No Safe Place Read online

“I kinda guessed that.”

  “Remember that bombing in Myanmar?”

  Corbin glanced at Beth and nodded. “Yeah. Fifty-one dead. Another hundred or so wounded?”

  “That’s the one. Looks like they’re trying to bring their terrorist cell stateside. Shock and awe. If we can get evidence on the money laundering, we can trace the source. Everyone gets a Christmas bonus, and no one dies. Simple. I like simple.”

  “What’s next?”

  “Once the evidence arrives, I’ll get you back to headquarters in style. First class. Hot towels. The whole nine yards.”

  “I’ll settle for something that doesn’t smell like wet dog.” The air freshener in the Honda wasn’t holding up so well. “Where are we setting up in Chicago?”

  “The accountant’s apartment building.”

  “Is that wise?”

  “There’s a vacant apartment on her floor. If they come for her, we’ll be waiting.”

  “No.” Echoes of the FBI haunted Corbin. “Out of the question. I’m not using her as bait.”

  “I didn’t say we were. I just said that if they come, we’ll be waiting.”

  “Is there a difference?”

  “As far as you know, yes, there’s a difference.” The line crackled. “Your accountant is a high-value asset. That means she’s under our protection. With all the rights and privileges that status entitles.”

  As in, hands off. Corbin read the undercurrent. “Got it.”

  “You’ll be out of Chicago by the end of the week. We’ll have a team in place by the time you two get there.”

  “Good.”

  “Everything staying professional out there?”

  The implication was clear. Beth was part of an investigation. Corbin had a responsibility to maintain a personal distance. “Yep.”

  “Keep it that way.”

  He hung up the phone and glanced at Beth. “We’ve got confirmation on the security detail. You’re going home.”

  Her expression was tight. “What about you? What happens now?”

  “I’m in charge until this is finished.”

  “Congratulations.” The patina in her leaf-green eyes had lost some of its luster. “You’ll be home before you know it.”

  His stomach dipped, and the past few years caught up to him in a flash. He didn’t have a home. Not really. Neither of them did. They were nomads, though not by nature. They were both trying to outrun the loneliness. They were both trying to outrun grief. Near as he could tell, they were both failing miserably.

  So much of his life had been a reflection of Evan. Keeping up with Evan. Trying to be like Evan. He’d defined himself by how he compared, and with nothing tying him to that standard, he’d gone adrift. He was like an actor in a stage play who was still saying his lines even though one of the characters was missing. He was hitting his marks and going through the motions, but he was alone. Emoting to an empty space.

  Snippets of conversation fell into place like pieces in a puzzle. Beth had been close to her dad. She’d cared for him when he was sick. Corbin had no doubt she’d taken over the role of both parent and child in the relationship toward the end. That’s often how lengthy illness worked. He’d seen as much when his grandparents were ill.

  She was trying to outwit her grief by never staying in one place long enough for the feelings to manifest. They were both fighting the same battle, and there was nothing he could do to help her. He was bound by professional ethics and a code of conduct. The lines had blurred over the past few days, but that didn’t change his responsibility.

  No matter what his feelings, Elizabeth Greenwood was off-limits.

  Corbin couldn’t quite meet the sadness in her eyes. “Don’t worry, you’ll be back to your old life in no time.”

  She glanced away. “You’ll forget all about me.”

  “Never,” he replied, his voice husky.

  A heavy weight settled on his chest. He’d found the key to his future, but it belonged to the one doorway he was forbidden to enter.

  * * *

  By Tuesday morning, Beth’s Chicago apartment seemed a lot smaller with the swarming government agents. Her heel tapping lightly against the floor, she followed the steady tick, tick, tick of the second hand on the clock. Almost time. She was a few seconds away from vindication.

  She glanced at Corbin, his feet propped on the ottoman, his face highlighted by the glow of the computer screen. Something had changed between them. Somewhere between Minneapolis and Chicago, he’d become little more than a stranger.

  One of the milling agents poured himself a cup of coffee from the carafe on the counter. From the moment Corbin had hung up the phone following the attack in the corn maze, a sense of urgency had prevailed. The information Homeland Security had received on Van Gardiner and Doug Raynor had set in motion a chain of events that had them barreling toward a conclusion.

  The additional agents were treating her with cautious courtesy. Polite. Professional. Reserved. She hadn’t officially been moved from the “suspect” column to the “cooperating” column just yet. Everything hinged on that email.

  She might have attributed Corbin’s change of attitude to the presence of the other agents, but the shift had started well before their arrival. The shift had happened after the phone call.

  She rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn. This was better. His detachment was a good thing. They both traveled extensively for their jobs. They were both dedicated to their work. There was no middle ground between them. She’d always take second place to his job, and she deserved more. She deserved to be first in his life. She wasn’t settling.

  One good thing had come of her time with Quetech. She’d discovered new wells of courage within herself, and she was done playing it safe all the time. Things were going to be different from now on. She’d been adrift for too long. She loved her work, but she was unsatisfied.

  When this was all over, she was going to do some serious soul-searching about the direction of her life. It was time to reconnect with friends. It was time to reconnect with the things that brought her joy. It was time to find out what exactly brought her joy. She was going to volunteer more at church. She was going to become a part of the community once more rather than a vagabond drifting through for Sunday services.

  Corbin caught her gaze. “How are you holding up?”

  “Good.”

  Terrible, actually. She was on pins and needles. The buzzing of Corbin’s phone startled them both. He set his computer aside, rose from the couch and took the call on the balcony. The sliding doors closed. He paced. His free hand gestured. His expression grew intense.

  She glanced at the clock, and her stomach pitched. The email should have arrived by now. The conversation continued. She’d even made allowances for the shift in time zones. Something didn’t feel right.

  Twenty minutes later, Corbin returned inside.

  “What’s wrong?” she demanded. “What happened?”

  “That was Agent Keel,” he said, his voice grim. “From the FBI. Your email didn’t arrive.”

  “But—” she checked the clock again “—it’s time.”

  “Maybe you got the time wrong.”

  “No. I didn’t. I didn’t get the time wrong.” She clutched her head and paced the room. “I set the date...”

  Her hands dropped to her sides. She’d been keying in the numbers when she heard something. Her mouse had shot off the desk. She’d clicked quickly through the screens.

  “Wait. I need to check something.” She flipped open the lid to her laptop and keyed in her password. The spinning circle rotated. “C’mon. Hurry up and load, you stupid thing.”

  The coffee-drinking agent leaned his hip against the counter. She couldn’t remember his name. She couldn’t tell any of them apart. They all wore the same dark suits and had the same crisp haircut.


  “Here we go.” She clicked through the screens and opened her email, then clicked on the confirmation from No Going Back. Her heart plummeted. “I don’t understand.”

  “What?” Corbin leaned over her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything is correct.” She pushed up the cuffs of her sleeves and typed through more screens. “I don’t understand why the email wasn’t delivered.”

  Nausea churned in her stomach, and the room seemed to blur and fade. This was bad. This was very bad. Everything hinged on that email. Her whole future. Corbin’s reputation. He’d stuck out his neck for her. She was telling the truth, but who’d believe her? She doubted she’d believe herself in the same situation.

  “All right,” Corbin said, his voice measured. “Let’s think this through. Let’s work the problem.”

  The coffee-drinking agent exchanged a glance with his partner. Her cheeks burned. She was firmly entrenched in the “suspect” column.

  Corbin’s phone buzzed again. He glanced at the number and stepped onto the balcony once more. Her limbs felt as though they were weighted.

  What had gone wrong? She had to think. She had to retrace her steps. Quetech was paranoid. Every electronic message passed through their computer servers. Every. Single. One. She recalled hearing about someone in the company who’d sent salary information to his personal account from a Quetech email. A filter had caught the infraction, and he’d been fired. Had her email gotten caught in one of those filters? Perhaps something in the text—a word or a file number—had triggered a response.

  She paced, a hand pressed over her stomach. This couldn’t be happening. Of all the stupid, idiotic mistakes. Why hadn’t she simply dropped a flash drive in an actual mailbox? Somehow sending an email had seemed less larcenous. Less invasive.

  She’d planned everything. Think about your disappearance at least as much as you thought about what put you on the run in the first place. She’d done her homework. She’d considered all the angles. Despite her careful planning, thus far, not one thing had gone as planned. She’d nearly gotten kidnapped on her way out of the building, Corbin had followed her on the train, and the email had never arrived.

  There had to be another way to retrieve the information. She sat down at the computer and pulled up No Going Back once more. She keyed through all the screens, and even wrote a frantic message to the help desk. According to their records, the email had been triggered.

  Where was it then? Why wasn’t Agent Keel opening the attachment?

  She glanced at the balcony. Was this some sort of test? Probably not. There was too much whispering. Too many hooded glances from the other agents. They were looking at Corbin and back at her. Her stomach churned.

  They must assume that she’d conned him.

  Corbin appeared once more, his face grim. “We’re dead in the water.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, sensing a shift.

  “We don’t have enough evidence for a warrant on Quetech.”

  “But, but... I don’t understand. What happens now?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s not your fault, Beth. Near as I can figure, they had a filter—what we call a sniffer—on one of the computer servers, and something in your email triggered the net. The sniffer is constantly searching out specific words and characters. The email was most likely quarantined and flagged for review, which alerted someone at Quetech that you were on to them. That means we have to go about this the old-fashioned way. We find a judge and make our case.”

  “Then...nothing?”

  “They’ve outmaneuvered us, and they know it. By the time we get a warrant, everything will be scrapped.” He whipped off his glasses and absently polished the lenses. “Maybe they’ll get careless. We’ll keep monitoring Cayman Holdings. Look for another chance.”

  There wasn’t going to be another chance, and they both knew it. If Quetech had intercepted her email, then they knew by now that someone had discovered the money laundering. They’d be destroying the evidence and covering their tracks.

  She sprang to her feet. “Why were they still coming after me? They obviously knew about the email.”

  “To clean up the loose ends. To ensure you didn’t have a copy.” For the first time since arriving in Chicago, he met her gaze, his expression unguarded. “Don’t worry. You’ll still have protection from the marshals. Just until we know for certain you’re safe.”

  “I don’t care about the protection.” She’d agreed to witness protection until the case went to trial. “There has to be another way.”

  “You tried, Beth.” Corbin placed a hand on her shoulder. “No one blames you.”

  The coffee-drinking agent reached for a donut from the box on the counter. “That’s it, then? We packing up here?”

  “No.” Beth frantically shook her head. “I’ll go back. I’ll copy the information to an external drive. This isn’t over.”

  Corbin held up his hands. “I can’t ask you to do that. Too dangerous. Someone on the inside of Quetech knows about you. They tracked you.”

  “They don’t suspect you.” She snapped her fingers. “I can tell you what to do.”

  “I can’t. Not without the proper authority. Employees, like you, are protected by the Whistle-blower Act. I’d need a warrant. I’d need to move through regular channels.”

  “This isn’t over.” As the plan formulated in her mind, her resolve firmed. “I’ll go in early. I’ll be in and out before anyone suspects.”

  “There are too many variables,” came Corbin’s immediate, uncompromising response. “And not enough time to account for them all. I’d need days, not hours, to put something this complex together.”

  “We can’t wait that long. Once the bank opens, they’ll start deleting records.” She frantically considered the timeline. “Think about it. Quetech is the last place they’ll be looking for me. I don’t need much time. Twenty minutes. A half hour at most. By the time they figure out I’m there, I’ll be gone.”

  Corbin flattened his hand against the back of his head. “They’ll have changed your password by now.”

  “I don’t think so. Everyone left early on Friday, remember? Ted from IT was leaving for the weekend. There wasn’t anyone there who knows how to change a password.”

  “You might be right. You didn’t send the email until after three.”

  Hope flared in her chest. She felt his resistance faltering. He was softening to the idea. “No one pays attention to temporary employees.”

  The coffee-drinking agent raised his hand to get their attention. “Can’t we just send her in now? While the place is empty?”

  “No,” Corbin muttered darkly. “The company is paranoid. No employees in or out unless security is on site. Miss Greenwood won’t be able to enter the building outside of regular working hours.”

  Her throat tightened. Miss Greenwood. Her status change was permanent. He wasn’t even using her first name anymore.

  He’d trusted her. He’d kept her safe. She wasn’t letting him down.

  “See?” she said. “My idea is perfect.”

  “Nope. Too dangerous. We still haven’t gotten a warrant for the security footage inside the building. We don’t know who planted the tracking device on you.”

  Beth slammed shut the lid on her laptop. “According to Human Resources, you still work there, too, Agent Ross.” His expression flickered at her use of his title, and she experienced an entirely selfish twinge of victory. Two could play at that game. “You said it yourself—they’re not looking for you. You can be my protection.”

  “That hasn’t worked out too well so far.”

  The bitterness in his voice cut her to the quick. He thought he’d failed her, but she’d failed him. All he’d done was believe in her when no one else did.

  “We’re here, aren’t we? It’s worked out well enough.�
� She rose and approached him, standing toe to toe, willing him to understand. “I need to do this. I have to do this.”

  For him. For herself. For Timothy. For her dad. She wasn’t backing down. Not when they were this close to tracing the source. He wouldn’t regret trusting her. Not if she could help it.

  Corbin flipped back his jacket and planted his hands on his hips. “Can I speak with you outside, Miss Greenwood?”

  She gave a silent prizefighter cheer with her clenched hands. She had him. He was softening. He was going to agree.

  The two agents exchanged a glance.

  “Sure,” Beth said, dropping her hands.

  Best not to be too obvious.

  Corbin led her into the corridor and raked his hands through his hair again. “How much time do you need?”

  “Not much. Like I said. Twenty minutes. I know what I’m looking for this time.”

  Crossing his arms, he paced the narrow space. “I can’t give you much protection. Legally, my hands are tied. As an undercover operative, I’m walking a very narrow line. Anything I do in the retrieval of the information risks blowing the case in court.”

  A steady calm took hold of her. “I know. But you said it yourself, I’m not bound by those rules. I’m the whistle-blower, remember?”

  Corbin gently grasped her face in his hands, his thumb brushing gently along her temple. “The decisions I made in this case have put you in danger. I can’t risk doing that again.”

  Beth blinked rapidly. He was still trying to protect her. She was falling in love with him, but she’d sort her feelings out later. She feared she’d moved past the tipping point. Even if she opened herself up to dating again, she’d never find anyone who measured up to him, and she wasn’t prepared to settle.

  For now, she had to prove to him that his trust was not misplaced.

  He made a sound of frustration. “Look, I’m sorry about how I behaved these past few days. I let things get out of hand. I, uh, have a professional responsibility.”

  “We have feelings for each other.” Swallowing around the lump in her throat, she gathered her courage. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”