Page 22 of The Agent

“Hernandez isn’t going to agree.” She stared at him in dismay. “He’s going to think I helped Patrick put the money in the account.”

“You’re going to call Hernandez?”

She looked surprised. “I have to. Obviously they lied and didn’t freeze the account like they said they would. Or maybe it was the bank’s mistake. Either way, I have to tell them. I’m going to do it in person, so hopefully Hernandez will see I really didn’t have anything to do with this.”

“And if he doesn’t believe you?”

“Then he doesn’t believe me,” she repeated in a flat voice. “I still have to let them know.”

They already know.

Caleb drew a gulpful of air into his burning lungs. This was it. The time to tell her the truth. He opened his mouth, ready to do it, to bite the bullet and tell her he was a federal agent, but suddenly she placed her hand on his arm and said, “Will you come with me to the police station?”

He faltered. “You want me there?”

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but I don’t want to face him alone. Will you come?”

In a hoarse voice, he said, “Of course I will. But first I need to tell you—”

She cut him off with a desperate “Thank you” as she stumbled to her feet. “Let me just take a quick shower and then we can go.”

Frustration rose inside of him. “Marley, wait—”

“You should go next door and change while I’m upstairs,” she interrupted, a faint smile on her lips as she studied his wrinkled shirt.

“I will, but first—”

“I’ll meet you out front in fifteen minutes.” And then she bounded out of the kitchen.

Caleb stared at the empty doorway, listening to the sound of her footsteps thudding up the stairs. Damn it, why hadn’t she let him finish? He needed to tell her everything before they went to the police station—if she even desired his company after the truth came out.

With a sigh, he stood up, realizing the truth would yet again have to wait. Until Marley came out of the shower, anyway. The sigh became a discouraged groan, which he tamped down as he headed toward the front entrance.

Might as well go next door and change his damn shirt. At least then he wouldn’t look like a slob while he faced her wrath.

* * *

M ARLEY HAD JUST PEELED OFF her pajamas when a disconcerting flash of clarity sliced through her. What had she been thinking, asking Caleb to accompany her to the police station? She’d only been thinking about herself, she realized as she sagged against the bathroom wall.

She suddenly felt like kicking herself. God, talk about overdependent.

As much as she’d appreciate having Caleb’s support while she faced Hernandez, she knew she couldn’t ask that of him.

He’d already been present for the last confrontation with the detective, and they hadn’t even known each other that well then.

She didn’t want to keep dragging him into this mess.

It wasn’t fair to Caleb. Patrick had been her mistake.

And she was the only one who could fix it.

Anyway, she didn’t want him to view her as some damsel in distress that he constantly needed to rescue. They’d just started seeing each other, for Pete’s sake.

Drawing in a long breath, she left the bathroom and quickly got dressed. She would go next door and tell Caleb she needed to do this alone. He didn’t deserve to spend his morning in a police station.

She hurried downstairs, slipped into her sneakers and flew out the front door, approaching the Strathorn house with determined strides.

On the porch, she opened the front door without bothering to ring the doorbell. She already knew Caleb was home, and considering he’d been staying at her house for the past two days, she hardly thought he’d mind if she let herself in.

“Caleb?” she called as she walked into the house.

His voice drifted down from upstairs. “I’ll be down in a second.”

He sounded strained, panicked even, but it wasn’t his tone that made her freeze. When he’d spoken, she’d heard a clatter, as if he’d dropped something—but the expletive that had followed wasn’t uttered by Caleb. The voice had been deeper, raspier.

An alarm bell went off in her head. As her palms grew damp, she approached the staircase and peered up. The second-floor hallway seemed to be empty. Did he have someone up there?

With wariness wrapping around her spine like strands of ivy, she climbed the stairs, reaching the second-floor landing just as Caleb popped out of the bedroom at the very end of the hall.

“Hey,” he said, looking frazzled. “I was just getting dressed and—”

“Who’s in there?” she cut in, narrowing her eyes.

He hesitated, only for a second, but it was hesitation just the same. “What? There’s nobody here. I was—”

Marley brushed past him, unable to let go of the misgiving pulsing in her bloodstream. “I heard someone, Caleb.”

She headed for the doorway he’d just exited, knowing she was probably being ridiculous but completely helpless to stop the sudden onslaught of suspicion. This was a total invasion of privacy. Maybe she hadn’t heard another voice at all. Maybe she was—

She froze as she entered the bedroom.

Her hands dropped to her sides, her entire body growing colder than a glacial ice cap. All the oxygen rushed from her lungs, leaving her breathless.

The room was empty, but that wasn’t what shocked her to the core.

Oh no, it was the computer monitors sitting on the long desk pushed up under the window.

At least half a dozen of them. A couple had switched into screen-saver mode, but the rest…

She stumbled forward. Oh, God. The rest displayed very clear images of her house.

Her front porch. Her backyard. Her kitchen. Her bedroom window.

Oh, God.

Bile rose in her throat. Caleb had been watching her.

But why? Why the hell would he— She stiffened again when her gaze landed on the photograph taped to one of the monitors.

Her pulse shrieked in her ears as she moved closer. As she looked at the photo and saw Patrick Grier’s face peering back at her.

She stared at the picture for a very long time, fighting back wave after wave of nausea.

A noise came from behind, causing her to spin around and face Caleb.

Their gazes collided, and she stood there, watching all the color seep out of his face. Watching as a thick cloud of guilt settled over his blue eyes.

“Marley,” he choked out.

Her fingers curled into two tight fists. “You son of a bitch.”