One Night Standoff - By Delores Fossen Page 0,28

to Clayton so she could see what was inside the folder. Hopefully no more surprises. She’d already had enough of those for one day.

The first thing in the folder was a report saying that Quentin had disappeared from WITSEC five months earlier and included accounts of the three sightings of him since then. One of those sightings had been on a gas-station security camera in San Antonio. Another at a bank in Austin, where he’d accessed a safe deposit box. Probably where he had some cash stashed.

The third sighting, however, put her heart in her throat.

Oh, mercy.

Two days before Clayton was shot at the diner, Quentin had been spotted outside her house in Eagle Pass. Clayton lifted the report and underneath were copies of photos.

Definitely Quentin.

And he was skulking around her house. Specifically, outside her back door.

“Who took these photos?” Lenora immediately asked, and she picked them up to have a better look.

Clayton put his attention on the rest of the report. “Says here that the task force had you under surveillance. For your safety.” His tone was skeptical, and for a good reason. The leader of the task force, James, was one of their other suspects. “And an agent took the pictures.”

She wanted to curse. “I guess it didn’t occur to James to tell me that someone from my past, a man who might want to harm me, was hanging around my house in the dark.”

And maybe even doing the break-ins.

Someone certainly had. And they hadn’t just hung around. The person had broken in, destroyed an expensive antique panel and vandalized the place.

Why hadn’t this been reported to the cops who were investigating the break-ins? But Lenora didn’t need anyone to answer that.

She knew.

If James or anyone else on the task force had reported it, then it would have blown Quentin’s identity in WITSEC. Of course, Quentin had already skipped out of WITSEC by then, but maybe James hadn’t reported it because he would have had to explain her association with Quentin. That might be classified.

But still...

Lenora got up from the table. “I need to talk to James. And Quentin.”

Clayton was already shaking his head when he turned to her, and he stood, as well. “Too dangerous.”

“Not if I take precautions.” She had to tamp down the frustration just so she could speak. How dare James do this to her and not even have the guts to tell her when he was face-to-face with her.

None of the lawmen or even Stella looked as if they were willing to help her contact the men. That wouldn’t stop her.

“Do you even know how to get in touch with Quentin?” Clayton asked.

“Not directly, but maybe I can still reach him. Before he went into WITSEC, when he still thought we were on the same side, Quentin said if I ever needed to get in touch with him, I should send him an email. He apparently set up the account just for the two of us to use, and he gave me the password.”

“And did you ever use it?” Clayton wanted to know.

“No,” she quickly answered. “Never had a reason to communicate with him.” Her gaze snapped back to the photo of him on her porch. “Until now.”

Clayton huffed. “How would emailing him help?”

“An email might not tell me anything, but talking to him would.” She waited a moment until the groans died down. “I could try to make contact with him and then give him the number of a prepaid cell that he couldn’t trace.”

Yet more groans, grumbles and plenty of raised eyebrows.

“I’ve known Quentin for years, and I think I can tell if he’s lying when I ask him if he wants me dead. If he’s not behind this, then James probably is.”

“We have a secure laptop so she can send the email,” Harlan offered. “A burner, too,” he added, using the slang term for a prepaid phone.

Clayton shook his head, apparently ready to nix it, but Dallas spoke first. “It might take us days or longer to find Quentin so we can question him. This might be the fastest way to get answers. And it doesn’t put Lenora or you in danger.”

It was a good argument, but Clayton still didn’t jump to agree. When he finally cursed, she knew he’d just conceded.

Harlan left the dining room, and a few minutes later he came back with both a phone and a laptop. He turned on the cell, booted up the laptop and went to a secure server. She put in the