Page 32 of Hidden

“I want to take your envelopes to work with me and inspect them a little closer. I’ll bring them back in one piece, I swear,” he added when she frowned.

“Why can’t we go over them together?”

“We can do that too, but whoever sent you this clearly knows who I am. I just want to see if I can pick up any clues you haven’t.”

Carrie pulled the manila envelopes from her bag and looked at them. He held his hand out for them, but she shook her head and tucked them back in her bag. “I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t trust you. But as a journalist I can’t ethically let these out of my sight.”

He clenched his fists and closed his eyes. “This is important, Carrie. I don’t want to wait any longer to figure out who this guy is.”

“You’ll have to because this is my source and I won’t risk this falling into the wrong hands. How do I know you won’t take it to your superiors and make it disappear?”

He made a disgusted noise and pointed at the door. “Fine. Let’s go.”

They were silent as they got into his SUV. She set her bag on the floor at her feet but kept her travel mug tucked between her legs. He pulled out of the garage and followed the navigation system’s directions to her office.

“I’ll be here as quickly as I can tonight, but I’m on the clock until eight.” He pulled up to the curb in front of her office. “As long as the director is home or in his office at the end of my shift, I can do my paperwork on time, otherwise I could be late.”

She reached for her bag and put her hand on the door, but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“You might want to check your hair before you go in there.”

Her brows drew together, but she flipped the visor down to look in the mirror. While she was distracted, he reached into her bag and pulled out the envelopes.

“You’re a rotten bastard. Give them back.”

He shook his head. “I’ll bring them back when I come pick you up. Now go to work.”

She flipped him off but didn’t fight him. Smart girl. He stayed parked at the curb until she was inside the building then drove away.

When he got to the CIA building, he facilitated the shift change, ran the morning briefing and then locked the conference room door to inspect the mysterious packages.

Last night, he had only gotten a cursory glance at the pictures and notebook before the evening had gone to hell.

Now he laid each photo out and examined them. Several of the men in the photos looked familiar. Most seemed to include Dino Carranza and Corbit Upwood, but there was also a senator, an undersecretary in the department of state, and a couple of other powerful movers and shakers in the city.

The women were all unfamiliar, including the ones from the Doll House Cabaret. There were eleven women. When he flipped through the notebook, it seemed there were twelve women listed. Why was there no picture of the twelfth woman, if these pictures were indeed the missing women? He scanned each of the images with an app on his phone so he could run them through facial recognition software later. Though, after the way Higgins had chastised him the other day, he was confident he wanted to keep this away from department resources. Gage would know where to find someone who could do it for him.

When he came to the photo of the picnic bench, he scrutinized it. It made little sense next to the others, and yet something about it seemed familiar. Turning it over, he read the single sentence.

There was a dot of ink in the middle of the C in call. Then it hit him, and he pulled out his phone and snapped a close-up photo of the letter. Zoomed in, the dot wasn’t a dot at all. It was a tiny star. There was something important about this photo, and he had a feeling he knew what it was. Picking it up in one hand, he grabbed another picture from the stack and held it in his other. Sure enough, the photo of the picnic table was slightly heavier than the others.

It took a minute, but he separated the paper. It was two pieces pressed together. Embedded in the layers, was a very tiny micro-chip.

This couldn’t be good. Whoever sent these packages knew he was former CIA and was using a trick he had used during a stint in Colombia to pass sensitive information along, including the location of a drop point. If he had to guess, he would say that the rest area was a place the anonymous individual wanted him or Carrie to visit.

He needed to pick Carrie’s brain again. For now, though, he had to focus on his job. This would have to wait. Pocketing the microchip, he gathered the rest of the photos and put them in his messenger bag.

There were only a handful of people who knew enough about his time as a spy to mimic his tactics. Corbit Upwood was one, but he doubted the CIA Director was sending a reporter mysterious packages. It shouldn’t be too hard to come up with a list of who else it might be and track them all down.

After escorting the director to a lunch meeting, he drove back to his office to do some paperwork. At his desk, he made a list of people who were with him in Colombia. He would track down each of them and see what they were up to now.

As he added people to the list, he realized that Corbit Upwood was in Colombia at the same time he’d been there. Was there something about that trip he should look closer at?

Pulling out his personal cell, he clicked on Carrie’s name and waited for it to ring.

“Are you calling to tell me you got off early?” There was a hint of panic in her voice.

“Sadly, no. Feeling cooped up?”

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