Playing Dead_ A Novel of Suspense - Allison Brennan [138]
Meg bypassed the bureaucracy and called a friend at Quantico to pull Congressman Riordan’s private cell phone number. This was a matter of life or death, she could justify the intrusion into his privacy.
A man answered. “Hello.”
“Jeffrey Riordan?”
“Yes. Who are you? I’m busy and this is a private number.”
“Congressman, I’m Supervisory Special Agent Megan Elliott with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I’m calling because we have reason to believe that your life is in danger and I’d like to send two agents to your location to bring you into protective custody.”
There was a long silence, but he hadn’t disconnected.
“Congressman?”
“Why do you think I’m in danger? Has there been a threat against me?”
“In the process of investigating an unrelated matter, we’ve pulled files on Waterstone Development. Today two of the principals of that company were murdered. You are the third principal, and therefore we feel that there is sufficient threat until we can determine that the cause was unrelated to your connection with Judge Drake and Mr. Mancini.”
“I see. I’ll keep my eyes open. Thank you for the warning.”
He hung up.
Meg stared at the phone. That conversation was nothing like she expected. Rage, maybe—she’d dealt with assholes in Congress before. Fear, yeah—she’d had one congresswoman who’d been terrified over threatening letters she’d received. But complete dismissal?
She straightened as she realized that Riordan hadn’t expressed any shock or asked questions about Richard Mancini’s murder. While the media was all over Judge Drake’s more public death, no one outside of law enforcement knew about Mancini. Grant had found the bodies less than an hour ago while following up on the lead from the Lora Lane murder.
Damn, Riordan was an elected official. That meant politics, and one reason she’d transferred from the Washington D.C. field office when this promotion came up in Sacramento was because she was sick and tired of politics.
She should have known it didn’t matter—politics influenced everything. She called her boss and clued him in on the situation. “I’ll handle the flack,” he said. “Go ahead and put two agents on him 24/7. We’ll use the protective custody argument to surveil him—we have ample cause there—and I’ll contact the U.S. Attorney’s office.”
“We’re already on thin ice with Collier. His attorney is foaming at the mouth that we didn’t properly extradite him from New York.”
“I’ll handle the lawyers. I’ll be there in thirty minutes. In the meantime, we need to protect our asses. If Riordan is innocent and ends up dead, we’ll have just as many problems as if we didn’t jump through the damn legal hoops.”
Meg had just issued the surveillance order on Congressman Riordan when her cell phone rang. “Agent Elliott.”
“This is Nelia Kincaid.”
“Ms. Kincaid, this isn’t a good time. I’m pleased Mr. O’Brien is out of surgery, and—”
“It’s about Claire. I’m worried.”
“What happened?”
“Tom woke up thirty minutes ago. Claire wanted to see him when he was awake, so I phoned her at her home. There was no answer. I called her office, because I know she wanted to work—she hasn’t come in.”
“I’m sure she’s sleeping. There were heavy drugs in her system with harsh side effects. But I’ll call my agent and have him check on her.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
Meg dialed Cliff Warren’s cell phone, with a tingle of worry. She’d met Claire, and while she’d tried to appease Nelia Kincaid, Meg didn’t think Claire would sleep through a ringing phone in the middle of an investigation where she had a vested interest.
Cliff didn’t answer his phone.
Meg called out to her secretary. “Bonnie, call Sac PD and have them drive by Claire O’Brien’s house and check in with her. Send two agents to follow up.”
Meg dialed Mitch. “Mitch? Are you still in Midtown?”
“I’m at