“Same story. Repeatedly,” Malcolm said, not looking nearly as happy as he should, considering he’d been declared the world’s greatest lover at least twice by Pippa during the interrogation. His irritation served to cheer Angus up, however.
“I figured.” Angus had asked the same questions a myriad of different ways, and Pippa’s answers had been consistent. “I told you to trust me.”
Mal paused. “She wouldn’t have gone in there with you if I didn’t trust you.”
Well, now. That was true. Angus gave a short nod. His team was coming together. Excellent. Then he noticed the googly eyes between Malcolm and Pippa. Oh, she looked pissed and he looked determined, but close enough. Angus needed to separate those two to get shit done.
“Pippa, please go through all the photos Orchid got for us, as well as anything and anybody you remember from your time with the family. If Isaac calls on the burner phone, answer and say you’re driving as fast as you can and will reach him sometimeaftermidnight tonight. Maybe more toward tomorrow morning.”
Pippa rocked back on her heels. “You want me to show up on my birthday.”
“You’re not showing up at all,” Malcolm said, his face set hard.
Angus rubbed his chin and tried to focus. “Isaac will think there’s something prophetic about you arriving on your birthday.” He held up his hand before Malcolm could object. “Supposedlyarriving on her birthday.” Right now wasn’t the time to argue about it.
“Wh-what about Trixie?” Pippa asked, her eyes a wide blue.
“She’s fine as long as you’re not there,” Angus said. “She’s leverage and he knows it.” The key was Pippa’s birthday. Isaac wanted her there for his plan. Oh, he’d probably go through with the attack without her, but she was the prize. He wanted her there, and he wanted her to pay. Right now, the bastard had to be kept off balance, whether anybody here wanted it that way or not.
Mal shoved his hands in his pockets, no doubt to keep from reaching for Pippa. “I have to go back in. It’s our only chance of figuring out the location of this attack. He already has people in place.”
Angus nodded. “Yeah. I know.” He needed to get a bead on Malcolm to make sure his head was still in the game. The guy’s feelings for Pippa might get him killed. “You call Isaac and let him know you have a lead on both Eagle and Leroy, and that you’ll be in touch as soon as you can.” That would appease the cult leader temporarily.
His phone buzzed, and he read the text. “A buddy with the Boston PD has agreed to meet with us in DC. He’s there on some other case, and he has the file on the two bodies found outside Boston. Raider and Mal, you’re with me.”
Mal started to object.
Angus held up a hand. “I need everyone concentrating. You can deal with any shit between you and Pippa later.”
Mal glowered but held his tongue. This time.
Angus ignored him and stepped onto the rickety elevator, wincing when Raider and Mal followed, and the entire car dropped several inches. A plan was starting to form in his brain that Malcolm wasn’t going to like. At all. It’d help to have Nari’s take on both Pippa and Mal. As a shrink, she was the best. So long as she was shrinking other people’s heads and not his.
The elevator doors closed.
Raider leaned against the wall and cleared his throat. “We could just take out Isaac and bring in his entire family.”
Angus shook his head. “He has women in place somewhere and has for years. If we take him, they might have orders to go through with the attack, and we don’t know who or where.” For now, he’d talk to the Boston detective.
He hated having his hands tied like this.
* * *
Pippa kept the panic attacks at bay by concentrating.
It was okay to be around these people. They were in a basement, protected by walls. They were good people, Malcolm’s friends.
And, oddly enough, they were careful not to crowd her. That alone let her relax a little bit.
After hours of trying, she had been able to identify two of the women in the pictures, but so far, Brigid had been unsuccessful in tracking them down in the real world. They surely had false identifications, and apparently, facial recognition software wasn’t as miraculous in reality as it was on television.
Figured.
It had to be late afternoon. She sat in Mal’s chair in the depressing middle desk area of the HDD, petting Roscoe, who had his head in her lap. Wolfe worked over papers on his adjacent desk, keeping a close eye on her, his kitten sleeping peacefully near the stapler he’d found in a drawer.
“Do you really think Angus can protect me from being prosecuted for killing Mark?” she asked. “My prints are definitely on the knife.” If all else failed, Isaac would definitely set her up. She’d told both Mal and Isaac the whole story, and shockingly, it seemed they had believed her.
“Yeah,” Wolfe said. “Nobody has your prints on file, I don’t think. Besides, I understand why you were scared about it all these years, but it’s the least of your worries right now.”
