Rarities Unlimited 04 - The Color of Death

stingy Congress and a penny-pinching—”
    Sam was already out the door, running for his car and the woman who had trusted him with her life.
    “I want your report in two hours,” Kennedy yelled after him.
    Sam’s only answer was the kind of hand signal that would have gotten him fired if Kennedy hadn’t already figured out a better way to get even.
    Doug turned to Kennedy and said, “At least put in for witness protection for the CI.”
    “She’s a snitch, not a witness,” Kennedy said.
    Sizemore shrugged. “Hey, Doug. Save the taxpayers a dime and stop worrying. She’s living in a fortress.”
    “What do you mean?” Doug asked. “And how do you know?”
    “I went there. She’s wired to a local alarm company. She’ll be fine.”
    “Against a murderer who works for the Bureau?” Doug retorted.
    “We don’t know that,” Kennedy shot back. “Right now, it’s a possibility, that’s all. Just a lousy possibility.”
    “Christ, man, we’re talking about a woman’s life,” Doug said.
    “Maybe. And maybe Sam Groves is leaking info through his CI to make us look bad,” Sizemore said.
    “Do you really believe that?” Doug asked, astonished.
    Sizemore shrugged. “Like your boss said, lots of possibilities, and right now that one is as good as any other. Groves isn’t a team player. He’s got an ax to grind with the Bureau.”
    Kennedy laughed shortly. “This time the son of a bitch can grind it on his own thick skull.”
    “What if Sam is right?” Doug said.
    “Then we’ll nab the perp,” Kennedy said. “If Groves isn’t right, his ass is fired and he gets the blame for every foul-up so far. Either way, it’s win-win for me.”
    “SOP,” Doug said through his teeth.
    “You have a problem with that?” Kennedy asked.
    “Would it make any difference?”
    “To me, no. To you?” Kennedy shrugged. “You want to get fired along with him, be my guest.”
    “You’re not the only one with friends in high places,” Doug said. “Don’t threaten me.”
    “You want a pissing contest?”
    “I don’t want a dead CI on my conscience.”
    Kennedy smiled coldly. “Then you better pray your pet agent is as good as he thinks he is.”

Chapter 52
    Glendale
    Saturday
    1:15 P.M .
    Under cover of her eyelashes, Kate looked up from her polishing wheel and glanced toward Sam, who was sitting at a table along the wall, working at her computer. He’d started to work right after he showed up on her doorstep hours ago with a bunch of files and a grim look around his eyes. He hadn’t said much in the way of hello then.
    He hadn’t said anything since.
    Whatever he was working on had turned him into a man who radiated the kind of barely leashed fury that made people wary on a primal level.
    Without warning he hit the send key, shoved back from the computer, and glared at the screen like he was thinking of putting his fist through it.
    “Finished?” she asked.
    He grunted.
    “Mind if I check my e-mail?” she asked. It’s my computer you’re using, after all.
    “Oh, yeah, I’m finished,” Sam said. Now I can go from bad to worse . Jesus, I really don’t want to be the one to tell her about Lee. “My SSA can print out as many damn copies of my report as he wants. All he has to do is remember to open his e-mail.”
    “You muttered something about a fax when you first got here,” she said.
    “Fuck the fax. It’s time the Bureau entered the twenty-first century.”
    Kate let out a breath. “You ready to tell me what happened?”
    “I thought you wanted to check your e-mail.”
    “It will keep.”
    Abruptly, Sam stood up. “I work for a prick.”
    “Um, okay. That makes some days worse than others. Anything else I should know?”
    Sam didn’t want to tell her what had happened in Kennedy’s office any more than he wanted to tell her about her half brother. But there wasn’t any choice. It was her life.
    And he was about to punch a big hole in it.
    “I just updated your half brother’s file,” Sam said levelly.
    Kate braced herself against the worktable and waited.
    “The DNA match was right on,” Sam said. “It was Lee’s blood in the trunk of his rental car.”
    She closed her eyes and said, “No mistake?” Then she looked at Sam. “None?”
    He touched her hair, then let his hand drop, not trusting himself. He wanted her so bad he was having trouble standing up straight. That wasn’t what she needed now. She needed a cop, not a lover with a woody.
    “I’m