Beth Cornelison – Colton 911: Deadly Texas Reunion (страница 2)
Chicago FBI field office
FBI Special Agent Nolan Colton hated suits almost as much as he hated today’s unexpected summons to his boss’s office. As he waited to be called back, he tugged at the collar of his dress shirt and readjusted the tie that threatened to strangle him. His knee bounced while he waited. Patience had never been his forte. What the hell could have happened to warrant this urgent confab with the special agent in charge? Nothing good.
Nolan reached in his coat pocket for an antacid and chewed it. His gut had been torn up with dread all night. His boss’s tone of voice when he’d called last night instructing Nolan to report to this meeting had been grave and terse.
When the SAC’s administrative assistant finally called him to the inner office, he took a deep breath, tugged his shirtsleeves to straighten them and strode into his boss’s domain with his head high and his back ramrod straight.
The first thing Nolan noticed when he entered Special Agent in Charge Dean Humboldt’s office was that they weren’t alone. Deputy Assistant Director Jim Greenley sat in one of the chairs opposite Humboldt, and a man Nolan didn’t know but who seemed vaguely familiar occupied the seat to the left of Humboldt’s desk. The second thing Nolan noticed was he wasn’t invited to take a seat.
He assumed a rigid stance, feet slightly apart, shoulders back, hands clasped behind him. “Good morning, sirs.”
“Special Agent Colton,” the deputy assistant director said by way of greeting, adding a quick dip of his chin.
The SAC’s administrative assistant left, closing the door behind her, and Nolan experienced a brief moment of claustrophobia. His tie seemed to tighten like a noose.
“Thank you for coming this morning, Special Agent Colton,” Humboldt said.
“I didn’t get the impression when you called me last night that I had a choice.”
Humboldt cleared his throat. “No. A rather serious matter has been brought to my attention, and we need to address it.”
“I’ve never known the Bureau to handle anything that wasn’t serious.” He twitched a grin, but his attempt at humor fell flat. Humboldt scowled, and Greenley exchanged a look with the third man, who had yet to be introduced. “Sorry. What matter is that, sir?”
Humboldt opened a manila file folder and slid a large black-and-white photograph across the desk. “This.”
Nolan stepped forward to look at the picture, and what he saw there shot adrenaline to his marrow. A shot of himself. In an erotic and compromising position with a fellow special agent.
Well, hell. He’d thought the ill-advised, one-time tryst with his partner had been discreet, something he could bury. They’d been alone in her hotel room. So where had the picture come from? The obvious answer rattled him. Angered him.
“Um.” Nolan blinked. “Where did you get this?”
“We’re asking the questions today, Special Agent Colton,” DAD Greenley said.
“You recognize the woman in the photo, Special Agent?”
He jerked a nod. “Special Agent Charlotte O’Toole. We worked a case together last year in Portland.” He drew a slow breath, deciding honesty was his best policy. “Obviously, things got out of control one night. It was a mistake, but it was just a one-time thing.”
Humboldt divided a glance between the other two men. Greenley arched one graying eyebrow.
When Humboldt slid another picture toward him with much the same content, Nolan gritted his back teeth.
“What is it you say happened that night, Special Agent Colton?” Humboldt asked. His boss’s continued formal use of Nolan’s official title rather than his first name unsettled Nolan.
He frowned and tilted his head in confusion. “I’d think that was pretty clear. Are you asking for scurrilous details? Because, I have to say, sir, I find it crass of a man to kiss and tell.”
Humboldt folded his hands on his desk. “Generally, I do, too. But considering the allegations Special Agent O’Toole has made against you, I think you’d be wise to share your side of the events of that night.”
A chill raced down Nolan’s spine. “Allegations?” He could barely choke the word out. His pulse thundered in his ears as he looked from one grim face to another. “Wh-what is she alleging?”
“She claims you assaulted her.”
Nolan’s blood froze, and he had the very real, very scary sense of his career, his reputation, slipping away like a wild mustang jerking the reins from his hands. He struggled for a breath. “What?”
“Special Agent O’Toole came forward last week with claims that you made advances toward her over a period of several days while you two were on assignment. She claims she consistently rebuffed your advances and reminded you such behavior was both unprofessional and unwelcome by her.”
Disbelief clogged Nolan’s throat. He made sputtering noises, but shock rendered him mute.
“Believing she would need evidence of your behavior to substantiate her claim, she hid a camera to capture further incidents as proof.”
Humboldt tapped the file folder. “There are more if you’d like to see them, but they are much alike and tell the same story.”
Nolan glanced at the incriminating picture again, noting this time that the shot showed him bowing Charlotte back, as if the aggressor, while her hands were against his chest as if pushing him away. Her head was turned as if avoiding his kiss instead of providing access to her slim neck and bared shoulder.
Fighting for composure, Nolan said gruffly, “I’d like to see the other pictures, just the same.”
His boss handed him the file.
Beside Humboldt’s desk, the third man huffed irritably, but Nolan ignored him as he thumbed through the rest of the snapshots. Every one of the images gave the impression that Nolan had been an assailant and Charlotte his unwilling victim. Which was far from the truth. Missing from the file were dozens of other moments in which Charlotte had seduced him, pressured him, ravaged him. He saw now that she’d made a point of staging plenty of poses providing evidence to the contrary. But still he wondered,
He and Charlotte had worked well together. He’d liked her—obviously—and thought they had a good professional and personal relationship. So what had made her turn on him? No. Not turn on him. That indicated a change of heart. For her to plant the camera, pose the pictures and pursue him with the fervor that she had—because she had, in fact, been the instigator, pushing him to violate his professional ethics for the one-night stand—this whole situation had to have been premeditated. Charlotte had used him. Betrayed him.
“That bitch,” Nolan muttered under his breath.
The third man puffed up and growled, “I’ll thank you not to speak that way about
Freshly stunned, Nolan jerked his gaze to the older man. “Your wife?”
“You didn’t know?” Greenley asked.
Nolan snorted, no longer caring about comportment or respect for his superiors. “Obviously not.”
He was being railroaded with false charges, and he’d defend himself with everything he had.
Greenley turned up a palm. “Special Agent O’Toole married the senator five years ago.”
“Six years ago,” the third man corrected.
Nolan gave his head a small shake as if he’d heard wrong. “I’m sorry…the
Humboldt nodded toward the man in question. “Yes. US Senator George Dell of Nebraska.”
The bad vibe he’d had even before entering Humboldt’s office had cranked up by a factor of ten. A hundred.
Nolan’s entire body tensed. Fire flashed through his veins. He thought his heart might pound right through his chest. A kaleidoscope of emotions battled for dominance as his brain numbly processed the accusation and ramifications. He had to lock his knees to keep his shaking legs under him. “Th-this is all, uh…a big misunderstanding.”
“You’re denying her claims?” Humboldt asked.
He jerked a stunned gaze to his boss. Humboldt had worked with him long enough to know Nolan’s character better than that. How could his boss even
He threw the folder of photos back on Humboldt’s desk. “Hell yes, I deny it! I’m not a sexual assailant!”
The senator shoved to his feet, his hands balled. “So you’re calling my wife a liar?”
Nolan reeled in the curt reply on his tongue at the last possible moment. He needed to be careful what he said, how he said it. He didn’t want his accusers to have any more rope to hang him with. As it was, defending himself from charges of sexual assault would be tricky at best.
He struggled for a calm tone as he faced the senator, but a throbbing pulse pounded at his temples. “All I can tell you is that I didn’t know Charlotte was married, and what happened between us was