Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Alisa doubted food would help her feel better, but as she went through the cafeteria line, her stomach growled, and she ended up filling her tray with spaghetti, salad, and garlic bread. Jason picked up the same items as she did, throwing in a couple of giant chocolate chip cookies at the end. She used her hospital keycard to get them a discount, and then they sat down at a table in the atrium, surrounded by lush plants and calming water features—a tranquil setting that Alisa desperately needed.

It was only five, but the yogurt and banana she'd grabbed before coming to the hospital this morning seemed like a very long time ago. So much had happened in one day. She could barely process it all, and she'd lived through it. She could certainly understand why her mother had trouble comprehending the magnitude of their problems.

"One of these cookies is for you," Jason told her. "Save room."

"I should say no, but they look good. And I didn't have lunch."

"You also survived a very traumatic car crash. If that doesn't deserve a little sugar, I don't know what does."

"Good point," she said as she twirled her spaghetti around her fork and popped the bite into her mouth. It tasted delicious, and Jason was happily digging into his plate of pasta as well.

For several minutes, they just ate, and it felt good to not talk or think or speculate. Her body was aching from the knock on the head she'd taken last night to the cuts and bruises she'd sustained today. Besides food, what she really needed was a hot shower. But that would have to wait.

"Do you eat here a lot?" Jason asked.

"Not really. I usually bring a lunch and eat in the lounge or on the rooftop deck. I go home for dinner. I'm ready to get out of here at the end of my shift."

"Do you live alone?"

"I do, but I have nursing friends in the building, so it never feels lonely." She paused. "What about you? Where do you live?"

"Hermosa Beach."

"That's a nice town. Do you have a view of the beach?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. I bought a third-floor condo with an ocean view last year."

"That sounds great. I don't live by the beach. But I love going there. I've always found the ocean to be relaxing."

"I love sleeping with the windows open," he said. "Hearing actual waves crash on a beach is much better than a sound machine. Although, I have to admit I don't spend a lot of time there. I work a lot, and sometimes my job requires me to go undercover and establish a housing situation somewhere else for weeks at a time."

"That sounds interesting and dangerous."

"It's often both."

"You never told me the name of the person you came to the hospital to look for last night. Maybe I would recognize the person."

"His name is Arseni Novikov. Does that ring a bell?"

She shook her head. "I'm sure I've never heard that name before. Is he from Chechnya like Victor Kashin?"

"No. He was born in Leningrad, Russia, which is now St. Petersburg. He's a very dangerous man. He's been on the FBI's most wanted list for three decades."

Her eyes widened. "Really? That long? Why can't anyone catch him?"

"He doesn't come to the States very often. That he's here now is disturbing. The last time he showed up three years ago, a bomb went off in a courthouse, killing six people and injuring dozens more."

"Oh, my God!" she said. "I remember that explosion. I'd just started working in the ER. It was madness that night. We were one of three hospitals getting victims, and no one knew what was going on."

His jaw tightened. "It was a terrible scene."

"Were you there?" she asked, seeing a disturbing darkness in his eyes.

"I got there too late to stop him."

There was raw emotion in his voice, which surprised her, because he wasn't a man who appeared to show much emotion. "I'm sorry. Did you know someone who died? There was a lot of pain in your voice just now."

"I didn't know anyone who was injured at the courthouse, but my partner and my father were trying to get to Novikov before he could set off the bombs, and they were both gunned down. My father died at the scene, and my partner was seriously hurt. It has taken her a long time to recover, and she's still not completely back to normal."

"Oh, my God! Jason, I'm so sorry." She reached across the table to put her hand on his arm. "I had no idea."

He shrugged, his lips tight, his profile hard. He really wasn't a man who liked to show his feelings. She probably should have let it go, but she was curious to know more.

"Why was your father there? Was he also in the FBI?"

"Yes. He was an FBI agent. He spent most of his career trying to stop Novikov and his reign of terror. Now it’s my turn," Jason said, his voice hardening. "This time, I won’t let him slip through my fingers."

There was no trace of doubt in his voice, just hard-edged determination. "So, this is not just your job; it's personal."

"Yes. It's very personal. But it's also my job. Both things can be true. And you should keep eating."

She let go of his arm as she sat back in her seat, thinking about what he'd told her. "This terrorist you’re after…I can’t believe he’s targeting me or my mom. We’ve never even been to Russia. We’ve barely left California. As a family, our biggest trip was to the Grand Canyon. My dad is a teacher. My mom is a librarian. Do they sound like people with terrorist connections?"

"No, but there is a connection."

"Maybe not," she argued. "Whatever is happening to my family could be completely unrelated." Even as she made that case, she wondered if that would be better or worse. Right now, she had Jason and the FBI's attention and protection because they thought she was connected to their case. If she wasn't, would she and her parents be on their own?

"Kashin and Novikov shared the same vehicle at some point on Tuesday evening after Novikov arrived in the US," Jason told her. "Kashin went after you. He's what links you to Novikov."

She tried to eat a few more bites, but she no longer felt hungry. She wiped her mouth and set down her fork. "Okay, so what happens now?"

"We finish eating and then check on your mother. You're going to tell me you can sleep in the chair next to your mother's bed, but that's not good enough. You have to be exhausted and probably in pain. I know my aches are getting worse as the day goes on. So, after we check on your mom, I'll take you to a safe house."

"I would like to take a shower and change my clothes at some point," she admitted. "But I also want to see how my mother's labs turn out. Her blood work should be back around seven thirty or eight. I don't want to leave before then. "

He thought about that, then said, "That's fine. I need to go into my office. I'll walk you to her room, and then I'll come back in a couple of hours."

"You must be getting bored babysitting me."

He smiled. "Not at all. Life has been anything but boring since I met you."

"Well, that's true."

"I'm sure you'll want to take some clothes to the safe house. Why don't you give me your keys and I'll go by your apartment and pack you a bag?"

She looked at him in surprise. "You could just take me to my apartment on the way to the safe house, and I can run in and grab some things."

"I don't want you near your apartment. I don't know what we'll find there. I'd rather check it out on my own. If you don't feel comfortable with me going through your clothes, I can take Savannah with me."

She didn't like the idea of either of them going through her clothes. "Are you using this to get into my apartment and look around? Do you not believe me when I say I don't know what's going on?"

He met her gaze. "I believe you, Alisa. This is standard protocol. I'm doing everything I can to keep you safe. After what happened at your parents' house, I'd rather not expose you to anything at your apartment."

"I was there last night. It was fine."

"That was last night."

"Okay," she said, too tired to argue. And it wasn't like she was hiding anything, except maybe a messy underwear drawer. The idea of Jason going through her underwear drawer made her more than a little uncomfortable. It felt too intimate, although it probably wasn't as intimate as the kiss they'd exchanged earlier, and making a big deal out of it would make it too big of a deal. She reached into her bag and pulled out her keys. As she handed them to him, she said, "Do you know what happened to my car? "

"It was towed to a police yard, where it will be inspected by a forensics expert. But it's not salvageable. You'll have to get a new vehicle."

"I know. That's a problem for another day. I should get back upstairs."

"Do you want to eat your cookie?"

"I'd like to save it for later."

"Me, too." He wrapped both cookies in a napkin. "We'll take them to go."

They left the cafeteria and walked through the lobby, taking the elevator to the sixth floor. The security guard gave them both a nod and said everything was quiet. The nurse had been in to take some blood, but no one else had come near the room.

She was about to open the door when Jason got a text. His expression stiffened as he swore under his breath."

"What is it?" she asked, her stomach knotting. It couldn’t be more bad news…could it?

His gaze was hard and unhappy. "The vehicle transporting Victor Kashin to jail was in an accident. Kashin is dead. So is the guard who was in the back of the van with him. The driver is in critical condition."

Her stomach turned over. "Was it an accident?"

"I doubt it. Someone wanted to make sure Victor didn't talk."

"So, he's dead." She didn't know how to feel about that. She had no compassion for the man who had tried to kidnap her and probably would have killed her if he'd had the chance. But it still seemed surreal that he was dead.

"Yes. Which means Kashin can't tie Novikov to anything that happened to you. But his death won't stop us from finding Novikov. We just have to keep digging. Let's check on your mom, and then I'm going to take off."

"All right." She opened the door and entered the room, which still had the powerful scent of bleach in the air. She checked the monitors. Her mother's vitals were good. She was asleep, but she didn't seem in any distress.

"Everything okay?" Jason asked.

She nodded. "It looks like it."

"Then I'll take off. Don't leave this room until I come back. It's important that you don't."

"I'll stay here," she promised, feeling touched that he cared so much about her safety. "I'll see you soon."

When Jason left the room, she felt a chill, a void created by his absence and also by the shocking news that Victor Kashin had been killed. She didn't care that he was dead, but she worried any clues they might have gotten about who had hired him to kidnap her had died along with him. And if someone could take him out so ruthlessly and so easily, then she could never really think she was safe.

As she glanced down at her sleeping mother, she couldn't help wondering if her mom knew more than she was saying, because something was very wrong in their family. Her parents had always been like two peas in a pod, so close to each other, so loving, so honest. Their relationship had set the bar for what she wanted in a relationship.

Now she was terribly afraid it was all a sham. She just really hoped that it wasn't her father who had poisoned her mother. That was unfathomable.

But even if he hadn't done that, he'd left them alone while their lives were in danger, and what kind of man did that?

She had a feeling she wasn't going to like the answer.

Jason got into his office at seven, and despite the hour, there were several people still at their desks. Seeing Savannah, Nick, and Flynn in the conference room, he headed there, eager to find out the latest information on Kashin's accident.

"We just got back the results on the items taken from Mrs. Hunt's hospital room," Savannah told him. "There was a slow-release capsule planted in the flowers that were delivered by the orderly, who we have now identified as Victor Kashin."

He blew out a breath at that piece of information. "That makes sense. He hit the hospital room before he went to the garage."

"It appears so," Savannah agreed. "The capsule probably released a toxin in the air over a gradual period that didn't appear to be a dose strong enough to kill her. Just make her sick."

"Which means her condition is being controlled by someone who wants her incapacitated but not yet dead. That sounds very much like Novikov. Poison is one of his specialties."

"But why Mrs. Hunt?" Savannah asked.

"That's the question. What happened to Kashin?"

"A truck hit the transport van. Kashin and a guard were deceased at the scene. The truck was abandoned four blocks from the accident site. We're coordinating with local police to search the area for the driver of the truck and to look for potential witnesses." She pointed to the monitor. "We have two shots of the driver running away, but we can't get facial recognition."

Dressed in baggy track pants and a sweatshirt, the driver had long brown hair that was pulled back in a ponytail. He was shorter, slighter, and younger than Novikov. "That's not Novikov, which isn't surprising. He would have hired someone to do the hit-and-run. Someone who may not even know who they're working for." He blew out a frustrated breath. "We should have seen this coming. Novikov wasn't going to leave Kashin alive to talk to us."

"It was impossible to predict he'd take out the transport van," Flynn said.

He knew that, but the result still bothered him.

"We also checked into the fire at the Hunt residence," Savannah continued. "A doorbell camera across the street caught some interesting action. "

"When was this video taken?" he asked, seeing a suburban house on a dark street.

"Today at five o'clock in the morning. Watch."

A man came out of the house carrying two suitcases. He was also wearing a baseball cap, a jacket, and loose-fitting pants. He put them in the back of a car parked on the street, then went back into the house. A few minutes later, he brought out another suitcase and a large box, putting them in the trunk. Then he returned inside.

"He's in the house for eleven minutes," Savannah said as she fast-forwarded the video. "Then he comes back out with a shopping bag."

He frowned as the man put the bag next to his other belongings and then got into the vehicle. The camera never got a clear look at the man's face, but he appeared to be older, which made him wonder if it wasn't Alisa's missing father.

Savannah paused the video. "That was it. There's no evidence of anyone else entering the home. But at approximately ten a.m., smoke starts coming out of the house. A few minutes later, a woman walking her dog notices the smoke, runs up to the front door, and starts ringing the bell, but no one answers. She goes back to the sidewalk and gets on her phone." Savannah fast- forwarded the video. Then she said, "As you can see, the fire takes off very quickly. The 911 caller said she heard several pops and then the windows blew out and there were flames everywhere."

He watched the fire for several minutes. "So, the person who took things out of the house earlier in the day might have set some timed explosives to go off later in the day."

"But why wait?" Flynn asked. "Why not just set it when he left?"

"Maybe he wanted some time to get away before the fire started," Savannah suggested.

"Can you send me a copy of the video?" he asked. "I want to show it to Alisa Hunt. I think that man is her father, the one who's allegedly out of town. I don't know why he'd burn down his own house, unless it was to erase traces of the toxin that was slowly killing his wife. Although, I have to believe the poison in the house was something Mrs. Hunt ingested. If it was in the air, Dan Hunt would have had the same symptoms as his wife."

"That's true," Savannah said.

"I've been digging into Dan Hunt," Nick interjected. "His background prior to thirty years ago is fictitious."

His pulse jumped at that piece of information. "Seriously?"

"Yes," Nick said, meeting his gaze. "I found a photo of Mr. Hunt in his college yearbook and compared that to one taken for his teaching position last year." Nick tapped on the computer keys in front of him and put two photos on the monitor. "As you can see, the two men look similar: brown hair, brown eyes, similar build. But the young Mr. Hunt has a significant scar on his face and the older Mr. Hunt does not."

Nick was right. The scar that ran across the younger man's chin was definitely not visible in the second photo. The two men could pass for each other on an ID, but there were definite differences between their bone structure and features.

"I called an associate at the U.S. Marshals Service," Flynn interjected. "I thought Mr. Hunt might be in witness protection, but there's no record of him."

"When did he marry his wife?" he asked.

"Twenty-nine years ago," Nick answered. "Which leads to the question, does Pamela Hunt know who her husband really is? Or did he lie to her, too?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "She's difficult to read, and she has also been very ill, so I'm not sure how clear her head is. I'll talk to Alisa and her mother about all this."

"Anything else?" Flynn asked. "If not, it's been a long day. Let's regroup tomorrow and pick it all up again. Jason, why don't you hang back?"

He stood up as the others left the conference room. Flynn handed him keys and a piece of paper with an address on it. "You can take Miss Hunt here tonight. Do you want to stay with her? I'm short on other resources, but I can get someone else there tomorrow."

"I'll stay with her tonight. I need to find out more about her family, and she'll feel safer with someone she knows."

"Someone who saved her life twice," Flynn commented.

"Hopefully, there won't be a third opportunity to do that."

"What do you think about her? Is she innocent in all this? Is she holding anything back?"

"She has no idea what's going on," he replied. "She thinks her family is the most normal, most boring family on the planet."

"Sometimes, families that appear to be that normal are anything but."

"I agree. And knowing that Kashin poisoned her mother gives me no doubt that Alisa and her family are tied to Novikov. We need to find how they're connected."

Flynn nodded. "I agree. Be careful, Jason. Watch her back, but also watch your own. I don't want to lose the newest member of the team. You need to find Novikov before he finds you. I'm sure after what happened to your father, he knows who you are, and that might give him more motivation."

"I won't let him get away, not this time, not?—"

Flynn held up his hand. "Please don't finish that statement with the words if it's the last thing I do."