In His Sights Page 23

  The call switched right to voicemail. He left a message telling Noah he was going to be late, and that he’d call Noah back when he was done.

  Mason went back to the computer, trying again, to no avail, to find the files. About to give up, on his last try, something came back. But it wasn’t what Mason had expected. He found the files but their status said the files were locked. What the fuck? It didn’t make sense. Why would they be locked? If anything, they should simply be closed as the case was.

  Mason needed to get hold of the files even more than before. But how? He peered around his office, trying to figure out what his next move would be. The only thing he could come up with was to get to the computer of someone who had access to locked files. And how did he plan on doing that?

  He ran through his options. Whose office would allow him to retrieve the paperwork he needed?

  An idea clicked in Mason’s head—the executive conference room. The computer in there would definitely allow him access. And it’d be the least risky of his choices. Although, was sneaking into one of the higher-up’s office really a choice?

  He closed down his office, leaving it the way it’d been when he got there. At the opened door he listened and looked. With no one around, he made his way down one hall to the next, keeping his eyes and ears open. By the time he made it to the conference room, his heart was beating wildly. He was now in the enemy’s territory and would have no excuse if someone happened upon him.

  He opened the conference room door and slinked in. He quickly walked over to the computer and turned it on. He was glad it was off, indicating no one planned to use it, or therefore the conference room, for the day.

  Mason waited for the machine to boot up. Once ready, Mason typed in what he was looking for and was grateful when it came right up. He threw up another prayer of thanks the file didn’t require any special access code. Then a feeling of dread washed over him. He’d forgotten to bring a memory stick with him. Fuck. He couldn’t risk going back to his office then traipsing back to the conference room again. He only had one way to get what he needed. Once all the files were marked, he printed them. The almost silent printer sounded as loud as C-four detonating to Mason. He held his breath, hoping no one came to investigate the noise. Before long, which felt like hours to Mason, the printer finished, and he was able to close down the computer.

  Again, he took the papers and hid them down his pants and under his sweatshirt. Being caught when he wasn’t supposed to be there was one thing. Being caught there when he wasn’t supposed to be, and having papers in his possession he wasn’t supposed to have, was another whole hemisphere.

  Mason made it back through the multitude of halls, and was just about to go into his office when he heard his name being called. Fuck.

  He turned around to find Andrew Nelsen heading his way. “Hey, man. Didn’t know you were in today.”

  “Wasn’t. Just forgot something in the office.” Mason stood up tall, hoping the papers he had weren’t visible.

  Andrew stared at Mason strangely, but didn’t comment on why. Did he know Mason wasn’t supposed to be there?

  “Couldn’t find my glasses and was hoping I’d left them in my office. What are you up to?” Mason asked, curious what one of his team members was doing at work and not at home, suspended as he had been. Although this did answer the question that’d bothered him—had his whole team been suspended, or just him? Apparently, it was just Mason.

  “Just doing some filing. I was put on Mike Johnson’s team, and you know the drill. Low man on the totem pole, and all that shit.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Yeah, it’s okay. I’ll survive.”

  Mason didn’t want to ask but he couldn’t stop himself. “Have you seen any of the other guys from the team?”

  “Not since last week.” Andrew’s gaze kept moving around, as if he were looking for someone. “But as I said, I’ve been taking care of all the grunt work. They might all be luckier, getting into teams where they don’t pull that kind of crap.”

  Not wanting to be caught by whomever Andrew expected, Mason said, “I’ve got to get going. I’ll see you next week.”

  “Next week? Um. Yeah. Okay. Take care.”

  Why had Andrew sounded so surprised? “Have a great weekend.”

  “You, too.”

  Instead of walking away, Andrew remained standing outside of Mason’s office when Mason went in. Mason wasn’t going to be able to read over everything he’d printed out right then, but he needed to get the one file he’d left in his office out so he could take it home with the rest of the stuff he’d found, but he couldn’t do that with Andrew standing there.

  Mason checked his watch. “Fuck. I didn’t realize how late it is. I need to make a phone call.” He turned toward Andrew and said, “I’ll catch you later.” Then he closed his office door.

  It took a few more seconds than he would have expected for Andrew to take the hint and walk away. In the meantime, as Mason waited, he picked up his phone and dialed his own number. He needed to make it look good. Once he was sure Andrew left, he put down his phone, picked up the last folder, and added it to the rest of the papers down his pants. It was ridiculous. He should’ve brought his bike, then he’d have had a reason to carry a backpack.

  When Mason came out of his office, Andrew was nowhere around, and neither was anyone else. Mason made a quick walk to the stairs, deciding not to risk the elevator again, and made his way to the exit. He came out of the stairwell, said goodbye to the security guard and headed out to his truck.

  Once inside his truck, he again looked around, making sure he was alone in the parking garage. Just then a black car came around the bend. It seemed to slow, but then continued heading down toward the exit. Mason waited until it was out of sight, then he pulled the papers out of their hiding space. He put them down, with the plan to call Noah to let him know he was leaving work and heading to the gun range. But as he went to pull out his phone, something on the top paper caught Mason’s eyes. It was the cover page of the first report. The title Mason recognized. He had written and submitted the report. But something on this one was off. It didn’t have his signature in the top right corner. It had someone else’s. Mason picked it up to get a closer look.

  A cold chill ran down his back. He looked at the name, trying to make it out, when the same black car as before came around the parking garage bend. This time he was sure it slowed down as it past him, but again it continued to go. Mason dropped the paper in his hand and started his truck. He needed to get out of there. Paranoia was getting the better of him.

  He wished he could head right home to look over what he found. But he’d promised Noah they’d go shooting and it wasn’t fair of him to keep blowing Noah off, regardless of how important it was. Mason stopped at a red light. Shit, he was supposed to call Noah when he left. He pulled his phone from his pocket just as the traffic light turned green. He turned the corner, heading onto Mountain Side Road. He dialed the number from memory, just taking the last second to check that it was right before hitting send. His hand was on the button, just as he looked up and saw another car coming barreling toward him.

  It was too late to do anything but turn the wheel and brace for impact. The pressure pushed Mason back, his phone flying out of his hand, the sound of crushing metal causing excruciating pain to his ears. He prayed it was from the truck and not the guardrail keeping people from falling over the cliff on the side. Before his brain could dissect fully what was happening, he bucked forward, causing his head to slam into the steering wheel. His last thought was that the black car looked familiar, then everything went dark.

  * * * *

  Another hour had passed and Mason still hadn’t called. Noah’s chest tightened. Did Mason get caught at the office? What would he tell them he was there for? Was he being reprimanded? He tried Mason’s phone, but got no answer. It hadn’t gone right to voice mail as if he were on the phone; it rang about seven times before going. He tried agai
n. He waited a few more minutes and tried again; the same thing happened.

  Maybe he’d just forgotten to call. Noah thought back to their first trip to the range together. If Mason was on his way to the range and was within five miles from there, he wouldn’t have reception for his phone.

  Maybe Noah would just head out and meet up with him.

  Noah grabbed a drink before heading out to the garage to get the bike. He was as excited as a little kid to be getting to ride it again. He pressed the button to open the garage door, pushed the bike outside, and then closed the door. He sat on the bike, and started it up. The vibrations spiked the adrenaline coursing through him. He took a moment going over in his head the route he’d take. He remembered it from the night he and Mason had gone last time.

  He enjoyed the ride, the air blowing around him, and the freedom it all offered. About a half hour in, he remembered Mason pointing out where he worked. It was a little farther, and he’d pass right by it. Noah would look and see if Mason’s truck was there. If it was, he’d try to call him one more time, and if he couldn’t get through, he’d leave a note on Mason’s truck. When Noah got to the building that housed the FBI offices, he pulled into the parking garage. He was thankful the security shack was empty and the gate raised. He drove around in circles for about five minutes, canvassing the parking area. Mason’s truck wasn’t there. He pulled out of the lot and onto the road. At the corner, he got stopped at a red light. What could have gotten Mason so focused he’d forgotten to call?

  As Noah turned the corner, the view off the cliff on the north side of the road held his attention for a moment. Then something caught his eye. It was the way a set of bushes leading to the cliff sat, as if they were flattened, and the sight of something yellow mixed in with the greens.

  “Holy fuck.”

  Even before what he saw registered, with a death grip on the handle bar, Noah pulled the bike over to the side of the road and jumped off. His stomach in knots, and mind playing over the worst case scenarios, had him dialing nine-one-one before he knew what had happened.

  Chapter 26

  Noah’s body seemed to move in slow motion, taking him too long to get to the truck. Spotting a bloodied Mason caused Noah’s chest to tighten. After he spoke to the operator on the other end of the phone, and he knew Mason was breathing, he checked to make sure the car wouldn’t explode any time soon. The car seemed stable, but unfortunately, Mason didn’t. “Oh, fuck. Mason.” The still buckled safety belt held Mason’s slumped body in place, but the straps hadn’t prevented Mason from slamming into the steering wheel, causing the huge gash oozing blood on his face. The fact the air bag hadn’t deployed disturbed Noah.

  “Mason. Can you hear me? It’s Noah.” As Noah spoke to Mason, Noah checked Mason’s pulse, which felt strong. Noah pulled off his jacket and ripped off his shirt; crumpling it up in a ball, he held the material against Mason’s head, making sure to apply pressure. Mason flinched.

  Noah’s heart stopped. “Mason, can you hear me?”

  “Noah?” The word came out of Mason’s mouth at barely a whisper.

  “I’m here, Mas. You’re going to be okay.”

  “Did I hurt them? Are they okay?” Mason blinked open his eyes, then clenched his jaw.

  “Who? Who are you talking about?”

  “The other car. I tried to move out of the way. The car came right at me.” Mason’s voice sounded rough, as if he’d eaten a mouth full of gravel. He moved his hands to Noah’s, Mason’s grip weak. “Did I hurt the driver?”

  Other car? What? There wasn’t another vehicle anywhere nearby. “Mas, there is no other car.” And from what Noah could tell, the damage to Mason’s truck appeared to have been caused by the tree, bushes and the guardrail he’d hit. If there had in fact been another car, there wasn’t any evidence. The only debris seemed to have come from Mason’s truck. And if another car had been involved, where the hell was it? Wouldn’t they have stopped when Mason ran off the road?

  Mason eyes fluttered closed. His pale complexion made him appear ready to pass out. “Mason, come on, baby. Stay with me. Help will be here any minute.”

  Mason’s face scrunched, and he let out a painful moan. Relief washed over Noah—Mason remained conscious.

  “The car. I saw it earlier.” Mason opened his eyes again, his stare burning into Noah.

  “Earlier?” Noah searched the area, checking if maybe he’d missed another car. There was none.

  “I definitely saw it earlier.”

  “When?” Noah was confused with what Mason was trying to tell him.

  “My papers. I need my papers.” Mason raised his voice and tried to move around. “They’re on the floor.”

  Noah held on to Mason. Not sure what Mason was talking about, but wanting to calm him down, Noah said, “I’ll pick them up once the ambulance arrives and the paramedics are working with you.”

  “Make sure you take them. Don’t give them to anyone else. Promise, Noah. Promise me.” Mason’s voice sounded shaky, full of desperation, and Noah didn’t think it had anything to do with pain.

  Again, what the hell? Still not understanding what Mason said about another car, now Noah found himself stuck with trying to figure out why the papers Mason looked for were so important, and who Mason was afraid Noah would give them to.

  Before Noah fully comprehended all Mason had said, Mason closed his eyes and his body turned limp.

  “Mas, baby. Can you hear me?” Noah’s eyes burned, and his heartbeat raced. Where the hell was the ambulance? It felt as if hours had passed since he’d called them.

  Instead of listening to the clock tick in his head, Noah’s focus traveled back to Mason and seeing if he had any other wounds besides the one on his head. Noah wanted to take him out of the truck, check him over more thoroughly, but he’d wait until the paramedics arrived, in case Mason had a problem with his back. Noah tended to Mason’s head as he continued to talk, trying to get through to Mason again. The information Mason mentioned about the other car continued to race through Noah’s head.

  “Mason, you’re going to be okay. You just need to hold on for me.” Noah peered at the driver’s side front-end panel of the truck. The way it lay smashed in, confirmed what he’d thought in the beginning. Mason had hit the tree standing by the road before careening through the bushes and crashing into the guardrail. Thank God for the guardrail, because who knew what might have happened if it hadn’t existed. Well, Noah had a clear picture of what would have happened, and it caused his stomach to sour and his legs to go weak.

  The piercing sound of the sirens broke through the pounding in Noah’s ears. “Mason, help’s almost here. Hold on, baby.” Concern Mason lay passed out held Noah hostage. “You’re going to be all right, Mas. You have to be.” You have to be. Noah used his free hand to wipe at his burning eyes.

  The ambulance and the police both arrived at the same time. The paramedics asked Noah to move back to let them work. He kept his stare locked on each of their movements, as he talked to police. He didn’t have much to say. He explained how he’d found Mason, and when they’d last talked. Noah also mentioned Mason’s comments about the other car running him off the road. When the police stepped toward the road to check around, Noah walked with them. No skid marks marred the road on either side. Mason’s side would have been more likely because he had come from a sharp turn and had probably still traveled at a slow speed. But the lack of marks on the other side of the road made it less likely another car had been involved unless they’d purposely aimed for Mason and never hit their brakes. Noah’s heartbeat raced, and he fisted his hands.

  When the paramedics finished checking over Mason, they loaded him into the ambulance. They offered Noah a ride, but he had the bike and now the truck to take care of. The ambulance sped onto the road with their sirens blaring.

  The police gave Noah a number of a tow company, and Noah called them immediately. The woman who answered promised Noah a call back from the owner.

  The
police car pulled back onto the street minutes after the ambulance left—their sirens silent.

  Once alone, Noah headed back over to the edge of the cliff—feet from where Mason’s truck had rammed the guardrail. Noah’s chest constricted and a fear unlike any he’d experienced before raced through him, almost bringing him to his knees. Mason would have only needed to have driven a little faster for him to have crashed through the metal railing and plummeted into the rock-encrusted gully. Had he gone over the edge, the gorge’s height and width would have crushed Mason’s truck and Mason right along with it.

  Noah closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had trouble accepting Mason was all right—that in a mere matter of minutes, Noah could have lost Mason. Forever. Nausea roiled through Noah. He braced himself, on the verge of vomiting. He moved past Mason’s truck, trying to erase the view from his mind, and continued with deep breaths. He stood by the road, trying to force his brain under control when his phone rang.

  He checked the number, then pressed talk. The man from the tow truck company identified himself.

  When Noah finished the call, he hung up and walked over to the bike. The tow truck would arrive within the hour to take care of Mason’s truck, and they’d be in touch with Noah later. That left Noah to head over to the hospital, his only worry for the moment Mason.

  He took the truck keys from the ignition and put them under the driver’s side mat. He finished and leaned to close the door when he remembered the papers Mason had wanted him to get. He peered at the seat, then on the floor. Both areas sat empty. He jumped into the truck and checked behind both seats. They were empty. Concern took hold. If there were no papers, what had Mason been talking about?

  Noah closed the door and headed over to his bike. He took one more quick check of the road, then around the area, trying to find anything indicating tracks from another vehicle. Noah hoped to prove Mason had been right and his head wasn’t as bad as Noah thought. But Noah couldn’t find anything.