazy as it was, she was undeniably
attracted to this man.

“I guess you’ll have to take my word for
it.”

“Like I was supposed to take Avery Chambers’
word?”

Murphy stared at her a moment before
responding. When he did, he spouted off a number. “Call, they’ll
confirm what I’ve told you.”

“How do I know that’s the real CIA’s number?”
She wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

“So look it up. Get the number for the D.C.
office.”

Alex chewed her lip a moment, and then went
for it. Using her cell, she Googled the CIA and called the number
provided.

“Put it on speakerphone,” Murphy ordered.

She obliged even if she didn’t appreciate
being ordered around. When the prerecorded voice had completed the
CIA’s spiel, including the part about their normal business hours,
which had passed, the voice asked her to enter her party’s
extension if she knew it.

She glanced at Murphy.

“Three-oh-one.”

Two rings later a gruff male voice answered.
“Weatherly.”

“Director, this is Wyatt Murphy.”

“Tell me what I want to hear, Murphy.”

“I don’t have the technology in hand just
yet, sir, but I’m working on it.”

Alex was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to
be privy to what the director said next. The man roared about the
importance of damage control. The necessity of discretion. And
lastly, how time was of the essence. Lots and lots of imaginative
adjectives were tossed in for good measure.

“Sir, I have Miss Alexis Jackson here and she
needs confirmation that my credentials are legitimate.’’

A moment of silence passed before the
director gave her the information she needed. She supposed she
should be impressed, but she wasn’t sure about that yet. She
thanked him and he informed her of her duty to her country. Nothing
she’d heard or seen on this case could be discussed with anyone.
She didn’t mention the fact that she’d already talked to Shannon
and Bobby. Not to mention Patton who still didn’t believe her.

When the call ended, Murphy settled that
intense gaze on her once more. “Now, what did Chambers tell
you?”

“Basically the same thing you just did.
Top-secret technology, had to get it back, so on and so forth.
Well, except the part about you being a killer and very
dangerous.”

Murphy looked away.

“What’s the matter, didn’t you catch him?”
Chambers was at least twenty-five years older than Murphy. Surely
catching the guy hadn’t been a problem.

“He’s dead.”

Fear trickled through her. “You killed
him?”

Murphy shook his head. “He killed
himself.”

Now we were back to the superspy stuff. “Oh,
yeah right, the whole cyanide pill thing, right?”

Intent blue eyes locked with hers. “This is
no joking matter.”

Damn. He was serious. Chambers was dead. “He
actually killed himself?” Chambers’ words about Crane’s death
filtered through the haze of disturbing thoughts. “He said Crane
was murdered.”

“I think Crane killed himself to send me a
message.”

Alex shifted slightly, annoyed that the
continued hardness in his voice somehow made her even more
interested in
him
rather than his words, especially
considering the subject matter. But there was just something about
him. “Why would he want to do that?”

“Because he used to be CIA. He was my mentor
when I was first recruited by the Agency. After he retired,” Murphy
shrugged those broad shoulders, “he changed. Cut off all ties to
the people who were once his friends. I thought he was dead until
his name surfaced two weeks ago. I think he realized he couldn’t
continue to sell out his country and the only way out was
death.”

Alex straightened, held up her hands for him
to wait a minute. “So, he killed himself with no care as to who
would find the lens.”

“He knew we were looking for him and his
associates. By killing himself he gave us his position. He knew
we’d come and the others would run scared.” That intense gaze
searched hers a moment before he continued. “It’s not as imperative
that I retrieve the technology as it is that I ensure no one else
does. Chambers won’t be the only one looking. He was an enemy of
the United States and that’s as much as I can tell you.”

“Why don’t you tell me what the technology
does? Exactly.” What the hell could be so important about something
that small?

Murphy hesitated, but not for long. “It’s the
transfer link for any computer system it supports. Information,
satellites, the Internet, the reach is boundless. A simple implant
at the base of the brain and the optic nerve allows full control of
the technology.”

Sweet Jesus. “So all you want is the contact
lens, right?” Maybe all she needed to do, now that she’d verified
his identity, was to turn the evidence over to him.

On one condition, she decided, that Hitch’s
killer was brought to justice.

Before she could say as much, he spoke.
“There’s a little more to it than that.”

A new rush of apprehension worked its way
under her skin. “What’s a little more?”

“Since Crane and Chambers are dead, that
leaves me with no way to determine who’s running this rogue
operation they were involved in. It’s my job to secure the
technology and to shut down the operation, including all the
players. Crane led me here but that’s not enough.”