"Oh," Julia said in surprise, picking up the first one. "Now I feel terrible for saying that, because she did keep them." Her lips trembled as she stared at the childish drawing of a family at a park. "She was supposed to come to this birthday party, but she couldn't make it because she had to work, so my son drew a picture and put her in it." She struggled to compose herself. "She might never be at another party." She shook her head in terrified grief. "I can't do this. I can't be here right now. It feels like we're cleaning things up after she's gone, and I don't want her to be gone."

  "You can wait downstairs," she said. "We won't be long."

  "No. I'm just going to go to the hospital. I need to see her. I need to sit by her bed. I'll take a taxi."

  "Okay, but before you go, would you know any of her passwords? For her computer?"

  Julia gave her a blank look, then shook her head. "No. Sorry. I wish I could help, but I can't." With the drawing in her hand, she whirled around and headed out of the office.

  A moment later, Kara heard the front door close. Maybe that was just as well. She needed more time to go through Samantha's office.

  Tyler joined her about ten minutes later, a frustrated expression on his face. "I got nothing. And everything is so neat it's unsettling."

  "I agree. If anyone looked through my things, they'd find a lot more mess."

  "Nothing in here?"

  "Her laptop is password protected, so I can't get on it. I don't see anything in her files, which seem to be personal bills and such. But there is this one folder." She tapped the manila folder on the desk and then pushed it across the glass to Tyler. "It looks like an itinerary for a trip to Tajikistan. There's a note on the last page with the words danger and cost, with a question mark."

  Tyler opened the file and read through the few pages inside. "Dominic Ashford's company is going to break ground for a bridge and highway project through a treacherous mountain region in Tajikistan, connecting poorer parts of the country with the city center." He paused and looked up. "I'm not surprised someone wrote danger and cost, because this project will disrupt the smuggling routes in that area. That will make many people unhappy."

  "Maybe Samantha was concerned about Dominic's safety, and that's why she wanted to talk to Max Malone."

  "Malone would be knowledgeable about that part of the world."

  She nodded. Despite feeling like they'd found a clue, it really didn't bring them any closer to what had happened at the café. "This may not tie in at all to the bombing. Tajikistan is a long way from here."

  "You're right. Hard to see the link between what happened at the café and this folder."

  "Exactly. Let's go talk to Dominic Ashford and see if he can clear up a few of our questions."

  "I thought we were waiting for his assistant to get back to us on a time," Tyler said dryly.

  "Waiting time is over. If Dominic wants to find out what happened to Samantha, he'll talk to us."

  Chapter Four

  The global headquarters of Ashford Industries was located in a twenty-five-story high-rise in midtown that Dominic Ashford had built several years ago. While the top five floors of the building were reserved solely for Ashford Industries, the rest of the building was leased by other large and successful companies.

  After passing through security, Kara and Tyler were escorted upstairs by a suited man who had little to say except that he'd take them to see Mr. Ashford.

  When the elevator doors opened, they stepped into a luxe office suite, where their escort conversed with the receptionist before asking them to take a seat in the reception area. They didn't bother to sit down. She was determined to see Dominic as soon as possible and was prepared to use her badge to force her way into the office if she had to. Thankfully, the receptionist got up from her desk and took them through a pair of double doors and down a short hallway to Dominic's office.

  Dominic got up from behind a massive mahogany desk and came around to greet them. He was a very attractive man in his mid-thirties, impeccably dressed in a gray suit, his blond hair perfectly styled, his face clean-shaven. He had that executive glow that spoke of expensive skin products. After they'd introduced themselves, he waved them toward a corner where two black leather sofas surrounded a coffee table.

  "Please sit down," he said with a British accent.

  "First, we're very sorry about what happened to Samantha Barkley," she said as they sat down. "We understand the two of you are romantically involved."

  "Yes," he said shortly. "How can I help you?"

  "How long have you been seeing Ms. Barkley?" she asked.

  "About three months. We met at a charity fundraiser." He paused, his blue-eyed gaze reflective. "I have to admit I wasn't looking to date a lawyer. But Samantha was beautiful, smart, and passionate about her work. I couldn't resist. That said, I can't imagine the details of our relationship would be helpful to your investigation."

  "Samantha texted Max Malone, who I believe works for you," she continued. "He claims he didn't know what she wanted to speak to him about. Do you know?"

  "I don't. I was surprised she reached out to him directly. She must have had a question about something related to her caseload."

  "Do you think she felt threatened?" Tyler interjected. "She didn't mention anyone with whom she had a problem?"

  "No. Samantha is a strong woman with little patience for incompetence. I would venture to say she could have been easily annoyed by many people."

  She didn't find that difficult to believe, remembering the dirty look Samantha had thrown her when she'd moved into her personal space.

  "What about her current case?" Tyler continued. "Did she talk to you about it?"

  "She mentioned that members of a renowned accounting firm in the city were under indictment, and she was going to prosecute them for fraud. We didn't discuss the details. I know you're looking for a lead, but I don't have one. Maybe one of her coworkers or the DA would know more, especially if this attack was related to her work."

  His tone was smooth, his answers seemingly helpful, but he also wasn't telling them much. She needed to shake him up a little. "What if the attack was related to you? Do you have enemies who might see your girlfriend as a way to get to you?"

  He stiffened at her words, but he quickly composed himself. "I haven't received any threats in recent weeks. And I pray she didn't get hurt because of me. I don't think I could live with myself if that were the case."

  "We found a file in Samantha's apartment," she continued. "It appeared to be an itinerary for your upcoming trip to Tajikistan. There was handwriting on the last page; I don't know whether it belonged to Samantha or to someone else. But the note had two words: danger and cost, with a question mark."

  Dominic's lips tightened. "Samantha was concerned about an infrastructure project my company is breaking ground on next month. The region can be dangerous, but I have a security expert who will make sure our event is as safe as it can be."

  "And would that expert be Max Malone?" Tyler interjected.

  "Yes, it would," Dominic replied, not offering any further details.

  "The man Samantha wanted to talk to," Tyler continued.

  "Well, now that you mention the file, I'm thinking it's because she was worried about me, about the trip. There was an incident last year with my security in a different region of that country. We were ambushed, and two of my security guards were killed. That's why we moved the project to a different area."

  "But Tajikistan is not that big," Tyler said. "Do you really think the danger is gone?"

  "We will have more support this time."

  "And that will be expensive," she said.

  "It usually is," Dominic replied. "But this is an important project. It will change lives. It's an enormous investment for the company, but it will be worth it."

  He sounded passionate, sincere, or he might just be a great salesperson.

  "Do you have any leads at all into the bomber?" Dominic asked, changing the subject.

  "Not at this time," she answered.

  "That's disappointing. I've been racking my brain trying to think of who might have wanted to hurt Samantha. While we didn't talk that much about her current case, she mentioned that the accounting firm had clients tied to organized crime. One of those clients is Armen Petroysan, who owns a chain of automotive dealerships."

  She nodded. Armen Petroysan had been on both the NYPD and the FBI's radar for years, but there had never been enough evidence to bring him in on anything. "That's interesting. We're still trying to get the case files from the DA's office."

  "What's the problem? Do I need to make a call? I know the DA. I can put some pressure on him."

  "They're going to release the files; it's just a process," she said. "And to be quite frank, we don't know if Samantha was the target or just in the wrong place at the wrong time, so we have to look at everything. But we appreciate the tip, and we will look into that case."

  "Is that it?" Dominic asked as he rose, clearly ready to end the meeting.

  "One more thing," she said as she got to her feet. "How long have you known Max Malone?"

  "Max?" Dominic echoed, surprised by the question. "A long time. We went to boarding school together in the UK—Harrow. We were there for two years together."

  She hadn't been expecting that answer. "I didn't realize you were friends."

  "Well, we lost touch for a long time, but we've reconnected, and Max is very good at his job."

  "Because of his CIA background?" Tyler asked.

  Dominic's eyebrows rose slightly, as if he wasn't sure how to answer that question, but he said simply, "You'll have to talk to him about his background. Let me show you out."

  They were at the door when Tyler paused, "Mr. Ashford, can you account for your whereabouts Monday morning between seven and nine a.m.?"

  Dominic's expression turned stony. "You're asking me for an alibi for an explosion that almost killed a woman I care about?"

  "Standard procedure in an investigation like this," Tyler said calmly.

  "I was here." Dominic said tightly. "I had a conference call with investors in Dubai at eight a.m." The warmth drained from his demeanor. "My assistant and my security people can confirm that." He pointedly opened the door.

  "Thank you for your time," she said, noting how quickly the door closed behind them.

  When they got into the elevator, Tyler said, "What do you think?"

  "He answered our questions. His emotions seemed appropriate."

  "But?" Tyler asked.

  "I felt like there was something he wasn't saying."

  "I felt the same way. I wouldn't be surprised if this bomb had more to do with him and less to do with Samantha. Maybe someone wanted to send him a message. We need to find out what happened on his last trip to Tajikistan."

  "And maybe more about Armen Petroysan. I'd like to know how Samantha's case is going to affect him."

  "Well, we should get her case files soon. Let's go back to the office."

  The rest of Tuesday delivered little progress, Kara thought, as she stretched and rolled her neck around on her shoulders a little after five. The files from the DA's office would arrive in the morning, so she'd spent most of her time re-interviewing witnesses and using social media to find out more about Samantha Barkley and Dominic Ashford's relationship.

  They'd spent a lot of time at philanthropic events and political fundraisers, with a few dinners and birthday parties with local politicians and CEOs, all of whom appeared to be friends with Dominic. But she wasn't as interested in his friends as she was in his enemies. When she'd asked him if Samantha could have been targeted because of her relationship to him, it was clear that he couldn't rule out that possibility. But it was going to be difficult to find real information about Dominic on the Internet. Which meant she needed to talk to Max again. He hadn't returned any of her calls, but she had managed to get Wes to trace his phone to a Chinese restaurant on the edge of Chinatown.

  Maybe it was time to check that out. She put on her coat, grabbed her bag, and headed down to the garage. Twenty minutes later, she arrived at the Golden Dragon restaurant. There appeared to be a door next to the restaurant that led to an upstairs apartment. She wondered if Max might live there, although it didn't seem like the kind of a place a guy who owned his own security company and had a billionaire for a client would live. Although it did seem like the kind of place that a CIA agent might use as a cover.

  She pushed the doorbell for the apartment. If she was wrong, at least she'd know. There was no answer. Pulling out her phone, she called him again. She was ready to leave a more urgent message when his deep voice came across the line.

  "Max Malone?"

  "Who's asking?"

  "Agent Kara Reid. I've called you several times today. I need to speak to you."

  "About?"

  "Dominic Ashford and Samantha Barkley. I have questions."

  "Dominic told me he already spoke to you. I doubt I can provide any new information."

  "Oh, I think you can. Where are you? Can we meet?"

  "I guess I could meet with you. On one condition. You pay for dinner."

  "I'm not having dinner with you," she protested.

  "Too bad. Because I'm hungry and I like to talk over a meal."

  She drew an irritated breath. "Fine, I'll buy you dinner. Where?"

  "How about here?"

  His voice was no longer on the line; it was coming from behind her. She whirled around in surprise, her heart beating a little too fast when she saw him standing on the sidewalk with a smirk on his too-handsome face.

  She put her phone into the pocket of her jacket. "Funny," she said.

  His grin broadened. "I hope you like Chinese food."

  "I do. And I will buy you dinner, but you have to promise to actually speak."

  "No promises. We'll see how things go."

  She didn't like his response, but at the moment, he had the upper hand. She had no grounds to bring him in for an official interview yet, so she had to take what she could get. Waving her hand toward the restaurant, she said, "After you."

  He led the way into the Golden Dragon, opening the door for her and motioning her inside. The space was small and unpretentious, with a dozen tables covered with bright red tablecloths. Paper lanterns hung from the ceiling, and the air was thick with the smell of garlic, ginger, and other spices.

  A woman who had to be in her sixties came out of the kitchen, her face breaking into a wide smile when she saw Max.

  "Max! Finally, you come to eat!" She came around the counter, already talking rapidly in a mix of English and, what Kara assumed, was Cantonese. "And you bring someone!" Her sharp eyes turned to Kara, assessing her with the kind of directness that would have been rude anywhere but in a Chinese family restaurant. "Girlfriend?"

  "No, Mrs. Kim, this is⁠—"

  "A colleague," Kara said quickly.

  Mrs. Kim waved her hand dismissively. "Colleague, girlfriend, it doesn't matter. You both need to eat. Sit, sit." She gestured emphatically toward a table in the corner. "I make you something good. Best dumplings in New York."

  "Mrs. Kim, we can order—" Max said, once more interrupted.

  "No, no. You sit. I cook." She was already heading toward the kitchen, calling out something in Cantonese that made an older man appear in the kitchen doorway. He looked at Max, then at Kara, and said something that made Mrs. Kim laugh and swat at him with a dish towel.

  Kara raised an eyebrow at Max as they headed to the corner table. "Sounds like you're well-known around here."

  "I live upstairs. But you knew that, right?"

  "I knew your phone had been in this location quite a bit."

  He smiled and tipped his head. "Very good. But I wasn't trying to hide."

  "Could have fooled me. You have no business address outside of a post-office box, no website, no client testimonials anywhere. How do you sell your services?"

  "Personal referrals. You're going to love the food here; it's great. I have to warn you, though, Mrs. Kim will bring enough food for four people."

  As she sat down, she took in the restaurant from a new vantage point. It felt warm and comfortable, not trendy, not trying to be anything other than what it was, and she felt instantly at home. She was, however, a little surprised by how much the family seemed to like Max. The more she learned about him, the more intrigued she became.

  "So," she began. "Dominic Ashford mentioned you went to Harrow together. I didn't take you for a UK boarding school kid."

  A flicker of surprise ran through his eyes. "I'm surprised he shared that with you."

  "Is it a secret?"

  "No. But I don't understand why you'd be talking about that."

  "He said he'd known you a long time."

  "Well, we certainly met a long time ago."

  She wondered about the distinction he seemed to be making. "Does that mean you don't know each other well?"

  Ignoring her question, he said, "What else did Dominic tell you?"

  "That you used to work for the CIA."

  He sat back in his chair, giving her a speculative look. "I don't think Dominic told you that; I think Special Agent Brennan did."

  "Tyler mentioned he remembered meeting you somewhere overseas when he was in Delta Force," she admitted. "Why did you leave the CIA?"

  He shrugged. "Why does anyone leave a job? I felt like making a change."

  "And now you run security for Dominic Ashford?"

  "I'm handling international security for him. He already has a team in the US."

  Mrs. Kim appeared with a pot of tea and two cups, setting them down with a flourish. "Green tea. Very good for you. Make you strong, healthy." She poured for both of them, then disappeared again.

  Kara wrapped her hands around the cup, grateful for the warmth. "How did you end up living in this neighborhood?"

  "Does it matter?"

  "Just curious. It would be an excellent cover for a CIA agent masquerading as a private security consultant."