“Mooooomma—”
“You can tell me everything in a minute, Benji. But first, I have a present for you.” She picked up one of the plastic bags, peered inside, and handed it to her eager son. “There’s a complete change of clothing in the bag—everything from shirt to shoes. Take off everything you’re wearing—that includes your underwear—and put the new clothes on.” She handed the second bag to the older boy and glanced toward the SUV. “You can change in Clay’s car.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Clay’s voice was loud enough for Mac to hear it even though he stood a good ten feet from Amy and her mic. “You think someone bugged them? Who would have gotten close enough to do that? Me? Dad? Your mom?”
Amy’s hand latched on to her youngest son’s shoulder, who was standing with his head bent as he peered into the plastic bag. She steered him toward the SUV. The older child headed over under his own steam.
“I’m not taking chances,” she said without looking back. “I was there, at the lab. I know what happened. The identification of the men who attacked us as unarmed security guards is a complete and utter fabrication. The men in question were well-trained mercenaries armed with AK-47s. They fired on us first. Which means that the entire investigation into the incident is corrupt.”
Dead silence followed that announcement. Mac studied the fed’s face through the scope and frowned. Her brother didn’t look surprised.
“You were there?” Clay repeated, staring at his sister’s back. “You weren’t on the tape.”
Something about the bastard’s expression sent a chill down Mac’s spine—there was a predatory cast to his brow and chin. Plus, he was lying. Mac was certain of it. He knew Amy had been there, so why the fuck was he playing dumb?
“No, I wasn’t on the tape. And Mackenzie and his team did not fire first or on unarmed civilians. Which means the footage was doctored and the SEALs are being set up.” Amy opened the back door to the Expedition and lifted her son inside. “There’s something screwy going on.” She stopped talking for a moment, and her shoulders rounded. She stared into the SUV. “John”—her voice stumbled over her murdered husband’s name—“told Mackenzie that the men who kidnapped me and the boys had demanded seven of the first-class passengers in trade if John wanted to see us alive again.”
“I’m . . . Mackenzie’s . . . no evidence . . . support . . .” Clay’s reply was indistinct.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Amy turned to stare at her brother, which gave Mac a perfect view of her determined face. “Seven of the scientists from the company whose lab exploded were booked into first class on that very flight. And just a few months after the aborted hijacking, their lab is incinerated and armed mercenaries show up on their doorstep? There’s your evidence.”
Clay followed her to the SUV, well within mic range again. “A coincidence, admittedly, but there’s no proof indicating the film footage was doctored or that the men killed were more than security guards.”
“I was there,” Amy reminded him very quietly. “I know exactly what happened.”
“Forgive me, Ames. But you’re not exactly a credible witness these days. The men you’re defending rescued you from hell. This paranoia you’re exhibiting? It’s a classic sign of PTSD brought on by your kidnapping and rape.”
A haunted expression touched Amy’s shadowed face.
Motherfucker.
Mac rubbed his chest, trying to ease the sudden, vicious ache digging into his heart. The ache burned as anger stirred. The bastard. There had been no reason besides spite to remind her of what she’d endured during her captivity. He resumed his grip on the rifle and focused on Amy, fighting the urge to swing the rifle in the fed’s direction and let his finger tighten around the trigger. Not that he wanted to kill the bastard, maybe just hurt him a little . . .
Suddenly the shadow vanished from her face and her chin took on that familiar stubborn tilt. “And this attitude of yours is exactly why Mackenzie and his team are better off pursuing this case on their own. It’s clear you have a traitor in your office, yet you’re too shortsighted and tied to bureaucracy to admit it.”
An explosion of rage touched her stepbrother’s face, but it vanished almost immediately.
“Oh cool. So cool!” A childish voice broke the sudden tense silence. “These are the flashy shoes. The ones I wanted for my birthday, but you said they were too expensive.” The youngster flew out of the backseat of the SUV wearing nothing but his underwear and his new tennis shoes. And sure enough, his shoes were flashing the entire color palette of the rainbow one hue at a time.
Christ. Why the hell would Amy buy something that lit up the entire countryside and gave their pursuers a glowing beacon to follow if they had to make a run for it?