Marta’s brow wrinkled. “How can they charge her with his death if they don’t have his body?”
“The knife was covered with her fingerprints and Marcus’s blood. The neighbors had heard them arguing loudly. They found his car in a nearby lake. They’re calling it a domestic homicide with no body. The authorities believe they have enough evidence. Her attorney wants her to plead self-defense.”
Draco leaned closer, his gaze locking onto Cate’s. “You don’t think there was a murder at all, do you?” He remained frozen, so still that Cate could imagine him exactly as he’d be as a sniper, waiting for the kill shot.
“I think Marcus Calloway is alive.” Cate met Draco’s gaze and held it. “I think he staged his fake murder so that he could disappear with whatever he was trying to hide.”
“That’s a lot of work for someone to fake his own death,” Hammer said.
“And a hell of an accusation,” Crusher said.
Cate lifted her chin. “It’s a hell of an accusation for a woman to be accused of—a woman who rescues turtles from the road.” Her voice cracked as she pictured Dana in orange on the other side of the plexiglass, dazed, confused...defeated. She pushed back her feelings, squared her shoulders, and said, “That asshole is alive. I just know it.” Her gaze moved from person to person at the table, stopping when it reached Draco. “Somehow he collected his own blood, smeared it on the knife and at the scene and then framed his wife to take the fall.”
“Why?” Marta asked.
“I think he did it so he could disappear with whatever he was trying to hide. He needed to be dead to keep anyone from looking for him. Framing his wife would take the heat off him and put it on Dana. He’d be the victim. Dead. As the woman who survived, she’d take all the attention off him.”
“Marcus worked in the State Department,” Cate’s father said, his brow furrowing. “He was in procurement, logistics, the kind of work that sends a man overseas with signature authority for a lot of other people’s money.”
Cate nodded, already aware of what her father had stated. “Dana said he talked a lot about his colleague, Garrett Sterling.”
Her father nodded. “Garrett Sterling is in contracting oversight. He works two floors up from my office. I can contact him and see if he knows anything about Calloway’s whereabouts.” Her father’s brows drew together. “Cate, what kind of mess have you stumbled into?”
Her lips pressed together, Cate shrugged. “I don’t know yet.” She drew a breath into her constricted lungs and let it out slowly. “When I went through Marcus Calloway’s home office, I found a bill of lading hidden behind a photo frame. It was from a freight company in London, with a phone number scrawled across the bottom in Marcus’s handwriting. Before I went to London, I called the number. A man answered—Freddie Hackett—a chatty Brit. He told me Marcus was in charge of a project and would be in the office the next day.” She gave her father a weak smile. “I booked a flight and arrived in London the next day, determined to find Marcus Calloway, alive and well.”
“And did you find Calloway?” Phantom asked.
Silence stretched as Cate relived the day she’d arrived in London and taken the train out to the office of the freight company on the bill of lading. Her heart beat fast. That day had been burned into her memory.
“You didn’t find Marcus Calloway, did you?” Draco asked softly and reached for her hand.
She shook her head, words lodged in her throat as her fingers curled around hers.
“You walked into a kidnapping,” Draco said, tugging on her hand to pull her close enough to wrap her in his arms. “Am I right?”
She nodded, a single tear sliding down her cheek.
“What was it—a bag over your head?” he tipped her chin up.
Cate nodded, another tear following the first.
“And two weeks of terror I don’t even want you to think about.” Draco wrapped his arms around her and held her close, his chin resting on the top of her head. “I’m sorry we didn’t get there sooner.”
“But you came,” she whispered, her fingers curling into his shirt, grounding her.
When he released her, she glanced up into Draco’s eyes.
He lifted his beer mug, his fingers wrapping so tightly around the handle that his knuckles turned white. “Sounds like you were never a random target,” he said and took a short, tight swallow of the golden liquid before continuing. “London wasn’t an opportunity. Because you called that number, they had yours.”
Her chest tight, Cate gave a brief nod. “I’ve had a lot of downtime, sitting alone in that room at Helvetic BioSolutions. It was enough time to come to the same conclusion.”
Her father muttered a curse and started to rise. “Sweetheart, you need protection. I need to make some calls.”
Cate laughed and waved to the gathered group. “What do you call these people sitting around the table?”
Devon Marsh’s face flushed a ruddy red as he sank back into his seat. “Right. You’re right. Any one of the people here tonight could provide your protection.” His gaze swept the gathering.
Draco raised his hand. “I’m on it, sir.”