Covered in Darkness Page 7

  “Did you sleep enough?” Declan ran his hand along my leg.

  “Enough.”

  Declan angled his head, unconvinced.

  “What about you?” I asked. “I’m sorry I woke you so early.”

  “I can work on much less sleep than you.”

  “That doesn’t mean you should.”

  Declan’s hand roamed higher up my leg, sliding along my thigh and beneath the hem of my silk shorts.

  “What are you doing, Mr. O’Roark?” I smiled.

  He lifted my blanket and leaned toward me until I was forced to slide down on the leather sofa. He covered my body with his and somehow maneuvered the blanket to drape over his back, covering us both. He stared down into my face with a mischievous grin. “I thought since we’re awake, and the phones are still silent, we might start this day right.”

  I laughed while he pushed hair off my face. “And by right… what exactly did you have in mind?”

  He leaned in and touched his lips to mine. “How about I show you?” His breath was warm against my face.

  I ran my hands along his bare back. When we kissed this time, I forgot what interoperability even meant. I let Declan O’Roark take me away from the crisis Kentucky was suffering through, even if only temporarily.

  I woke to the sound of my phone buzzing beneath my hip. Declan’s arms and a leg were wrapped around me on the couch. I tried to wiggle free, and managed to move enough to reach my phone.

  “Hello,” I said, barely above a whisper.

  “Brooke?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s Aidan. Where’s Declan?”

  “He’s right here. What’s wrong?” My heart sped up. Had something bad happened to the horses?

  “Nothing, as long as you’re both on your way to Julep Hill Café.”

  It was Saturday. “Crap. What time is it?” I tapped Declan on the shoulder. He stirred slowly. It was so unlike him to sleep longer than me.

  “Seven.”

  “We’ll be there as quickly as humanly possible.”

  “Better make it quicker than that.”

  I hung up. “We overslept. We promised Carrie Anne we’d be at the grand reopening of the café.”

  Declan kissed me quickly on the lips. “And we will be. We’ll save time by showering together.” He stood and pulled me to my feet.

  I wrapped the blanket around my naked body. “I don’t see how that will save time at all.”

  Declan smiled. “Are you saying you have no self-restraint, Miss Fairfax?” He grabbed the remote from the coffee table and started to shut off the televisions, but when I noticed Blake Saltzman on the screen, I grabbed his hand. Her dark, reddish-brown hair snaked around into curls on one side of her neck. She’d obviously found a way to use a hair dryer and curling iron.

  “Wait. Don’t turn it off. Turn MSNBC up.”

  “Who is that?”

  “Blake Saltzman. Ryan Saltzman’s daughter. She’s the media relations person I was telling you about.”

  We listened to Blake talk about how the storm had taken down multiple compressor stations and knocked down power lines, resulting in widespread power outages. “But the damage has been fixed,” she said cheerily, “and the grid has undergone a hard reboot.”

  “That’s not much of an improvement over what she told me yesterday,” I said.

  “Ms. Saltzman, can you give our viewers an idea of how long before the power will be one hundred percent restored?” the reporter asked.

  “Power should be restored across Kentucky in the next twelve to twenty-four hours.”

  I looked at Declan. “I’m not sure the people of Louisville—the hospitals, mostly—can withstand another twenty-four hours.”

  “Isn’t that longer than you had initially expected?” the reporter asked.

  “We’re working around the clock to repair Mother Nature’s damage as quickly as possible.” Blake went on to explain the complexity of the grid, though her explanation contradicted everything I thought I knew about the electric grid in the United States.

  “You can turn it off.”

  We both raced through a shower and got dressed quickly—Declan in a pair of khakis and a fitted polo, me in a casual skirt, a T-shirt, and some flip-flops. I grabbed a cropped blazer and a dressier pair of shoes in case I got called into the fusion center in an official capacity. Out of habit, I reached for my sidearm, but thought better of wearing it to the grand reopening. Instead, I concealed my backup weapon in my purse, in its holster. I’d strap it on under my blazer after breakfast.

  As Declan drove us toward Midland, I thought about what Blake had said to the news reporter. “Why would the power companies lie about what took down the grid? I mean, I know what Senator Reiner said, but what if something else caused the power outage—something sinister?”

  “Are you sure she’s lying?”

  “No, I’m not sure. But Senator Reiner painted a very compelling picture of how the grid operated, and how it didn’t. He said it was nearly impossible for the grid to have gone down the way LP is claiming. And Carson, my critical infrastructure analyst, agreed. They both claimed that the storm could have damaged compressor stations, and of course power lines could have been damaged—but if that were the case, it would take much longer—days, at least—to repair. It couldn’t be cured by a “hard reboot” the way Blake Saltzman described.”

  “Maybe she’s just dumbing down the explanation.”

  “Maybe.” I turned to look out the window. A couple of silent beats passed. “But what if the senator is right? What if the people of LP caused this power outage? Or didn’t report the full extent of the problem?”

  “What kind of problem are we talking about?”

  I looked up at the power lines. “Senator Reiner suggested a cyber attack.” I turned my dark expression toward Declan. “He also mentioned terrorists.”

  Declan parked on the curb across from Julep Hill Inn and Café. He cut off the engine and faced me. “Do you honestly believe this could have been the result of terrorists? That wasn’t just a little pop-up thunderstorm the other night. Couldn’t those lines of thunderstorms and tornadoes have taken out the Louisville power grid?”

  “I never said I was sure. I just said something doesn’t feel right. And what Senator Reiner said made a lot of sense.” I gave my head a little shake. “But you’re probably right. I’m letting my imagination run wild.”

  “I think maybe you’re missing the excitement of an investigation.” Declan’s eyes darkened—it was a look he’d given me often since I left the FBI. He’d even accused me a month ago of being an adrenaline junkie—claimed that I needed a murder to investigate. He said he was worried I was bored with my new position as director of the Kentucky Office of Homeland Security because it didn’t provide me with enough danger. I, of course, told him he was crazy and gave him the silent treatment for nearly a day. It was childish, but…

  “I am not missing the excitement of an investigation.”

  He angled his head further.

  I sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. “Fine. Maybe I am, but that doesn’t mean I’m imagining the need for one. I’ve investigated enough people to know when something doesn’t seem right. And the Saltzmans? Something doesn’t seem right with either of them.”

  Declan got out of the car and circled around to my door.

  I typed a quick text to Jude: Find out what other power companies are saying about this power outage and let me know.

  If electricity truly operated in such a way that the other companies were vulnerable to a loss of power as well, wouldn’t they be rushing to offer their resources?

  He texted back immediately: They’re blaming the storms. Say they caused a power surge in multiple parts of the grid. Lies of collusion?

  I looked up to see Declan standing by my open door, offering me a hand. I took it and stood.

  He didn’t back up. “Your instincts have been nearly spot-on since I met you, Brooke. Maybe that’s what
worries me most about this situation.” He slipped a finger under my chin, keeping his eyes on mine. “Be careful poking around in the cyber world. Sometimes it seems like you’re hiding safely behind a computer, but good computer hackers have a way of knowing exactly who you are.”

  “I know,” I reassured him. “And terrorists are terrorists. Just because they might be behind a computer, in another country even, doesn’t make them any less dangerous.”

  He leaned down and gave me a quick kiss.

  “About time you two arrived.”

  We turned to find Aidan bounding down the Julep Hill porch steps.

  “Marti has been asking for you,” he said to me in his thick Irish accent.

  I sighed. “Then I’d better get inside.”

  “Declan, you have a second before you go in?” Aidan said. “We need to discuss tonight’s auction prospects.”

  “That’s right. The Kensington yearling sales.” I had forgotten that the biggest night of the weeklong auction was tonight. Declan was looking to purchase several new yearlings to add to his stable of racehorses.

  Declan raised an eyebrow at me. “You didn’t forget that you agreed to attend, did you?”

  “No. I’m sure it’s on my calendar.” The calendar I hadn’t looked at since Thursday. I remembered now that I was supposed to attend not only the auction but a cocktail party afterwards.

  While looking at Declan, Aidan cocked his head at me with a meaning I didn’t understand. It was hardly subtle, but I had enough on my mind that I didn’t care about whatever secret Aidan was attempting to keep from me.

  I leaned in and gave Declan a quick kiss. “See you inside.” I left the two men behind and climbed the steps to the Inn.

  Would I ever get used to living with a man who lived the lifestyle of the wealthy inside the thoroughbred industry? It was an industry I knew well from growing up with a grandfather who also knew thoroughbreds, but I thought I had left it all behind when I joined the FBI. And although attending the yearling sales would be fun, it felt inappropriate to be out at a ritzy event when much of Kentucky was still suffering without electricity.

  “Hey, Brooke,” Marti called when I entered the dining room. She was wearing a fun summer dress and had her blond hair tied into a knot on the right side of her head. When she came to work for Homeland Security, she promised her mom she would still work shifts at the café on weekends for as long as she was needed. “Can I get you one of our new lattes? We’ve got pumpkin spice.”

  I scrunched up my nose. “No, I’ll stick with my normal caramel macchiato.”

  “Coming right up.”

  I spotted Ty seated at a table across the dining room with a familiar face: Mr. Tate, a widower who came to Julep Hill Inn every day for his morning coffee. Carrie Anne said he even stopped by while they were in the middle of renovations, so she made sure she had coffee ready every morning even though they weren’t open for business. Mr. Tate would sip his coffee while walking around looking at the progress of the contractors.

  “Good morning, Mr. Tate,” I said as I approached. “Is Ty bothering you this morning? If he is, I’ll be happy to throw him out.”

  Mr. Tate smiled up at me. “Oh, Agent Fairfax. You’re such a kidder. You know I love talking to my favorite secret agents.”

  Mr. Tate refused to accept that Ty and I were no longer working with the FBI, and he loved referring to us as “secret agents,” though we had never kept our identities a secret.

  Ty grabbed a chair from another table and pulled it over. “Mr. Tate was just telling me that his daughter lives in Louisville.”

  “Oh yeah?” I said cautiously; Ty was giving off a strange vibe. “Is she doing okay? Have you spoken with her?”

  “Yes. She’s fine. She managed to get out of the city and is staying with me until the electric is back up. She’s quite the conspiracy theorist, though.”

  I lifted a brow at Ty, then asked Mr. Tate. “What do you mean?”

  “She thinks the government turned off her electricity.”

  “And why does she think that?”

  “Because the power went out where she lives before the storms even hit Louisville.”

  “Before? Did she say how long before?”

  “Oh, just a few minutes. She said she could already hear the thunder in the distance and see the lightning, but she was chatting with her best friend on… what’s that thing called? The Facebook? Yeah. They’d been chatting on the Facebook when the storm hit. And my Jenna said her power went out the same time her best friend’s power went out. She said her phone worked for a while after the initial storms hit, but eventually she lost touch with her friend.”

  “Her best friend lives in the next county over, twenty miles east,” Ty clarified. “The storms were nowhere near the friend when she lost power.”

  “Are you sure?” I said. “That your daughter—Jenna—and her friend lost power at the same time.”

  “As sure as Carrie Anne’s coffee is the best coffee in Kentucky.” He smiled. “Jenna drove over to her friend’s house yesterday to check on her. Got a clock in the kitchen that showed the exact time the power went out.”

  I looked at Ty.

  “Carrie Anne’s coffee is good,” Ty said.

  I didn’t like to think about the implications of this new information. If this was true, it wasn’t possible that the grid got overloaded. Even if a major substation was damaged in the storm, and even if the grid worked like LP’s executives explained, it was highly unlikely for people that far apart to lose power at exactly the same time.

  “What have I missed?” Declan asked behind me. He placed his hands on my shoulders, but then stretched one toward Mr. Tate. “Good morning, Mr. Tate. You flirting with my girl?”

  Mr. Tate shook Declan’s hand. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Everyone knows this secret agent only has eyes for you.” Mr. Tate laughed. “Not that I wouldn’t try if you weren’t in the picture.”

  I tilted my head back and smiled up at Declan. “I didn’t get you coffee yet. Didn’t want it to get cold.”

  As if on cue, Marti exited the kitchen with a large mug brimming with whipped cream, a second empty mug, and a coffee pot, all on a tray. “Declan, you want coffee?” She set the mug topped with whipped cream in front of me.

  “Yeah. Thanks, Marti.”

  She set the other mug on the table and poured coffee. “You two going to order anything to eat?”

  Declan looked at me. I nodded. It was probably a good idea to eat something before the day got away from me.

  “I’ll have whatever scone you have today,” I said.

  “You have quiche?” Declan asked.

  “Country ham and chives.”

  “I’ll have that and a fruit bowl.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I’ll have fruit as well.”

  “Coming right up,” Marti said. She returned to the kitchen.

  “I see someone’s being a good influence,” Ty said, nodding toward me. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you willingly eat fruit for breakfast.”

  “Hey, if someone cuts it up for me.” I shrugged.

  Declan turned to grab a chair, but Mr. Tate stood. “Declan, you can have my seat. I need to get along. The day, she’s a-wastin’. But it was sure nice to talk to all of you today.”

  “You, too, Mr. Tate,” I said.

  Ty and Declan shook Mr. Tate’s hand, and Declan sat in the chair Mr. Tate had vacated.

  When Mr. Tate was gone, Ty looked at me. “What do you make of what he said about his daughter?”

  “The same thing I’ve been thinking since Jude’s conversation with Sam and our conversation with Senator Reiner: Something smells fishy about this power outage.”

  Ty and I filled Declan in on what he had missed. Just as we were finishing up, my phone rang.

  “Hey, Jude. What’s going on?”

  “I just got a phone call from Sam.”

  “How did she manage to make a phone call?” I asked, surprised. “Her cell is s
till working?”

  “No, it quit working yesterday, but Sam’s father is a prepper. You know… a doomsday prepper?”

  “I understand what a prepper is. How did she call you?”

  “Her father gave her a satellite phone for Christmas last year. Thought since she made a living as a cyber analyst, she should know more than anyone what could happen. He wanted her to be prepared.”

  “Convenient,” I said. “What did Sam have to say?”

  “She asked some questions around the office yesterday, and she’s starting to think there’s more to this power outage than what’s being shared with the public.”

  “Did you tell her we were already wondering the same thing?”

  “No. I could tell by her voice that she was nervous, so I just let her talk.”

  “Where is she now? Is she downtown?”

  Ty and Declan were both staring at me, listening to the one-sided conversation.

  “They sent her home last night and told her not to even bother coming in until the power was back up and she heard from them.”

  “How were they planning to communicate with her?”

  “That’s what confused her the most. They didn’t say. They just told her to go home. She said they were very abrasive. She didn’t even get a chance to tell them she had a satellite phone.”

  I had a bad feeling I might be the reason she was sent home. My question about why she was called in early yesterday morning had clearly not been well received. “Send me her phone number. You have her home address? I’d like to talk to her.”

  “I’ll text both to you.”

  I hung up and looked at Ty. “You up for a little trip to Louisville?”

  “Of course.” He stood just as Marti set plates of food in front of us. “You two finish breakfast. I’m going to run home and change. I’ll meet you back here?”

  “Sounds good.”

  When Ty was gone, Declan asked, “What do you hope to learn from this Sam person?” He’d obviously followed my conversation closely enough.