Locked, Loaded and SEALed Page 2

  “Absolutely. Lead the way.”

  Sophia took one last look at the office where she’d spent just about the happiest year of her life and sucked in her trembling bottom lip. Dr. Fazal hadn’t killed himself. He wouldn’t have left her like that—not like everyone else had.

  When Officer Nolan touched her back, she jumped and then barreled out the office door. A detective was questioning Norm by the elevator.

  Sophia stabbed the call button and then turned to Norm. “Did you tell the detective that you heard someone on the stairwell right before I came back, Norm?”

  “I sure did, Sophia.”

  “They think it was suicide.” She snorted. “No way. You should’ve seen the office.”

  “D-do you think that was the doc’s killer on the stairs?” Norm’s eyes bugged out.

  The detective questioning Norm raised his eyebrows at Officer Nolan. “I’d like to question the witness in private.”

  “Sure, sure.” Nolan’s face turned red up to his hairline and he prodded Sophia into the elevator when the doors opened.

  When she got inside, she slumped against the wall, folding her arms over the framed picture. “I just wanted to make sure Norm told the detective about hearing someone on the stairwell. That could’ve been the killer.”

  “You’re convinced Dr. Fazal didn’t kill himself?”

  “He wouldn’t do that.”

  To me, the voice inside her head screamed. He wouldn’t do that to me.

  She lifted her shoulders and dropped them. “Besides, why would he search his own office like that?”

  “Maybe he was looking for something, couldn’t find it and decided to end it all. Did you know he kept a gun in his office?”

  “Who said it was his gun? Maybe the killers shot him in the head and planted the gun in his hand.”

  “I guess we’ll know more when the homicide detectives look into everything and we get the ballistics report and the autopsy.”

  The elevator reached level two of the parking garage and the doors opened on an empty aisle.

  Sophia grabbed the officer’s arm. “Wait a minute. When I was returning to the office, a car came careening around the corner, tires screeching and everything. Do you think it might be connected?”

  “What kind of car? Did you get a look at the driver?”

  “It was an old car, beat-up, midsize and dark. I didn’t see who was driving, but can you tell the detective?”

  “I’ll tell him and you can tell him yourself when you talk to him again. This lot is straight in-and-out, right? No attendant?”

  “If you’re a visitor, you take a ticket on your way in and pay at a machine before you leave. There should be some record around that time.” She slipped the photo into her purse.

  “I’ll pass it on. This your car?”

  It was the only car left in the aisle, maybe on the entire level.

  “This is it. Thanks.” She hit the key fob, and the officer waited until she got into the car. She waved at him in her rearview mirror as he stepped back into the elevator.

  Then she broke down.

  Her messy cry lasted a good five minutes. When she got it all out, she bent forward and reached into her glove compartment for some tissues.

  As she straightened up, she heard a whisper of movement behind her. Her eyes flew to the rearview mirror and she met the steady gaze of a man in her backseat.

  Chapter Two

  Austin held his breath. He had to play this right or this emotionally overwrought woman just might go ballistic on him. And he’d deserve it.

  He held up both hands. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m a friend of Dr. Fazal’s, and I think I know what happened to him.”

  One of her hands was gripping the steering wheel and the other was covering the center where the horn was located. If she drew attention to them, to him, it would be all over.

  Her breath came out in short spurts and her gaze never left his in the mirror. “Do you have a gun on me?”

  He could tell her he did and she’d probably do whatever he asked, but he didn’t want to frighten her any more than he had—any more than she had been by tonight’s events.

  “I don’t have a gun on you. You can lay on that horn and I’ll hightail it out of your car, out of your life, but you may never know what happened to Hamid... And your own life may be in danger.”

  Her dark eyes, beautiful even with makeup smudged all around them, narrowed—not exactly the reaction he’d expected.

  She blew her nose with the tissue and tossed it on the floor of the car. Turning slightly in the driver’s seat, she asked, “If you know so much, how come you’re not up there right now talking to the Boston PD?”

  “For the same reason I didn’t come and knock on your front door or give you a call. I’m trying to keep a low profile—for reasons I may not be able to tell you.”

  “Because you killed him?”

  “I didn’t kill him, and I won’t harm you.”

  “How do I know that?”

  “You’re alive, aren’t you?” He relaxed in the backseat, his hands on his knees in full view. “You already know I’m no threat to you. You sense it. In fact, you’re a street-savvy woman, aren’t you, Sophia Grant?”

  She spun around to face him. “Who the hell are you? How do you know me? Dr. Fazal?”

  He splayed his fingers in front of him. “I’m going to reach into my front pocket.”

  Nodding, she curled her hands into fists as if ready to take him on.

  He slipped his military ID from his pocket and held it in front of her face. “That’s me. I’m US military, and I’m on an assignment.”

  She squinted at the laminated card and shifted her eyes to compare his face to the picture on the ID.

  He asked, “Can we go somewhere and talk? You might feel more comfortable in a public place.”

  “I might feel more comfortable if you sit in the front seat where I can see your hands.”

  He held up his hands again, pinching his ID between his fingers. “They’re right here. I’d rather stay in the back for now. I don’t want to be seen in your car in case...”

  “In case someone’s watching me, following me?” She started the car’s engine. “Why would someone be interested in me?”

  Why wouldn’t they be? Austin dragged his gaze from her luscious lips and met her eyes. “Because you worked with Dr. Fazal.”

  “It wasn’t suicide. He didn’t kill himself.” Her chin jutted forward as if daring him to disagree with her.

  “He may have killed himself, but only because he had no choice. The men after him would’ve killed him anyway—and probably after hours or days of torture.”

  She gasped and covered her mouth with one hand.

  A twinge of guilt needled his belly. He’d gone too far. Just because she hadn’t screamed and hit the horn or fainted didn’t mean she had a hard shell impervious to pain.

  “I’m sorry, and you’re right. Dr. Fazal was not suicidal, but I would like a better idea of what was going on with him. Can you help me out?”

  “I knew it.” She smacked the steering wheel. “Those idiots were trying to tell me he killed himself when the office had obviously been searched.”

  “Searched?” His pulse sped up. “Was anything taken?”

  “Just his computer as far as I could tell. The cops had me look around, but I was too rattled to see straight.” She put the car in Reverse and backed out of the space. “I know a place in Cambridge, not too far from here—dark, not too crowded, but crowded enough so that we won’t be noticed.”

  “Sounds good.” He ducked down and lay across the backseat. “I’m going to stay down. I want you to check your mirrors when you drive out of the parking structure to make sure you’re not bein
g followed. Keep an eye out. Slow down and let cars pass you, take a few turns if you think someone’s tailing you.”

  “You’re not making me feel any better.”

  “You’ll be safe—with me.” The same couldn’t be said for Dr. Fazal, and Austin felt the failure of showing up too late to protect him gnaw at his gut.

  The tires squealed and the car bounced as she pulled out of the parking structure. Austin’s forehead hit the back of the driver’s seat. “Did you see someone?”

  “All clear so far. Why?”

  “You stepped on that gas like you had the devil himself on your tail.”

  “To get out of that parking structure, you gotta move or you’ll be waiting there all night.”

  Apparently, every intersection she blew through had the same problem as the car sped up, lurched around corners and jerked to a stop every once in a while. If Fazal’s killers didn’t end him, Sophia’s driving would.

  “No headlights behind you?”

  “Not for any length of time. Don’t worry. I got this. I’m no stranger to losing a tail.”

  “Should that concern me?”

  “It should make you happy. We’re almost there.”

  Rubbing his forehead, Austin sat up and peered out the window. They’d already crossed Longfellow Bridge and were speeding into Cambridge.

  A few minutes later, the car crawled along a street lined with bars and restaurants as Sophia searched for a parking space.

  He tapped on the window. “There’s a public lot with space.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m not paying twenty-four bucks to park my car.”

  “I’ll spring for the parking. We could be driving around here all night looking for a place.”

  “Your call, but it’s a rip-off.” She made an illegal U-turn in the middle of the street and swung into the lot, buzzing down her window.

  He pulled a crumpled twenty and a five from his pocket and handed them to her.

  The attendant met the car. “That’s twenty-four dollars, please.”

  She gave him the money, and then pinched the one dollar bill he gave her between two fingers and held it over her shoulder. “Here you go.”

  When they got out of the car, Sophia crossed her arms, gripping her biceps and hunching her shoulders.

  “You don’t have a jacket? It’s cold out here for just a long-sleeved shirt.”

  “I had a sweater.” She slammed the car door and locked it. “It has Dr. Fazal’s blood all over it.”

  “I’m sorry. Take my jacket.” He shrugged out of his blue peacoat and draped it over her shoulders, his hands lingering for a few seconds.

  She hugged the coat around her body and sniffed. “Thanks.”

  They joined the Friday night crowd on the sidewalk—students, professors, young professionals, a few tourists. They could fit in with this bunch, even though Sophia still wore a dazed expression on her pale face.

  She led him to one of the many bars, crowded but not jammed, a duo at one end singing a folk song.

  “We can probably still get a booth, but we’ll have to order some bar food.”

  “That’s okay.” He tipped his chin toward a booth in the back of the long room that three people had just left. “There’s one.”

  He followed her as she wended her way through the tables scattered along the perimeter of the bar. Her black hair gleamed under the low lights, and he had a sudden urge to reach out and smooth his fingers along the silky strands. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans instead.

  A waitress swooped in just as they reached the table. “I’ll clear this up for you.”

  When the waitress finished clearing the glasses from the previous customers, Sophia slid onto the bench seat and he sat down across from her.

  Hunching forward, she buried her chin in her hand and the small diamond on the side of her nose sparkled. “Tell me who you are and what the hell is going on.”

  “My name’s Austin Foley, and I’m in the US Navy.”

  She blinked her lashes, still long and dark even though her mascara had run down her face. “How do you know Dr. Fazal?”

  He massaged his temple. How could he explain things to her without compromising classified information?

  Of course, the rescue of Dr. Fazal was no longer classified, and if anyone had a right to know about Dr. Fazal’s past, Sophia did. Maybe she already knew. All their intel on Fazal and Sophia indicated that the two had grown close.

  “What did Fazal tell you about his past before coming to the US?”

  Sophia bit her bottom lip as the waitress approached the table. “Now, what can I get you?”

  “I’ll have a beer—whatever you have on tap.”

  “Club soda with lime for me.”

  The waitress left, and Sophia leaned toward him over the table. “I only know that his wife and two daughters died in a terrorist bombing in Islamabad. The US government resettled him here for safety, but then you know that already. You claim to know more than I do, so you’d better start spilling or I’m calling my new best friends at the Boston PD.”

  Austin squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. If he’d thought handling Sophia Grant would be easy, he’d been completely mistaken. She’d probably catch him out in a lie in about two seconds, too. Were there any girls back home like this? If so, he’d never run into one, and given the size of White Bluff, Wyoming, he’d run into all of the women.

  “Okay.” He ran a hand across the top of his head, his hair still short from active duty. “Dr. Fazal helped out the US military, helped us nail a wanted terrorist hiding in the area. His life wasn’t worth much in Islamabad after that, so we hustled him out of Pakistan.”

  She nodded. “That doesn’t surprise me. I figured there was more to his story.”

  Nothing seemed to surprise this surprising woman. “We settled him in Boston. You know he went to medical school here?”

  “Yes.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “Were you one of the guys who helped rescue him?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  The waitress delivered their drinks and Austin held his up. “To Dr. Fazal.”

  Sophia clinked her glass with his. “To Dr. Fazal.”

  She took a sip of her drink and laced her fingers around the glass mug. “What were you doing here at the precise moment he got murdered?”

  Austin ground his back teeth together and took a bigger swig of beer than he’d intended. He gulped it down. “He’d contacted us a few weeks back, said he was being watched, followed.”

  “So that’s why he’d been agitated.”

  “Was he?”

  “For the past several days—distracted, even curt with me, which was unusual.”

  “After his initial contact, we didn’t hear from him again. I guess he thought we could help him, but I was too late.” His hand curled into a fist on the table.

  “D-do you think that’s it? The people he betrayed in Pakistan wanted revenge?”

  “That’s what it looks like on the surface, but it’s hard for me to swallow that they’d go to all this trouble to get to him. The main guy he betrayed is dead. Were his followers that loyal to track Fazal to the US and murder him here? That’s taking a huge chance on their part, and how did they even get into the country if they’re on a no-fly list?”

  “You’re asking me? I’m just a physical therapist in training. You’re the—” she waved her hand at him “—navy guy. What is a US military man doing operating on domestic soil, anyway?”

  “This is strictly under the radar.”

  “That’s the reason for all the cloak-and-dagger stuff? You’re lucky I didn’t scream bloody murder and run back to tell the cops a man had broken into my car and had been lying in wait for me.”

  “S
ome of it’s luck.”

  “Some?” She raised her dark brows as she took a drink from her glass.

  He shrugged. “We had a little intel on you. I didn’t figure you for the screaming type.”

  “That’s creepy.” She swallowed. “The government can just spy on anyone these days. Is that it?”

  “I wouldn’t call it spying.”

  “I would.” She flipped her black hair over one shoulder. “So, what do you want from me? I can’t give you any more information about Dr. Fazal than I gave the police.”

  “The Boston PD thinks he may have committed suicide. Now I just gave you this other info about Dr. Fazal. Does this change your view of what was going on with him?”

  “He never said anything to me about it, but his killers were definitely searching for something in the office.”

  “That worries me, makes me think this is about more than revenge.”

  “What could they have been looking for? Dr. Fazal already gave up what he knew about the terrorist in Islamabad, right?”

  “Maybe he had more information that he didn’t even tell us.” He grabbed a plastic menu from the end of the table. “Are you hungry? The waitress didn’t make us order anything, but you probably haven’t had dinner.”

  “I’m not hungry.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “My date.”

  “You had a date tonight?” Of course she did. An attractive, vibrant woman like Sophia Grant wouldn’t be sitting at home alone on Friday night.

  “I did. I was supposed to meet him downtown.”

  “Give him a call. Is there still time?”

  “I don’t have his phone number, and he doesn’t have mine, thank goodness, or he would’ve been calling me.”

  “That’s a weird date.” He drew his brows together. At least this guy wasn’t her fiancé or the love of her life if they didn’t even have each other’s phone numbers.

  “It was a date on Spark.”

  “Spark?”

  “Where’ve you been, Islamabad?” She tapped her cell phone. “It’s a dating app.”

  “Is that safe?”

  “Safer than this.” She drew a circle in the air above their table.