Locked, Loaded and SEALed Page 7

  “I’m here.” Anna stumbled into the waiting room with tears streaming down her face. “I can’t believe this.”

  Ginny gave Anna a bear hug and the two women clung together for a few minutes, their tears mingling. Their unbridled emotion socked her in the gut. Sophia didn’t even know how to break down like that, wouldn’t even know how, and witnessing their pain and grief only made her shell grow harder.

  She slipped away from the cryfest and stepped into her office. She maneuvered around the two chairs facing her desk and sank into the chair behind it. She powered on the computer and rested her fingers on the keyboard while she waited for it to come to life.

  Why had Dr. Fazal’s killers taken only his computer? They probably figured they’d be too conspicuous lugging a host of computers out of the office, although apparently nobody had seen them leave.

  She went through her email and opened a few files, but she didn’t know what she was looking for. Sighing, she dropped to her knees and gathered up the papers and file folders littering the floor.

  They’d probably stolen the drugs to make it look like a typical crime, although they had to know the FBI would be keeping tabs on Dr. Fazal, or at least would be alerted in the event of his murder.

  What did they want? What secrets had Hamid been keeping? What secrets had he been keeping from her?

  She plopped back in the chair and spun it around to face her bookshelf. The books had been rifled through, too. So, had they been searching for something on paper? A computer file? From the looks of the office, they didn’t know.

  She ran her hands down the spines of the books to straighten them on the shelf. Then she leaned forward to retrieve a couple that had been left on the floor.

  A bright pink sticky note beneath the desk caught her eye. She slid from the chair to the floor and reached for it. Still beneath the desk, she peered at the note, wrinkling her nose as she recognized Dr. Fazal’s scratchy handwriting. She clambered back into the chair and held the note under the desk lamp.

  As she deciphered the words, her heart slammed against her rib cage. Dr. Fazal had left her a clue.

  Chapter Six

  Austin flexed his fingers before attacking the keyboard. Entering Peter Patel in the search engine returned multiple pages and too many entries to count.

  He tried narrowing it down by entering the data from the patient file but didn’t get any hits.

  Slumping in his chair, he stretched his legs out to the side and took a careful sip of coffee. It beat the stuff Sophia had brewed in that old coffeemaker of hers, but that concoction suited her—strong, bracing and no frills.

  Would she keep up that strong front back at the office where she’d discovered Dr. Fazal’s body? None of this could be easy for her, and yet she’d responded like a soldier.

  How far would Fazal’s killers go to contact Sophia, and what exactly did they want from her?

  Someone like Sophia wouldn’t go for any type of witness protection, but how could they keep her safe in Boston if these guys were determined to interrogate her...or worse? How could he keep her safe?

  The key could be this guy, Patel. He sat up and grabbed his phone, and then hunched over the laptop to scroll to Patel’s phone number from the file.

  He tapped the number into his cell and listened to the phone on the other end of the line ring and ring. Patel didn’t even have voice mail? If this were a cell phone number, a recording would come on indicating the person hadn’t set up voice mail.

  He jotted down Patel’s address on a napkin, and then entered it into the computer. The location in Brookline wasn’t too far. If Patel wouldn’t answer his phone, Austin would pay him a surprise visit.

  He accessed his email and pored over the new pictures of his nephew his sister had sent. This baby made him an uncle six times, and he had fun with the role even though he knew his turn would have to wait. His family didn’t even know he was stateside, and he couldn’t tell them. There was a lot he couldn’t tell his family.

  The door to the coffeehouse flew open and he glanced up, his heart doing a flip-flop when he saw Sophia’s pale face framed by her disheveled black hair.

  He kicked out the chair across from him and she dropped into it, waving a pink square of paper in his face. “I found something.”

  “What is it?”

  She smacked the sticky note on the table next to his laptop. “It is Patel, and Dr. Fazal was trying to warn me.”

  He peeled the note from the table and held it close to his face, his eyebrows colliding over his nose. “What the hell does this say?”

  “Shh.” She put her finger to her lips and looked to her right and then to her left. She leaned forward pointing at each word upside down as she read it out to him in a whisper.

  “Leave. New. Patient. Files.”

  “Is that what that says?” He flicked the edge of the note. “I’m underwhelmed. What does it mean and how is it a warning?”

  She ripped the note from the table and pressed it to her heart. “He’s telling me to leave the new patient files alone, and the new patient is?”

  “Peter Patel.”

  “That’s right. He’s the only new patient who hasn’t been entered in the database, so it would only apply to him. Also, this is not something I’d normally handle. It’s Ginny’s responsibility to enter patient files into the database.”

  “Where did you find this note? You hadn’t seen it before...before his murder?”

  “No. It wasn’t there when I left my office that night. I found it beneath my desk, where it must’ve floated when my office was trashed.”

  “Is this—” his eyes dropped to the note still pressed against her breast “—a typical way for him to communicate with you? Sticky notes?”

  “Not unheard of, but not something he’d do frequently. It would definitely get my attention, and don’t you see? It’s cryptic enough that nobody else would consider it important or out of the ordinary.”

  “Cryptic for you as well, but gets the job done. The only reason I can think of that he’d warn you off Patel is if he believed Patel would reach out to you.”

  She covered her mouth with the pink square. “Do you think that was Patel last night in Cambridge with the gun?”

  “I don’t know.” He swirled the coffee in his cup. “If Patel came to see Dr. Fazal, maybe to warn him about something, and Fazal was protecting him by pretending he was a patient, I just can’t see someone like that harming you. Dr. Fazal would never do that to you.”

  “But Patel might try to reach out to me, anyway?”

  “If Dr. Fazal knew he was a dead man, he might want to warn you away from Patel just to keep you out of the loop. Patel could be a desperate man. Once he hears about Fazal’s murder, he might turn to you instead. Maybe Fazal is warning you against that inevitability.”

  “He was thinking of me even at the end.” She cupped the note between her two hands, almost as if in prayer.

  “He was warning you away from Patel.” He tapped the napkin with Patel’s address. “Not me.”

  “Are you going to track him down?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “That’s exactly what Dr. Fazal didn’t want.”

  “Well, he misjudged his enemies if he thought they’d leave me alone. I’m in this, whether or not that’s what Dr. Fazal wanted.”

  “Not what he wanted.”

  “Do you think I’ll be safer in that hotel room on my own or safer with you?”

  He opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. Of course she’d be safer with him. He leveled a finger at her. “If you come along with me, you need to do exactly what I say. I know you think you’re street smart and savvy, but this is a different world.”

  “You’re lucky I am street smart and
savvy because I recognized you as one of the good guys right away.” She pushed his finger out of the way. “When do we go?”

  “Let me wrap up a few things first. Were the police at the office when you were there cleaning up?”

  “No, but Ginny, the receptionist, saw them when she got there. I gather they didn’t have any news.”

  “What about the...uh, arrangements for Dr. Fazal?”

  “The funeral?” She dropped the pink note in her purse. “Morgan told me some of his colleagues are organizing a memorial service, and they actually want me to say something. According to his religion, he needs to be buried as soon as the coroner releases his body—whenever that is. The memorial service can take place sooner.”

  He jerked his thumb at the counter. “Go get yourself a coffee while I finish.”

  “I prefer the stuff at the donut shop across the street.”

  His lips quirked as he suppressed a smile.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. If you want to run across the street, I’ll probably be done by the time you get back.”

  “I’ll wait here.” With one finger, she dragged the napkin with Patel’s address to her side of the table. “Brookline, huh?”

  “Looks about five miles away on the directions.”

  “It’s close.” She held up her cell phone. “Do you want me to put it in my GPS?”

  “Go ahead. Do you want to drive or navigate?”

  “Since it’s my car, I’ll drive.”

  “I’ll wear my seat belt.”

  She nudged his shoe with her foot. “Are you implying that I’m a lousy driver?”

  “Not at all. I’m just all about safety.”

  The nudge turned into a kick. “Liar.”

  “There.” He clicked Send on his request. “I just submitted Peter Patel’s name to our database to see if we have anything on him.”

  “You don’t think Peter Patel’s a fake name?”

  “I do, but it’s worth a try. Maybe it’s a fake name he’s used before, so it might come up as an alias for the real person.”

  She tilted her head. “Is this what you do as a navy SEAL? Intelligence? Espionage?”

  “Me?” He raised his eyebrows. “No, although I’ve had some training.”

  “Then, what do you do?”

  “I’m a sniper.”

  Her dark eyes glittered as she narrowed them to slits. “You kill people from a safe distance?”

  He pressed his lips into a thin line, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “I save and protect people.”

  “I-is that how you protected Dr. Fazal?”

  He nodded once and snapped his laptop closed. “You ready?”

  “Just need to enter the address in my phone’s GPS.”

  While she tapped her phone, he put away his laptop and tossed his cup. He didn’t need to explain what he did to civilians like Sophia. He didn’t imagine that she’d understand, and she shouldn’t have to.

  “All done.” She squinted at her phone. “We should be there in seventeen minutes.”

  “With you driving, we could cut that down to ten.”

  “I’ll be careful, but your concern seems pretty funny coming from a guy who takes bigger risks than traveling in a fast-moving car.”

  As he opened the door for her, he shook his finger. “A lot of soldiers come back from their tours and die in car accidents.”

  “You’re right.”

  They walked back to the medical building parking structure and jogged up one flight of stairs to their level.

  Austin pressed the car keys into her hand. “Here you go.”

  Clutching the key ring, she stepped back from the car. “Sh-should you check it out again?”

  He pulled the bug detector from his jacket pocket and held it up. “I have something better, so I don’t have to crawl beneath the car.”

  Pressing the button on the device, he waved it across the car’s bumper, along the sides and over the hood. “All clear.”

  She clicked the key fob. “Wow, that’s really some James Bond stuff right there.”

  “Naw.” He stuffed the detector in his pocket. “Pretty basic, actually.”

  He dropped into the passenger seat beside her, and she handed him her cell phone. “Navigate, please.”

  As she pulled out of the parking lot, he glanced at the phone and directed her to turn right at the next lights.

  On the drive to Brookline, she stayed just under the speed limit and her tires didn’t squeal once.

  “The address is another two blocks up on the right.”

  She slowed the car. “Nice neighborhood.”

  “It’s coming up.” He dropped his gaze to the phone. “Just about...”

  “Are you kidding me? It’s seven twenty-eight, isn’t it?”

  He jerked his head up and swore as they rolled past a house under construction. “Pull over. I suppose we should’ve expected this. A phone number with no voice mail and an address with no house.”

  She parked the car and Austin jumped out. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he approached the half-finished house.

  Sophia hovered at his elbow. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s living here, either.”

  A truck rumbled up behind them, and Austin stepped to the side to allow it to pull into the dirt driveway. A man exited the truck and clapped a hardhat on his head. “Can I help you folks?”

  Austin cleared his throat. “New construction or a remodel?”

  “New construction. A developer bought the property and razed it. You interested? We had a buyer, but he pulled out.”

  Sophia asked, “Was the buyer named Patel?”

  “No, ma’am. Why? Someone you know?”

  “A friend. He’s looking, too.”

  The man fished a card from his front pocket. “If you’re interested, here’s the number for the sales office. The developer has a few other properties in Brookline.”

  “Thanks.” Sophia took the card and Austin nodded at the man, who turned toward the bed of his truck.

  When they got back into Sophia’s car, they turned to each other at the same time.

  Austin smacked his knee. “Fake name, fake address, fake phone number. How are we going to find this guy?”

  “Dr. Fazal’s memorial service. If he was a friend, he just might show up.”

  “If he wants to keep a low profile, he won’t show up. He might be worried the same guys who took out Fazal are now gunning for him.”

  “What was between those two?” She gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “Patel shows up, Dr. Fazal starts acting nervous, pretends Patel’s a patient, probably to talk to him in private and cover his tracks, and then Dr. Fazal winds up dead—murdered. Why did he have to come here and stir up trouble for Hamid?”

  A sob caught in her throat, and her fingers curled around the steering wheel in a death grip.

  Austin brushed his knuckles down her arm and covered one of her hands with his. “Hamid was never out of trouble, Sophia. Nobody had to stir it up for him. He must’ve been living life with one eye on the rearview mirror ever since we got him out of Pakistan.”

  “But he was happy. He wasn’t afraid—until this Patel showed up.”

  He squeezed her hand. “You made him happy. He cared about you, and that gave him a reason to live and hope.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Do you need to go back to the office?”

  “No. Ginny’s doing the bulk of the work, notifying patients, getting their files together for the next doctor. They still need their treatment.” She started the car and glanced over her left shoulder.

  He placed his hand on the steering wheel. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?”

  “Why?
Did I scare you on the way over?”

  “Your driving was okay. My heart rate went up only once.” And he didn’t want to tell her that was when she’d puckered her lips to drink from her bottle of water. “You look tired and stressed.”

  “I am tired and stressed, but I think you just like being in control.”

  He shrugged and then rolled his shoulders. “I’m not gonna deny that.”

  “I’m good.” She pulled away from the curb to prove it. “Back to the hotel?”

  “Unless you have somewhere else to be?”

  “I have nothing and no one right now—not even a job to go to.”

  “You have patients, too, right?”

  “My patients are all Dr. Fazal’s patients. They’re not going to follow me anywhere. I’m still in training. I’ll definitely have to look for another job, and with my background?” She gave a dry laugh that seemed to lodge in her throat. “That ain’t gonna be easy.”

  He turned his head to watch the passing scenery—clumps of old snow on the side of the road and stark trees trying to form hard buds in the still crisp air. “All that stuff... It’s in your past. You were practically a juvenile.”

  “Ah, practically, but not quite.” She twisted her head around, her gaze doing a quick search of his face. “How much do you know about me?”

  She focused her attention back on the road, and he studied her profile, her wide, generous mouth at odds with the hard glitter she let creep into her eyes all too often. What he knew about this woman only scratched the surface.

  “Of course, we did a background check of the people closest to Dr. Fazal.”

  “That wouldn’t be many, since he liked to keep to himself.”

  “I know that.”

  Sophia’s phone buzzed between them on the console.

  “Are you going to get that?”

  “I may be a bad driver but I don’t answer the phone when I’m behind the wheel.”

  His hand hovered over the phone. “Should I?”

  “If it’s important enough, the caller will leave a message.”

  Was she expecting a call from someone on that dating website? His youngest sister, who lived in LA met guys online, too. When he and his brothers had found out they’d hit the roof, but she just laughed at them. Said everyone met people like that, and it was perfectly safe. Nothing was perfectly safe. He glanced at Sophia. Especially when extremely lethal terrorists had you in their crosshairs.