Daring Deception Read online

  "There could be a splinter faction."

  "That's what we need to figure out. What about the other man you mentioned? What's his involvement?"

  "He was a more radical member of the LNF, but he runs a gym now. He has no affiliation with any groups. He has a record, but it's for bar fights and vandalizing a neighbor's property who he had a beef with."

  "Sounds like someone with an anger problem."

  "Definitely. But I don't see a motive to what happened today. Ten years ago, I did, because Hank was very actively involved with Donovan Byrne, the leader of the LNF. But both Lauren and Hank told me that the group completely fell apart after Byrne died, and I have no evidence to prove otherwise. Believe me, I've looked."

  Emi gave her a smile. "I believe you. So, what's next?"

  "I need to get to Kevin, and I have a secret weapon."

  "What's that?"

  "My father. He's ultimately Kevin's boss. I'm going to have dinner at my parents' house. I'll get my dad to call him. I know he'll pick up the phone for my dad."

  "Good idea. You should know that Rob got a call from your father earlier."

  She looked at Emi in surprise. "Why? What was that about?"

  "He apparently wanted to put pressure on the investigation, because Lexitech is a Carlson company. He also wanted to make sure that you weren't being put in danger."

  "He has no right to interfere."

  "I think your father believes he has the power to do anything he wants," Emi said gently. "Rob knows your father has tremendous influence with the top brass, people who might control his career, so he'll want to solve this case as fast as possible."

  "I will shut my father down tonight."

  "Good. Because Rob may try to get you out of the investigation to appease your dad."

  Anger ran through her at the idea that her father was trying to control her career. "I'll take care of it," she said with determination. "Thanks for the heads-up."

  "No problem. I'm going to grab a salad from the café across the street. I'll talk to you later."

  She picked up her phone and texted her mother: I'm coming to dinner. See you soon.

  She immediately got back a dozen heart emojis. Her mother was happy now, but she might not be quite so happy when she got done talking to her dad.

  Chapter Eleven

  Caitlyn's parents lived in a three-story mansion in the Presidio, a posh, hilly neighborhood in San Francisco with views of the Golden Gate Bridge. Their stately home had iron gates at the entrance and tall trees around the front and sides of the house, while the backyard looked out at the bay. She put in a code to enter through the gates and then drove up to the home.

  It was seven, and there were lights on in many of the rooms. It astounded her how lit up her parents' house always was, considering there were only two adults currently living there. While there were other staff, including a housekeeper, chef and gardener, they all lived off-site. She'd thought her parents might move to something smaller once all their kids were grown and gone, but they seemed to be comfortable where they were.

  She got out of the car and moved up the steps to the grand front door. She put in her code and then entered the house, stepping into a beautiful foyer with a two-story ceiling, a sweeping staircase, and a large, round glass table holding an ornate vase of fresh flowers. Some things never changed. Her mother loved floral arrangements, especially those including lavender, and there were always fresh, colorful flowers in every room.

  "Caitlyn!" her mother exclaimed, as she came down the hall from the kitchen and family room area at the back of the house.

  Her mom had dark-brown hair and brown eyes that were a bit on the cool, reserved side, as were her clothes. Even when she was in her house, Rebecca Carlson was stylish and conservatively dressed in black slacks and a cashmere sweater. She was extremely fit for her sixty-six years, a result of the many hours she spent with her personal trainer doing Pilates, yoga, and weight training. She was also an avid tennis player and golfer and spent most of her free time at the nearby golf and tennis club.

  "I'm so happy to see you, Caitlyn." Her mom gave her a smile, and then they exchanged a quick embrace. Hands-on affection wasn't really the Carlson way. "How are you doing?"

  "I'm fine."

  "You look tired."

  "It's been a long day."

  Her mother's sharp gaze swept her face. "You'll stay here tonight, won't you?"

  "I hadn't thought that far ahead."

  "I don't want you at a hotel when your room is waiting for you."

  As much as she wanted to argue that she had somewhere else to go, the truth was she hadn't bothered to book a room and she might as well stay here. "All right, but just for tonight."

  "I'll take it. Is there any news?"

  "Today is the beginning of what will probably be another long investigation."

  "With hopefully a better outcome," her mother finished.

  "Hopefully. Is Dad in his study?"

  "As always."

  "I'm going to say hello."

  "Of course. Your brothers will be arriving soon, and dinner is at seven thirty."

  "You invited everyone over?" she asked in surprise. "You didn't even know if I was going to come."

  "I was hopeful. But even if you couldn't make it, I felt like we needed to be together this evening. The news brought back bad memories for all of us."

  "Well, it will be nice to see everyone." It had been almost a year since she'd seen her family in person. She hadn't made it home for the holidays due to work commitments. "How is Lana feeling?" she asked, referring to her brother Baxter's wife, who was four months pregnant with their first child.

  "She has been having awful morning sickness. She's worried, of course, that something will go wrong since she had a miscarriage last time around."

  "I hope she's all right. How is Baxter doing?"

  "Honestly, I'm not sure. I think he's worn out from the stress of trying to have a child. There seems to be some tension between him and Lana, but a healthy, bouncing baby boy will be the cure for that."

  "A boy? That's great."

  "Another Carlson to carry on the family name. Your father is very excited about it."

  "I'm sure." Her father was big on family and legacy building. The Carlson empire had been passed down from one son to the next for over a hundred years. "How is Spencer? Is he dating anyone?"

  "I don't know. He doesn't tell me anything, and he's not getting along very well with your father, so he doesn't spend much time here."

  "What are they fighting about now?"

  "The usual—business," her mother said with a dismissive wave. "Spencer and your dad just don't think the same way. I keep telling Chuck to give Spencer a chance to find his own lane at the company. But they're always arguing about something. Anyway, you know I don't like to get involved in company matters. Why don't you see if you can get your father out of his study?"

  "All right." She was happy to have an opportunity to speak to her dad before her brothers and her sister-in-law arrived.

  Her father's study was located on the first floor at the opposite end of the house. As she neared the open door to his den, she heard him on the phone, and she paused, not sure she should interrupt.

  "I told you, I'm not playing," her father said, a menacing threat in his voice. "I want to know what the hell happened today. If you can't do it, I'll find someone who can. Heads are going to roll."

  He slammed the phone down, and she couldn't help wondering who had been at the other end of that phone call. Hopefully, it hadn't been Rob. She knew his heart was in the right place, but he wasn't helping.

  She stepped forward, knocking on the door as she moved into the room. "Dad?"

  Her father had been pacing the floor behind his massive desk when she entered. As soon as he saw her, the tension in his expression eased. "Caitlyn. Your mother wasn't sure you'd come."

  "Here I am."

  He walked around his desk to give her a hug. "I've been
worrying about you all day."

  "I'm okay."

  He stepped back to give her a sharp look. "Are you lying to me?"

  He'd asked her that question many times growing up, and her answer had always been the same: No. She'd been too intimidated to ever lie to him. He wasn't particularly tall or broad, but he had a powerful presence and a take-charge attitude that no one could ignore.

  "I'm not lying," she told him. "Today's explosion brought back some rough memories, but I'm handling them. I'm hoping this new case will not only be solved quickly but will also give us a clue to the past."

  "Not if the investigators don't do a better job. I know you're one of them now, but the FBI was useless before."

  "I can't entirely disagree. But this time will be different because I'm working the case, and I will get answers."

  "At what cost?" He shook his head, a grim look in his gaze. "I don't like that you're getting dragged back into that darkness. It took you years to come out of it. I've never understood why you had to join the FBI, why you had to keep going back to the worst day of your life."

  "My job is not just about the past. Being an agent has changed me, Dad. I'm doing good in the world, and I love that."

  "I guess it's good that you like it. But I wish you would have come to work for our company. You could be running things alongside your brothers."

  "It's not my thing. I like my career choice. Speaking of which, you need to back off Rob Carpenter."

  "Not a chance. He needs to feel the pressure."

  "He's working as hard as he can, and he's letting me help even though I'm not assigned to his office. However, if you're in his face all day long that could change, and that would be a big mistake. I know more about Bolton, eco-terrorists, and the past bombing than anyone else. I'm the best bet for solving the case. If Rob kicks me off the team, that won't happen."

  "I will make sure he doesn't do that."

  "I know you think you're all powerful, but you don't run the FBI."

  "I have friends in higher places than Rob Carpenter. And it's not just about you. Kevin was supposed to be in that auditorium today. Carlson Industries was targeted again."

  "I know. Speaking of Kevin, he's not returning anyone's calls. That's not helpful. You need to get him to talk to me."

  "He's shaken, Caitlyn."

  "I understand—better than anyone—but I still need to talk to him. And, frankly, his silence is making him look like he's guilty of something."

  "Of agreeing to speak at his old college?" her father asked in surprise.

  "People who have nothing to hide don't usually avoid our calls."

  "He doesn't have anything to say; he wasn't there. He was still in his car when the bomb went off. It's the activists you should be talking to. They're the ones who always cause trouble."

  "Everyone will be interviewed, Dad, but I still need to talk to Kevin. I'm concerned that he may have some knowledge of someone from our shared past that might be involved again. He went to Bolton. He was there when I almost lost my life. He shouldn't be afraid to speak to me."

  "I can ask him to get in touch with you. I think he's just rattled. He feels like he had a very close call."

  "Can you call him now and then hand me the phone?"

  Her father hesitated. "You want me to ambush him?"

  "It's hardly an ambush. Now I'm wondering why you're reluctant to call him when you're eager to get this case resolved."

  "Fine." He moved back to the desk and grabbed his phone, putting in the call.

  She could hear it ringing.

  "He's not answering," her father said.

  "Leave a message. Tell him to call me as soon as possible. That you'll expect him to make that happen tonight."

  Her father frowned. He wasn't one to be ordered about, especially not by his daughter, but he did as she'd requested.

  "Satisfied?" he asked.

  "I appreciate your help." She swallowed hard, knowing that she needed to bring up Quinn before everyone else arrived. "There's one more thing I need to ask you. It's about Quinn."

  His demeanor shifted—his body tensing, his gaze narrowing, his jaw turning hard as a rock. "I had hoped to never hear his name again. He's the one who got you into that damn group of militants. He's the one you almost lost your life for."

  "I know who he is. What I don't know is why he left. Did you tell him to get out of my life? Did you threaten him? Did you force him to leave?"

  "Is that what he told you?"

  "That's not an answer."

  He stared back at her. "Are you seeing him again?"

  "That's also not an answer. Why are you deflecting? The questions aren't difficult. Did you tell him to get out of my life or not?"

  Her father lifted his chin, defiance in his brown eyes. "Yes, I told him he needed to go; he'd hurt you enough."

  She'd known it was the truth even before he'd confirmed it, but she was still incredibly disappointed. "You had no right to do that."

  "I'm your father; I have every right to protect you. I don't regret it. I'd do it again. I believed then and now that Quinn knew who set that bomb and he protected them instead of you. Look at his history. He practically founded the group. He came from a violent family. His father made bombs for the IRA. Quinn had more skills in that regard than anyone else. And he didn't go with you to the ceremony when he was supposed to. He conveniently had to study at a time that was suddenly changed."

  Her father had certainly written an explicit narrative to explain his actions.

  "Quinn was eleven when his father was killed," she said. "He didn't know how to make a bomb. That was never proven by anyone."

  "The FBI liked him for a suspect."

  "Was that because you kept pointing them in his direction?"

  "They were following the facts. I did you a favor, Caitlyn."

  "How can you say that? I loved Quinn."

  "You were too young to see him for who he was. I thought you started to get it afterward. He barely came around. And when he did, you wouldn’t even talk to him. He wasn't making you happy. He was making things more difficult."

  "I wasn't happy whether he was there or not. I was wrecked. I was in physical and emotional pain."

  "I know, and I hated seeing you like that. I missed my little girl, the one who was joyful and innocent. I wanted you to be the way you were before you met him."

  "You mean before the bomb went off. Quinn didn't try to kill me, Dad. I know that."

  "Well, I don't."

  Their gazes clashed for a long second. "You shouldn't have sent him away. You should have let me handle it. It was my relationship, my life."

  "I won't apologize. I still think it was the best decision. Have you seen him again?"

  "No." She realized as she said it that this might actually be the first time she'd lied to her dad. But knowing her father was embroiling himself in the current case and his complete lack of apology for what he'd done before, she couldn't trust him not to get in the middle again.

  His gaze shifted as voices rang through the house. "It sounds like everyone is here."

  "I need you to promise me that you'll back off Rob Carpenter."

  "Why should I?"

  "Because you will not be a help—you will only be another problem that I have to deal with. I'm an agent, Dad. This is my job. And I am very good at it. Let me do it without your interference."

  He stared back at her with what looked like admiration in his eyes. "I've never heard you sound so confident or determined. I used to think you were the least like me out of my three children, but maybe I was wrong." He paused. "But I wasn't wrong about Quinn. He didn't tell you everything, Caitlyn. He had secrets you knew nothing about."

  She wanted to argue, but she couldn't. She didn't know if Quinn had had a secret back then, but he certainly had one now.

  Dinner was awkward. Caitlyn couldn't pinpoint exactly what was wrong, but there was a lot of tension in the group. They didn't talk much about the blast, as her mother
wanted to keep the conversation light, but the atmosphere was still thick with unspoken words and emotions. It reminded her of the weeks and months after the blast when everyone had tiptoed around her, not speaking of anything consequential, but the lack of discussion and acknowledgment of what had happened to her had only made things worse. It felt the same way now. After an hour of stilted conversation, she wished she hadn't come home.

  She had a feeling she wasn't the only one not enjoying dinner. Her brother Baxter, who was seven years older than her, appeared more strained than normal. While he was solicitous of his wife, Lana, making sure she had everything she needed, he didn't seem to be fully present.

  Lana, a tall blonde with a small baby bump, got excited when she spoke about the baby, but when the conversation moved onto other matters, she quickly lost interest. And then there was Spencer…

  Spencer had light brown hair, streaked with gold. Two years older than her, Spencer was usually funny and outgoing, but tonight he was quiet. He seemed to be particularly terse with her father, but he also had little to say to her.

  He caught her gaze as she finished her coffee. "Want to take a walk outside?" he asked.

  She was more than happy to say yes and leave the tension behind.

  They left the dining room and wandered into the backyard. A large deck offered patio seating, a built-in barbecue, and an outdoor kitchen. Beyond that was a beautifully landscaped garden, and a grotto that contained a hot tub. From the yard, she could see the lights of the Golden Gate Bridge.

  She stared at those lights for a long minute. Bolton was on the other side of those lights, in the dark hills. When she'd been a student there, she'd felt like she was a million miles from home, but she really hadn't gone that far.

  "This place always looks the same," Spencer murmured, digging his hands in the pockets of his khaki pants. "The world changes, but this house, this yard, never does. It's the same flowers, the same plants. Even when the patio chairs needed to be recovered, Mom just got the same material and had them redone."