Chapter 13

Jeff drove on until he spotted a picnic and camping area on the right side of the road. He turned in and cut the engine. His heart pounded and he was already sweating in the early morning chill.

Don't panic, man. Those feds could be headed anywhere - big pileup on the autobahn or a terrorist sighting. Anything. Yeah right. When pigs fly. His gut told him otherwise.

He rested his head against the headrest and closed his eyes until he felt calmer. He had no choice but to continue on to Prague. If he still couldn't contact Kurt, well there was always someone willing to pay for information. Especially the Nigerians. They were up to their eyeballs in these e-mail scams and always looking for more people to bilk. He could still score a sweet payday.

The sky had lightened and local traffic was starting to stir. Jeff cranked the car and eased onto the road. He would pick up the autobahn in another half hour. From there he'd head south to Prague, ditch the car, and hop a flight to somewhere. South Africa, Thailand, it no longer mattered as long as he had an internet connection.

**

Paolo stopped in front of Natalie's house. The driveway was jammed with the CSI van, cop cars, and the unmarked vehicles of the FBI. Natalie sighed loudly. "I really just want to crawl into bed and pretend the last few days never happened. It's been an absolute nightmare."

Crawl into bed. Paolo had a sudden, unprofessional image of being between the sheets with Natalie. Her bed, his bed, a deserted cove on the beach. Any place where there were no cell phones, pagers, or Jeffrey Jernigan.

Whoa, dude. Do not go there. Sadly, she was off limits for too many reasons.

Paolo's phone chirped with a message. He longed to ignore it, but there was no escaping duty. He checked it and returned it to his pocket. "And the nightmare isn't over yet."

Natalie looked sharply at Paolo. "What? Talk to me."

Paolo held her look for a moment. "We need to go to the office. There's something you should see."

"Is it Jeff? Is he in custody? Oh my God, they found his body! Is that it?"

Paolo laid his hand over hers. It was an innocent gesture, but he wanted it to convey more than simple comfort. To her credit, Natalie did not try to pull away. "Calm down, Natalie. It's nothing like that. It's surveillance video."

She looked at their hands, then to Paolo. Finally, she tore her gaze away to stare out into the inky darkness.

**
Twenty minutes later they arrived at the FBI field office. Scattered lights were on throughout the building and the parking garage was still half full even though it was well after midnight.

"This place never closes, does it?" asked Natalie.

They rode the elevator in silence. With his hand at the small of her back, Paolo guided Natalie to the conference room.

"Thirsty?"

"Extremely."

"Have a seat. I'll be back."

Natalie sat down and laid her head on her good arm. Five minutes later, a diet soda was slid in front of her. Paolo took the seat at the head of the table and popped the top of a regular soda.

"I need caffeine. Or better yet, a dirty martini," Natalie announced.

Paolo exchanged the cans. "When this is over, I'll buy you a drink." Why the hell did I say that? wondered Paolo as he took a drink. Natalie was getting under his skin, but he seemed powerless to stop it.

He glanced to the back of the room. "This is from Tempelhof Airport. Roll it." The lights dimmed and the video began.

Paolo watched Natalie's face go from bored to stunned in only a few seconds. "Oh my . . . It looks like. . . Wait! Go back! Can you enlarge that shot of his hand?"

Paolo leaned forward. "What is it?"

"Can you zoom in on his hand?"

"That scar! It is him! When we moved into the house, he was trying to put up shelves in the garage. Of course, he didn't know what he was doing. He turned around to get something and the whole thing fell on him. It broke his arm and he had to have surgery."

"You're positive?"

Absolutely. Hold on. Tempelhof. That's Berlin, right? What's he doing there? The meeting was in Zurich. And why's he wearing that stupid outfit?"

"That's what we'd like to know, Mrs. Jernigan."

Another man had quietly entered the room. He was tall with a large belly. His shirt sleeves were pushed up and his striped tie was askew. A faint odor of cigarettes clung to him. "I'm Special Agent-In-Charge Cyril Greene, Mrs. Jernigan."

Paolo sighed as his boss, the man who lived to make his life hell, loomed over Natalie. No doubt to intimidate her. Greene was twice divorced, had dangerously high blood pressure, and was perpetually pissed off by the building's no smoking policy.

Greene glared at Paolo. "Did you tell her about the bodies?"

"What bodies?" asked Natalie in alarm.

"I was getting to that," Paolo answered through clenched teeth. "We're ninety-nine percent certain that your husband murdered two people in the last twenty-four hours. A man and a woman, both German nationals." Their pictures appeared on the screen. "Gerhard Baum and Monika Sterne. Do those names mean anything to you?"

Natalie's jaw dropped and she stared at the screen wide-eyed. "I feel sick."

**

Natalie struggled to open her eyes. She touched her forehead and discovered a soggy, cold paper towel plastered to it. She turned her head slightly and realized she was on a lumpy couch in an office. A low lamp was burning on a cluttered, oversized desk a few feet away.

Where am I?

A door opened and Paolo strode in. He knelt beside the couch and peeled off the paper towel. "Sorry, it was the best I could do. We're not equipped for medical emergencies here."

The horrors of the previous hours flooded Natalie's memory. "Can I go home? I feel like shit."

"Home, no. CSI is still there. But I'm taking you somewhere you can rest."

Slowly, Natalie eased to an upright position. "Fine. Let's go."

**

An attractive dark-haired woman opened the front door of a neat suburban home. Paolo leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Thanks, Ange. I owe you."

"No problem."

"Natalie, this is my sister, Angela. The twins' mother."

"Nice to meet you," mumbled Natalie.

"Ah, Natalie," said Angela, giving Paolo a pointed look. "Likewise. Please, come in. I have the guest room ready for you."