Out of the woods, three men emerged, each wearing the same clothes as Nelson—black jeans, brown hunting jacket, boots. But these men wore their gloves, and knit caps, and each had a semiauto machine gun over his shoulder and a handgun strapped to his thigh.
ELEVEN
Owen planted both elbows on his desk and rubbed his face. His laptop played the video surveillance tapes from the lab where Halina had worked seven years before, prior to leaving DARPA.
Working from the distant past forward to the day Halina disappeared, he’d already viewed four months of monotonous tapes. Now, two months prior to her disappearance, the activity had become far more interesting.
The same four sections were displayed on his screen—one corner visualizing a wide-angle shot of Halina’s lab, one of Gorin’s lab, one of Rostov’s lab, and one of a refrigerated storage area they shared. No audio accompanied the files, but Owen didn’t need any. After working with Schaeffer at DARPA before he’d become a senator, and now after watching the man work the Hill, Owen knew Schaeffer’s body language, his facial expressions. He knew his voice cues too, and although those weren’t relevant here, their addition in his head helped Owen understand the intensity of what Rostov, Gorin, and Beloi had gone through.
On the screen, Schaeffer duckwalked into Gorin’s lab. The two men immediately began to argue—Owen believed they were really finishing an argument they’d started the day before. And that’s where the power of the footage lay—being able to watch the progressing tangle of relationships and Schaeffer’s escalating manipulation and abuse.
The frequency with which Schaeffer visited all three labs increased over time. In addition to that common thread, the confrontations between Schaeffer and all three scientists intensified. The only difference he could detect was that the man’s confrontations with Halina took longer to develop—probably because she was far more congenial than the men. Far more eager to please. Definitely the hardest worker and the most brilliant of the three.
Schaeffer had tried befriending Halina first. Mentoring her. When that didn’t get the results he wanted, he’d moved on to seduction—which wasn’t just a joke, it was a sadistic joke. As time moved on, his tactics deteriorated to the same heavy-handed methods he’d used to control Rostov and Gorin. And while Rostov and Gorin had fought back—both verbally and physically—Halina had endured. When it had become too much, she’d escaped.
Owen found the footage increasingly difficult to watch. Day in and day out, Schaeffer’s demands, his rants, he threats continued. He’d become physically abusive with both Rostov and Gorin. Threatened Halina with physical abuse.
The varied responses to Schaeffer’s abuse fascinated Owen. Rostov battled back, full tilt. He and Schaeffer had the most volatile relationship. Rostov’s independence showed in the way he stood up to his so-called boss with both physical and verbal tactics. Gorin, far more interested in the research than people, tried to avoid Schaeffer by ducking out when he knew the other man was coming. By ignoring him when he came in. And when it all became too much, Gorin snapped. Went on destructive rampages through the lab, ransacking the place. Once Schaeffer tossed up his hands and walked out, Gorin would often dissolve into sobs and sit in the corner for hours. Talk about dysfunctional.
But Halina was different. She was strong, but silent. When she argued with Schaeffer, it was controlled, logical, reasonable. She would point out her reports, gesture to her experiments, speak calmly. Halina held it together even as Schaeffer’s anger rose.
Her composure only faltered when Schaeffer lost his temper and threatened violence. And even then, she held herself together until he left the lab. Only then did she break down.
She was a strong woman and Owen had one hell of a lot of respect for her. Considering what she’d been through as a kid, where she’d come from, what she’d accomplished . . . she might have been the strongest woman he’d ever known.
That thought made his gaze drift toward Sofia’s file on the edge of his desk.
No. Sophia was the very strongest woman Owen had ever met. Strong, yet soft. Compassionate. Funny. Smart.
Damn. Why did she have to be involved in this?
Owen paused the lab footage, took a breath, and opened Sofia’s file. Her official FBI photo stared up at him. His breath caught in his chest, and Owen held it as his gaze skimmed the image. She was even more beautiful now. Soft olive complexion, deep whiskey-brown eyes, long, almost black hair that shone with cinnamon highlights in the sun. That last part he didn’t see in the image. That last part he remembered.
And he remembered so much more. Their friendship. Their bond. Their mutual respect. Their shared goals and values. Their similar sense of humor.
She’d been his best friend for so long. He still thought of her often. Wished they could have stayed in touch. But the sexual tension had become too strong. They knew they either had to act on it or let go.
Since he’d been her CO, since he’d been an officer and she enlisted, since she’d been a gold nugget, ripe for promotion and success, he’d let go.
She hadn’t been happy, but she’d understood.
And he’d missed her. Had never been as close to any other woman in his life. Including . . . maybe especially . . . his almost ex-wife, Libby. He’d thought he’d been in love with Jocelyn for a long time before her recent death. But the woman he’d loved hadn’t been real. She’d been nothing but an illusion. It had only taken him an hour of looking through the files she’d created to set him up to take all the blame in this fiasco to realize she hadn’t been the woman he’d thought.
Owen could only hope Sofia had turned out better than Jocelyn.
Schaeffer had come so close to a beating when he’d accused Owen of screwing Sofia in Afghanistan, he still vibrated with the need to punch something.
The intercom on his phone buzzed and Owen startled. He pulled his gaze from Sofia’s photo and closed the file.
“Yes, Stephanie,” he said then cleared his throat when his voice came out raspy.
“The FBI is here to see you, sir.”
Alarm swirled in Owen’s gut. His gaze darted to Sofia’s file, then back to the phone.
Owen closed his eyes and covered his face. Her smile appeared on his closed lids and excitement, longing . . . desire . . . heated his body. When he opened his eyes, his gaze took in the frozen images of the lab and Schaeffer yelling at Halina.
All his emotions spiraled into a knot and lodged beneath his ribs in regret. He knew exactly how this would look to her. Just the way Schaeffer and Jocelyn had planned to make it look—like Owen was as corrupt as they were.
“Uh . . . sir?” Stephanie said. “Special Agent Seville—”
“Yes, Steph, sorry. I’ll . . . be right out.”
Halina gasped at the sight of the armed men skulking out of the snow-dappled forest. Mitch laid a hand on her knee from the front seat. She jumped and gripped the armrest, her gaze darting from the men closing in on the gate to Mitch’s face. Dex craned his neck and growled at the men.
“Tikhiy,” Mitch murmured, then said to Halina. “It’s just the guards.”
Jesus Christ. She released her breath as they drove through the gate and Mitch and Nelson waved at the others, who waved back. Behind them, the men closed the gate and dispersed back into the forest.
A shiver traveled across Halina’s shoulders and into her chest. “Okay, that was just . . . creepy.”
When she turned to face the front again, she realized Mitch’s hand was still on her knee, and she was holding it there. But his focus was out the windshield, and Halina followed his gaze as she released his hand.