Until It's You (24 page)

It took her less than ten minutes to write up the express request for a warrant. From there, it was straight back to interrogation.

They were there before he was ready for it. Carter stopped outside the door and dug through her pocket, then pulled out a thin white disc he recognized immediately as Nvigorate.

She cocked a brow up at him. "Sorry I didn't offer you any, this is my last one."

He watched as she put it to her lips and inhaled.

"It's really good stuff, by the way. I have no idea how Andersen prefers coffee."

Landon kept his face blank. "How do you know Kristina prefers coffee?"

Carter smiled. “We all do a little research, don’t we?”

“I suppose we do.”

Carter held his gaze for a moment, then gave a last shrug. All expression fell from her face. She opened the door and stood aside. Landon walked in.

The room seemed even smaller than before. Blank white walls with cameras at the middle of each side. Bruman and her attorney sat at the same dark metal desk. Now that he looked at it, it might not even be metal. Might be one of those metallic polymers they used for imitation metal. This one was dark and shiny like onyx. Its sheen was unblemished thanks to the smudge-resistant coating they had started using on these. The look was almost like a prototype you might see on a screen.

Landon took a seat on his old-fashioned folding chair. Across from him, Bruman wore an angry scowl on her heavily made up face, her red-brown lips turned nastily. She wouldn't even look at him. Beside her, her silver-templed attorney looked ready to pounce.

Carter took her seat beside him and didn't waste any time. “The FBI has received information that you’re cooperating in a criminal operation to kidnap Landon Tatum,” she said.

The attorney reeled back as Carter continued.

"The FBI is currently in the process of getting a warrant to seize your communication device and extract information contained both therein and within the cloud. That will include identification information for all calls incoming and outgoing, as well as messages. I don't anticipate any trouble with this request. In fact, I am confident the warrant will come through before we are done here. While we wait I want to ask: do you think we're going to find anything of interest?"

Bruman stared back defiantly. "This sounds like a dreadful invasion of privacy far beyond what I agreed to in coming here."

Carter leaned back. "However dreadful you may think it is, the agency believes it's necessary to our investigation. I anticipate the court will agree."

"I will be having a word with the company's contacts in the Defense Department," she said. "This treatment is most unusual."

"Be my guest."

Bruman turned to her attorney. "Surely I do not have to surrender my comm?"

The man's brows went up over his beady eyes, then he turned to Carter. "I thought we were here to discuss a delayed shipment, Agent Carter. It seems that was merely a pretense."

Carter shook her head. "The case has evolved. At this point, we believe conspiracy to kidnapping is also a relevant charge."

"So is she being charged or merely questioned?"

"At this point it's an investigation. But that may change pending information found on the comm." She turned briefly to Landon, then leaned forward across the desk. "So I'll ask again: will we find anything?"

"I see no incentive to cooperate any further in this voluntary questioning at this time."

Carter leaned back in her seat. Landon could practically feel her eye roll. She was really selling this hard.

"You and I both know that buys you about thirty minutes," she said.

The attorney pressed his lips together. Landon watched the man carefully. He knew that Carter had him on this data if there was something there, and he had no idea what that data might be. That had to make any defense attorney nervous.

His eyes went to Bruman and his throat tightened up into a knot.

She'd gone glassy-eyed, like a blackout drunk at the end of the night. This was not normal at all.

"Do you really want to piss me off right now?" Carter said.

"My client has rights under the law, Agent Carter, and I intend to pursue those rights by ending this voluntary interview immediately."

Landon swallowed hard, unable to take his eyes from Bruman's face. It had become a death mask, frozen in place. It was like she hadn't even heard the attorney.

In a spasm, she turned to the side and bent down, disappearing under the desk.

His fists clenched. What was going on? He turned to Carter to see if she had noticed this, but her eyes were locked on the attorney. That left Bruman free.

Suddenly, an otherworldly sound of someone breathing heavily filled the room.

It took him a moment to place the noise, even though it was coming from right in front of him. She popped up above the desk again with panic buzzing behind her eyes. Her mouth hung open like a fish out of water. Very little air seemed to be finding its way to her lungs. 

Both Carter and the attorney shot out of their chairs with a loud scraping sound.

“This is intimidation," the attorney cried. "You're causing my client to have a panic attack!"

Landon ignored him and leaned forward, still seated. He tried to catch Bruman's eye. But Bruman's eyes were locked on the pristine, black table in front of her. He swallowed hard. This wasn't a panic attack. He didn't know what it was, but it was something other than normal panic. He'd seen that before.

It was then that he noticed the black case in front of her. Her eyes weren't locked on the table. They were on that case.

That case was the size of a comm. And it looked like . . .

That wasn't a case.

Carter leaned forward. "What are you doing?" she cried.

Landon's heart fell as he realized what he was seeing. That wasn't just a case. That was one of those Wipers sold by privacy freaks. When he squinted, he could see the button at its center. A button that, if pressed, would wipe the comm's cloud data instantly, along with making the device permanently inoperable. 

A button Bruman pressed.

Just like that.

Amazing what destruction could look like.

Her eyes rose in slow motion and met his, just for an instant. They were cold and calculating.

"It was business, Mr. Tatum," she said quietly. "I'm sure you understand."

His breath went still. He didn't understand.

But Bruman continued on, transitioning to Carter, her lips twisting nastily. The death mask was gone, snapped in half. This felt like another person.

"I suppose you know what you have to do," she said, every syllable a sneer.

She put her wrists together and slammed them on the table without another word. 

Landon reeled. His eyes went to Bruman's attorney. The gray-haired man looked distraught.

Then his attention went back to Bruman's face. The
force
of her conviction on this was shocking. Why was she doing this? What could they find that she would want to avoid?

Destroying evidence like that right in Carter’s face...this was basically a confession to everything that had been talked about. Kidnapping. The shipment of Phobos. Attempted murder, even. Why not at least take her chances with a trial?

"Jenna Bruman, I am taking you into custody on suspicion of obstruction of justice."

From somewhere to his left, those words came. Probably Carter. Landon sat in his seat as activity swirled around him. People may have entered the room, or maybe not. Eventually someone tugged at his arm and he stood, went back into those sterile, labyrinthine halls.

It didn't add up. Betrayal he could understand, stomach even. But
why?
What did she have to gain from getting him out of the picture? What could she want?

Someone always wants something. What did she
want?

The cafe disappeared in a blur as she worked.

Or rather, she had faith it was still there, but where before it had been a welcome white noise distraction, it ceased to be even that. Nothing—not the cafe, not the baristas, not the background music, not the ceramic table, not even her body—existed. The only things she was conscious of were the screens she flashed through in building her case.

She'd built up half a dozen points on Brantley that would need following up if Carter could give her anything. Just one confirmation and pieces would fall in place. There were potential connections all over the place with Moonlight. Too much sketchiness going on for it to be coincidence. Something was there, even if it didn't involve the case. Which it probably did.

And she still hadn't even found another link with the motel. That place was incredibly suspicious, even outside of what had happened earlier. How were they staying open? Money laundering? Seemed dumb with all the regulations on motels, but if you had the right contacts in the city . . . 

Her comm buzzed from somewhere else.

She looked around for it and felt a sudden displacement at her disconnect from the screen. Should have hooked her comm into her tab.

Finally, she found the device. It was Landon.

Excitement flared through her body as she put the device to her ear. “I think I have something here with Brantley," she said by way of greeting. "It's connected to Moonlight. He has a step-brother who—”

“Don't bother.”

Kristina froze. The lights in the cafe shone bright but her vision narrowed for a moment and the whole world was in motion, all of it all around her. She blinked and realized her breaths were coming short. She gripped the comm tight.

“What do you mean?” she asked weakly. "Don't bother why?"

“She's guilty." He took a deep, audible breath on the other line. "They threatened her with extracting the info from her comm and she pulled out one of those Wipers and destroyed the thing right in Carter's face."

Kristina tried to picture it. The audacity of doing that...those were illegal to even carry into an FBI office. What could she have been thinking?

"But I have all this material on Brantley—"

"It's over, Kristina. I was there. Nobody does that just on principle. Certainly not Ms. Bruman."

She blinked. The sounds of the coffee shop—clashing dishes, whirring of the coffee grinder, the low-key music—happened around her. The world continued.

"But why?" she asked.

A delay.

"I don't know," he said. "She said it was business. Maybe the contents of the comm would make things worse for her somehow."

"But if she was protecting someone . . ."

"Who, though? Brantley? Do you really think she would take the fall for him?"

The two of them were silent for a moment. Possibilities raced through her mind like cars in the night, but she left them all unsaid. Nothing was going to get through to him right now.

“So,” Kristina said finally. “What now?”

She could practically hear his shrug. He seemed to be considering his answer. “I...don’t know exactly."

"Do you think this is over?"

"For now, yes. Even if someone
was
looking for Bruman, they would have to see this as a golden opportunity to lay low and regroup."

She took a deep breath. There was something here with Brantley...but if Bruman were connected to Brantley, there is no way she would take the fall for him. No. Way. Brantley wasn't the type to inspire loyalty like that.

"Wake up tomorrow and begin managing the public relations fallout," Landon continued. "I imagine. Get ready for that culling we talked about at dinner . . .”

He trailed off, the conviction in his voice falling with very syllable. It was a feeling she understood well.

Kristina closed her eyes. Maybe this was over. For now, anyway.

“Where are you?” she asked.

Horns blared through her comm. Landon didn’t answer.

“Landon? You’ve just had a big shock. Where are you?”

Another deep breath. “This is tough to swallow.”

“Landon, where are you? I want to see you.”

“I’ll pick you up," he said. Some conviction had returned to his voice. "Where did you get set up?”

She looked out the window, as if he were about to show up in an instant. “Camus. It’s an espresso bar at Halsted and Grand.”

“Halsted and Grand. I’ll be outside in ten.”

The call ended and Kristina brought the comm away from her ear. She bit her lip and looked down at the ceramic cup that had held her latte. The inside had crusted over with the residue left over after she’d finished the drink. She studied its golden-brown hue, then looked over to her tablet at her notes on Brantley.

There had been something to that connection, she just knew it.

Shaking her head, she packed her stuff up and then stood up to get a glass of water to sip on while she waited for Landon. Absently, she wondered what he had in mind.

She barely had time to get her glass of water before he was outside. Her comm buzzed and she hurried out. It had been less than five minutes since the call.

She came out into the orange glow of the sun setting in the city, bathing everything in the kind of light she felt at the time she needed to appreciate. Landon's old, gray Audi waited for her, with him barely visible through the cars tinted windows as he leaned back in the driver’s seat like it was a rental he was trying to get comfortable in. After a last look at the setting sun, she rushed to the curb, opened the passenger door, and got in.

She gave him a quick once over to get an idea of his mental state as she settled into her seat.

The wrinkles around his eyes said it all. It wasn’t good. More than anything, it looked like shock, and a struggle to both contain that emotion and come to terms with its cause.

“You were fast,” she said, once she was in and had her seatbelt fastened. She just needed something to say. “I thought I’d be waiting a little longer.”

He appeared to force his face into a smile by sheer strength of will and flashed it at her quickly before returning his eyes to the road. “I can be quick,” he said. "Sometimes. Not here, obviously, but sometimes."

"What do you mean?"

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to mope."

"I want to know."

His face scrunched up, then he shook his head. "With Ms. Bruman. It's just...incredible, really."

Of course. It was the answer she'd been expecting, but it was better if he said it.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It could happen to anyone."

"I'm not 'anyone.'
I
should have seen it. And I dragged you into this whole mess, too."

She clenched her fists and shook her head. "It turned out alright," she said. "Me being a part of this didn't hurt anyone."

His face resumed its previous scowl, and he shook his head. Kristina grasped for a different conversation topic, desperate to keep him from stewing. Then he would probably apologize, and the self-loathing cycle would continue. She knew that cycle well.

“So what are you going to do with this car?” she tried.

He tapped the steering wheel with a dumb expression. “This? I hadn’t thought about it yet. Do you want it?”

She squirmed in her seat. What was she going to do with her car, anyway? She'd have to go see if it was still at the beach now...probably impounded somewhere. “I...not really. Have to figure out my own situation when it comes to that.”

“Right. I guess I’ll take it to a dealer and sell it. May as well. Don’t know when I’ll get around to it though.”

“Can’t you have an assistant do it?”

A smile broke out on his face.  “I’m still not quite sure how much of this story I’m going to be telling the world, to be honest. The meeting with my PR team tomorrow will be very interesting.”

“Not even an assistant?”

“Until just now, Bruman was my assistant. I will need to either promote one of her underlings or hire someone from the outside. Haven’t decided on that either.”

“I’m sorry, Landon.”

He turned his head. “No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been blind to something right under my nose.”

“It's already a part of the past,” she said. “The important thing now is we have an answer to what the hell has been going on.”

He nodded. They drove in silence for a while longer. The weight of their experience together began its lift off her shoulders. It was Bruman the whole time. She could quit worrying, at least for a while . . .

“Where are we going?” she asked tentatively.

He looked over at her, his perfect thing lips parted slightly. The spark behind his coal black eyes flashed dangerously.

"I've been thinking about that myself, actually," he said.

The huskiness in his voice caught her off guard. It was like something between the two of them had been communicated without ever bubbling to the surface for either. Her entire body felt very warm.

Her mouth was so dry that she couldn't get any words out. So he took charge.

“Where would you like to go?” he asked.

In the back of her mind, roaring to the front like a train, she knew exactly where she wanted to be. She gaped at him, trying to figure out how to say what she felt. Think of a smooth line, like she had a few nights ago at The Velvet. Where had her brain gone?

“You can see the sunrise over Lake Michigan from my penthouse,” Landon said, one brow cocked up. “I would love to show it to you.”