“Can’t. He’s in Costa Rica with Audrey.” The fucker. Living it up with his woman in a tropical paradise while his men were all but tortured by his SEAL friends.
’Course, Marcus had to admit, the man did deserve some down time after being taken hostage, beaten to hell, and shot.
“What about the other guy? Quinn?” Danny asked.
The urgency in Giancarelli’s voice penetrated the fog in his brain. He finally scooted out from under the coffee table and propped his back against the couch. “What’s going on?”
“I know who was pulling Jacinto Rivera’s strings. I know who was behind the abduction plot. The FBI won’t give me the time of day until I have the proof, but Bryson Van Amee needs protection ASAP.”
Marcus snorted and tried stretching out his legs. Christ, even his bone marrow ached. “Protection? From who, his airhead wife?”
Giancarelli’s silence spoke louder than anything he could have said and Marcus sat up straighter. “That was supposed to be a joke.”
“Do I sound like I’m kidding?” Giancarelli said. “It’s Chloe. Which my extremely beautiful and intelligent wife realized is a nickname for Claudia. As in, Claudia Rivera, who disappeared from Bogotá in August, six years ago. And guess who popped up in the States in September, six years ago. Chloe Smith, who became Chloe Van Amee about three months after that.”
Jesus Christ. If Giancarelli was right….
Marcus hauled himself to his feet and powered up his laptop. When the internet came up, he wasn’t surprised to find Harvard online and tucked the phone into his shoulder to type out an instant message: H, GOT A ? 4U.
As he typed, he asked, “How sure are you about this, Dan?”
“Pretty damn. I know it in my gut.”
And Danny had a good track record with gut feelings. “Okay. Hang on.” He set aside the cell and typed another message.
CAN U DO A BCKGRND CHK 4 ME?
Harvard was quick to respond: NAME?
CLAUDIA RIVERA SALAZAR.
ALREADY HAVE IT. DO YOU WANT ME TO SEND IT TO YOU?
Marcus smirked at Harvard’s need to use proper English, even in instant messages. PLZ & THX. He picked up the phone again, but set it down and typed, HAVE CHLOE VAN AMEE 2?
NO, Harvard answered. NEVER SAW THE NEED TO LOOK AT HER.
PLZ CHK HER 2 PDQ & SEND INFO 2 ME.
The computer beeped with an incoming email. He brought up Firefox to access his inbox and raised the phone to his ear again. “Danny, you still there?”
“What did you find out?” he asked.
“Harvard sent me an email. Just a sec.” He read it over, swore loud and long, and opened the picture attachment just as his IM dinged with another message from Harvard: HOLY SHIT.
The pic opened and Marcus stared into the face of a teenage Claudia Rivera. IM dinged with another picture, one of Chloe standing next to her husband.
IS THIS CHLOE VAN AMEE? Harvard asked.
YEP, he typed and said to Danny, “Just got a picture of Claudia and one of Chloe and I’m looking at them side-by-side. I think you’re on to something. Chloe’s about fifteen pounds lighter, has bigger boobs, fuller lips, a straighter nose, and blonde hair, but there’s still a strong resemblance. Too strong to be a coincidence.”
Danny cursed. “It’s always the spouse, man. It’s so obvious and yet we overlooked it because she acted her part to a T. Academy Award-winning stuff. She doesn’t even have an accent. Except…” He paused. “I did hear it once or twice when she said certain words. Couldn’t place it at the time, but I remember wondering about it.”
“All right, listen,” Marcus said. “I’m going to have Harvard send everything he finds your way. Try to get the Bureau involved. I’ll contact Quinn and see if we can set up a protective detail on Van Amee. Keep in touch.”
He hung up and was in the process of changing his clothes when his phone rang again. He expected Giancarelli, but it was Harvard.
Switching the phone to speaker mode, he tugged off his dirty shirt and picked a clean one out of his dresser. “Nice timing, man. I was just about to call—”
“I checked Chloe Van Amee’s financial records,” Harvard said without preamble. “Her personal accounts are nearly dry, but she scraped together enough to buy a first class ticket to Costa Rica. For tonight. Her plane arrived in San Jose two hours ago.”
…
Chloe blinked when Gabe slid a protective arm around Audrey’s waist. If she had less Botox injected into her face, that pinched expression might have been a frown.
“Who’s he?” she asked again in a voice full of suspicion and a hint of gossipy speculation.