Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) - Karen Rose Page 0,38

back under the Eden rock from where he’d crawled.

Squaring his shoulders, Belmont slowed his pace. In one hand, he carried a guitar case, which he slid across the floorboards of a box truck with a sign proclaiming him to be a plumber.

Tom’s throat thickened as he recognized the truck despite the bogus plumbing sign. It had belonged to the man Belmont had murdered a month ago as he’d fled the scene at Dunsmuir. Where he’d murdered five FBI agents, executed Ephraim Burton, and shot Amos.

The surveillance camera caught the license plates as the truck peeled out of the parking lot, kicking up gravel and dust. “Pause it, please,” Tom requested. He then took a photo of the monitor with his phone, capturing the license plate number. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll still need a copy of the footage. Sergeant Howell has my contact info.”

The CSU tech gave him a little salute. “Of course.”

Croft relinquished Gray’s chair. “Thank you, gentlemen.”

“Should we be watching for this man to return?” Gray asked. “My clients in the building are understandably shaken at hearing that a gunman was on the roof.”

“Probably not,” Croft said. “He was aiming at a specific target. It’s unlikely that the person he wanted to shoot will return.”

Gray nodded grimly. “Thanks. I’ll let my clients know.”

“Tell them that we said your surveillance system is excellent,” Tom said. “So many cameras get a grainy feed that’s all but useless. Yours is crystal clear.”

Gray dipped his head, his expression appreciative. “Now if I can only get the employees to stop propping that door open to take a smoke, my life would be peachy.”

Tom frowned. “Was the door alarmed?”

“It was supposed to have been,” Gray said with a scowl. “That door is entry by key card only. The alarm should have alerted everyone when it remained unsecured. Someone deactivated it, and I’m going to find out who.”

“I don’t think it was your guy, though,” the CSU tech offered. “He just walked in and didn’t seem to touch anything but that guitar case.”

“Unless he planned it,” Gray mused. “He could have come earlier and set everything up.”

It was possible, although unlikely unless they had a mole in the field office who had alerted him that the women were visiting this optometrist. The security footage would reveal if Belmont had been there earlier. Tom gave both men his business card. “Let me know if you think of anything else.”

This time Croft opened the door for him, waiting until they were alone in the Bureau SUV before sighing. “Definitely Belmont. How did he know where they’d be this morning?”

“I don’t know,” Tom said grimly, starting the engine. “Either he followed them—which means he has a view of the Sokolovs’ house—or we have a leak.”

Croft shook her head. “Rodriguez is a good agent. He’s careful to a fault, but we’ll check his vetting process. I’m more inclined to believe Belmont has eyes on the Sokolovs’ house.”

“Me too.” He pulled the SUV out of the parking lot, looking for the stolen truck even though he knew it was long gone. “That was the truck he stole a month ago.”

“The one he killed that farmer over.” Croft’s expression said that she, too, knew exactly what he’d done for the farmer’s family. “Whose family someone anonymously donated money to.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” Tom lied.

She shook her head. “I’m afraid for you, Hunter. This job will chew you up and spit you out, especially if you wear your heart on your sleeve like you do.”

“Have no idea what you’re talking about. Can you call in the truck’s license plate?”

Her eye roll said that she was unimpressed with his very clumsy subject change. “Sure. Send me that photo you took with your phone.”

Tom unlocked his phone and handed it to Croft. “Check my photos.”

She lifted one eyebrow. “You’re just handing me your phone,” she said, her disbelief clear. “I thought you hacker types were a lot more paranoid.”

“I’m driving. But that’s my work phone,” he told her. “Everything on there is stuff you already know.”

She flashed him a delighted grin. “I knew you’d have multiple phones. How many?”

He debated answering, then shrugged. “I carry at least three at all times. My work phone, my personal phone, and a burner.”

“Huh. So if I need a burner . . . You got extras?”

Tom chuckled. “Of course. You can choose any color as long as it’s black.”

“Then I guess I’ll take a black one. Is it okay if I text myself this photo?”

“Sure. Text