Page 24 of The Agent

T WO HOURS LATER , M ARLEY SAT on her living-room couch, stiff as a board, unable to erase the memory of Patrick’s vile message.

She and Gwen had called the police immediately, and officers had turned the nurses’ locker room into a crime scene, dusting Marley’s locker for fingerprints and questioning everyone who’d been working on the floor that day.

So far, none of the hospital staff had admitted to seeing Patrick.

She fought a wave of nausea as she pictured what had happened. He’d waltzed into her place of work, strolled into the locker room. Opened her locker. Touched her things. She wanted to throw up just thinking about it. Was he fearless, or just crazy?

Crazy, obviously. And apparently enraged.

She shivered and wondered what on earth she’d done to earn Patrick’s rage.

The disgusting message was so different from the sweet email he’d sent only days ago.

Something had changed during that time, something had infuriated Patrick so much that he’d decided to paint a target on her.

Fortunately, the police had decided to take this matter seriously.

Her house was swarming with law-enforcement officers.

Hernandez was in the armchair next to the couch, a notepad in his hand so he could take her statement.

Three other officers from the SDPD hovered behind him, while three DEA agents, including Caleb and his partner, stood near the door.

Caleb’s partner had introduced himself as AJ Callaghan, and Marley had been angry just shaking his hand, especially when she learned he’d been next door with Caleb this entire time.

Caleb had reacted with a brief flash of guilt during the introduction with AJ, but now he leaned against the bookshelf, his face completely expressionless.

She couldn’t bring herself to look at him for more than a few seconds. He wore a long-sleeved black shirt and snug black trousers. The butt of a gun poked out of the holster on his hip. The weapon was a reminder of his true identity.

He hadn’t said a word to her since entering the house, but concern creased his handsome features.

How concerned had he been when he’d slept with her while pretending to be someone else?

She shoved aside the bitter thought and focused on Hernandez’s latest question. “It’s the picture from his wallet,” she said for the second time. “I gave it to him a few days after he proposed. You can tell from the creases that it was folded a few times to fit somewhere small.”

Hernandez jotted a note, then looked up at her with hard eyes. “And you say the locker was that way when you opened it?”

“Yes.” She gritted her teeth, wondering how many times she’d have to answer the same questions. “My last shift was yesterday morning, and I didn’t go back to the hospital until eight o’clock tonight. When I left yesterday, my locker looked normal.”

Hernandez made a harsh sound under his breath. Annoyance pricked at her skin like tiny little needles. For the love of God. What would it take to convince this man she was innocent, that she was the victim?

She opened her mouth to ask him just that, only to be interrupted by Caleb’s husky voice. “Detective Hernandez?” he called from behind. “May I speak to you for a moment?”

Looking irritated, Hernandez excused himself and made his way over to Caleb.

As Marley watched, the two men went out into the hall, heads bent together, voices low.

Whatever Caleb had to say, the detective didn’t like it.

She could tell from the way his thick black eyebrows bunched together.

Then Hernandez looked at the ground and his shoulders slumped.

What was Caleb saying? Whatever it was must have worked, because when Hernandez returned, his normally frosty tone had thawed considerably.

“Ms. Kincaid, do you have any idea what this message means?”

“I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m a whore,” she said dryly.

“Yes, but do you know why he might think that? Do you have a new boyfriend?”

She forced herself not to glance over at Caleb. “No.”

“Are you casually seeing anyone?”

She hesitated. “I did have a date two nights ago.”

Hernandez leaned forward. “Where did you go on the date, which restaurant? Perhaps Grier saw you with another man and—”

“We didn’t go out,” she cut in. “We stayed in and ordered take-out.”

For a moment she was tempted to stand up, point directly at Caleb, and yell, “It was him! We slept together that night, too.”

Instinctively, she knew to keep her mouth shut.

It wouldn’t look good for Caleb if she announced his involvement with her.

But she wasn’t simply covering for him. The truth made her look like a total idiot, and she was tired of Hernandez glaring at her with that belittling and antagonistic expression.

Right now, he just looked disappointed. “You stayed in,” he repeated. “Okay, well, my gut tells me Grier knows about that date, Ms. Kincaid. Somehow, he heard about it, or maybe—”

“He’s close by,” Caleb stated.

The room fell quiet at his words. Hernandez turned to Caleb. “You think so?”

Confidence lined Caleb’s face. “He has to be. We know from the email that he had planned to reunite with Marley soon, and he’s smart. He wouldn’t risk walking up to her door, not unless he knew for sure what the law-enforcement situation was.”

“He’d need to scout the area first,” Hernandez agreed.

“I think he’s doing more than that. He’s watching her. He knows she had another man over—” there was a slight crack in Caleb’s voice “—and in order to see that, he had to be close.”

A tremor ran along Marley’s skin. The notion that Patrick was lurking outside somewhere, watching her, was too frightening to contemplate.

God, would she ever be rid of that man? She wished she’d never gone into his hospital room all those months ago, never agreed to that first date, never opened her heart to him.

“Okay, he can’t be next door, since AJ and I have occupied that space,” Caleb said in a brisk voice. He glanced at Marley. “How well do you know your other neighbors?”

Since he’d spoken to her directly, she had no choice but to meet his eyes. Damn. Why did he have to be so attractive? Her heart shouldn’t skip a beat anymore when she looked at him.

“Don and Melinda live in the house on the other side of mine,” she answered.

“They have three kids, but they’re all away at camp for the summer.

Next to them is Kim, she’s a widow.” She racked her brain for more names and faces.

“Across the street is Mrs. White, she lives alone, kind of grumpy all the time but she can be sweet. I’m not sure about anyone else. ”

“Do you know if any of the ones you mentioned are on vacation, like the Strathorns?” Caleb asked.

“I don’t think so. I saw Don and his wife the other day, and I saw Kim yesterday when I checked the mail.” She paused. “I haven’t seen Mrs. White in a few days, come to think of it, but she hardly ever leaves the house.”

Caleb and the other men sprang to action before she even finished talking.

She tried to hide her admiration as she watched Caleb bark orders at everyone.

“We canvass each house one by one, only the ones that have a direct visual on Marley’s.

Teams of two. Hernandez, you’re with me.

Officer Thompson,” he said to the thin, uniformed blond man, “you stay with Ms. Kincaid. Radio us if there are any disturbances.”

“Yes, sir.”

Marley’s chest tightened with alarm as Caleb and the others unholstered their weapons.

What if they got hurt? What if Caleb got hurt?

She wanted to urge him to be careful, but clamped her mouth shut.

She refused to let herself feel anything for him.

Besides, he was a trained government agent. He could handle himself.

Still, her heart thudded as she watched him disappear through the doorway, his strides long and determined.

Please don’t let him get hurt.

* * *

C ALEB CROUCHED BESIDE the tall hedges of Lydia White’s two-story Victorian home, silently gesturing for Hernandez to take the back. AJ and the other agents, as well as two of Hernandez’s men, were already approaching the other houses in the vicinity, moving stealthily in the shadows.

With adrenaline coursing through his blood, Caleb held his Glock in his right hand and the radio in his left. He crept to the front door while Hernandez circled the house. As he reached the porch, his radio crackled and AJ’s voice came through. “Kim just let us in. Preparing to search the house.”

The radio went silent. Caleb stood in front of Lydia White’s door and rapped his knuckles on it. There was no doorbell, just a sign on the mailbox that said No Solicitors. He knocked again, but still no answer.

“Lydia White?” he shouted. “This is Agent Caleb Ford with the Drug Enforcement Agency.”

Nothing.

The radio came to life again. “Kim’s house is clear.” A moment later, one of Hernandez’s officers checked in. “Don and Melinda Levenstein’s house is clear.”

“Lydia White,” he said again. “With your permission, I’d like to search your house. There is a possible fugitive on the premises.”

He debated picking the lock when static hissed out from the radio. “Back-door lock’s been jimmied open,” came Hernandez’s grim voice. “I’m going in.”

The adrenaline in his veins flowed harder.

No time to pick a lock. Instead, he kicked Lydia White’s door open with his heavy black boot and then he was in the front hall, shrouded by darkness.

Holding his weapon, he moved through the shadows, clearing the living room and a small den, before rendezvousing with Hernandez in the hallway.

“Kitchen’s clear,” the detective murmured.