The Intelligence Unit Series

Addison looked at Maxwell, brows arched and ready for battle. "Okay. For the boss over the co-workers. You ready?"

"Always," came the reply. Extending one hand palm-up, Maxwell placed his opposite fist on top, waiting for her to do the same before he said, "Rock, paper, scissors, shoot." She didn't even have to look to know she'd beat him. "I get the boss," she said, not even bothering to keep the grin from her face.

"Damn it," Maxwell muttered, looking at her hand to see the sign for paper that covered his rock.

"Pro tip. You might want to rethink your strategy." Addison pulled up the list of contacts Capelli had uploaded to the case file. "You always come out of the gate with rock." "I do not," Maxwell said, amending with, "not always."

"Mmkay, big guy. Whatever you say."

Addison knew that to anyone else, it looked like they weren't taking the task in front of them seriously. But they were investigating a highly dangerous crime that had the potential to escalate, which meant Chloe could end up hurt-or worse. Compartmentalizing the emotions that went with that kept them sane, no matter how strange it looked.

Addison, Maxwell, Isabella, and Hollister had spent the morning reviewing the precious little background they had on Bishop, then dividing up all the tasks involved with deep-diving into his past. Isabella and Hollister had taken his early college years to work forward, while Addison and Maxwell were starting with his most recent employment history and working back. They'd meet somewhere in the middle, and hopefully, by that time, Capelli would have something they could use not only to solidify the protective order against Bishop, but to arrest him on formal charges, once and for all.

Reaching for her desk phone, Addison dialed the number on record for Bishop's boss. As far as she could tell, he'd only been with the Tennessee-based company for a little over a year and the position was entirely remote, but it was enough that his supervisor might be able to give them a nugget to work with.

A woman answered on the third ring, identifying herself as Jane Whitley, and bingo. "Hi, Ms. Whitley. My name is Detective Addison Hale, with the Remington Police Department's Intelligence Unit. I was hoping to talk with you about one of your employees. Myles Bishop?"

"Oh." The woman paused. "I hope everything is alright."

"I just have a couple of routine questions. Crossing my Ts and dotting my Is," Addison said brightly while choosing the truth she could tell. "Can you tell me how long Mr. Bishop has been working for you?"

"Thirteen months," Ms. Whitley said. "He started just after our corporate retreat at the end of last January."

"And how often do you interact with him?"

"Gosh, I don't know. I have a weekly online meeting with the programmers-they give the team updates on active projects, talk about the tasks they've completed. That sort of thing. But I don't really talk with Myles much outside of those, and nearly all of our communication is via email."

An odd feeling plucked at the back of Addison's neck. "Is it common for a member of your team to have so much independence?"

Ms. Whitley let out a laugh. "Only when they're as self-sufficient as Myles. Nearly all of our programmer positions for this division of the company are remote, and let's just say some of the employees need more accountability than others." "But not Mr. Bishop?" Addison asked.

"No. He completes his tasks on time and his work is solid."

Addison scribbled the interesting choice of words on a notepad in front of her. Solid was different than exemplary. Good but not great. "If I could ask, how else would you describe him?"

The question seemed to stump her, but only for a minute. "Well, as I said, he's efficient. For the most part, he keeps to himself, really. I'm afraid I don't really know him that well, other than to say he's competent at his job and has never given us any problems." Of course, Bishop would want to fly under the radar to give himself a nice, solid front. "What can you tell me about his employment history?"

"Oh," Ms. Whitley said, surprised. "Well, we always check for things like a criminal record, of course. Myles's first reference checked out just fine, and his employment history and credentials seemed in order, so..."

Addison sat up straighter in her chair. "You didn't verify all of it?"

Ms. Whitley cleared her throat, leading into an uncomfortable silence. "Naturally, we did a cursory check. But he interviewed well and had strong job proficiency. Please understand, we have over fifteen thousand employees, and the turnover rate at a company this size is rather high. There simply isn't time to fully vet every single one."

A fact that Addison was willing to bet Bishop had counted on. "I do understand, Ms. Whitley. Do you still have Mr. Bishop's résumé on file?"

A few clicks later, the résumé was in Addison's inbox and she'd thanked Ms. Whitley for her time. She scanned it, pulling all the contact information for Bishop's past work experience. Denver, San Diego, Cleveland...all of them remote, all for large companies. Addison dialed the phone number for the first former supervisor, but ended up going directly to voicemail. The next three numbers were an exact repeat, and she turned back to her desktop, clicking through to the websites for each company. They were all large businesses- too large to put full employee directories on their public-facing websites-and something twanged again at the back of Addison's neck.

She leaned back in her chair to shoot a glance across the room. "Hey, Capelli, can I get your expert opinion on something?"

He looked up from his monitor. "Well, I suppose that depends on the subject matter on which you'd like feedback."

Dear, sweet, literal AF Capelli. "Background checks."

"Oh. In that case, yes."

Waving him over to her desk, Addison showed Capelli what she'd found. Along with what she hadn't. "I know that this looks like it's on the up and up. But Bishop's always got an answer for everything, and this feels hinky to me." One dark blond brow lifted. "Hinky."

"I know, I know. Not technical, nor quantifiable," she said before he could give her a raft of crap. "But I feel like everywhere we turn, he's made just the right response to check all the boxes, yet also be utterly forgettable." "So he doesn't stand out one way or the other."

"Exactly," Addison said.

Capelli's chin lifted, his forehead creasing in thought as he looked at the websites she'd pulled up and pored over. "You're absolutely right," he said, turning back to the résumé Bishop's current supervisor had sent. "Everything about Bishop-his responses to Chloe's allegations, his methods of stalking her undetected, and now, it seems, his work history, are all highly calculated. I think, at this point, we should consider not just whether he's done this before-" "Which he absolutely must have," she interjected. No way was he first-timing it with this much cover.

"-but whether or not he is who he says he is."

Addison blinked. Opened her mouth. Closed it. Then, finally managed, "You think he's faking parts of his background? I mean, I know we've seen worse, but isn't that a little..." "Extreme?" Maxwell supplied, having gotten off his call and listened in for the last minute or so. "Not to mention, difficult?"

"Yes and yes," Capelli said. "But that doesn't mean it isn't also true. If Bishop's done enough research to know what to cover up-and it certainly seems that's the case-then it's not that big of a logic leap to think that he could have found a way to alter his personal history." Addison let the thought sink in, her heartbeat beginning to escalate, and Capelli continued.

"Like Maxwell said, altering your online personal history is pretty advanced stuff-not to mention, in the case of altering things like DMV records or criminal records, it's highly illegal, which makes it risky. But at this point, given how clean Bishop's history is and the likelihood that he also has access to someone with a high level of technical expertise, I think we need to consider that, at the very least, he's lying about his past. At worst, he may not be who he claims to be, at all." "Can you find out?" Addison asked.

Capelli arched a brow at her, and God, she should've known better than to ask. "Of course I can. But it's a time-consuming process."

"How time-consuming?" Maxwell asked.

"It depends on how big of a rabbit hole I fall into once I start digging. But worst-case, it could be days."

Ugh."Then, don't waste any more time talking to me." Shifting her focus to Maxwell, she said, "Did you find anything?"

"Other than a whole lot of 'I don't really know the guy'?" Maxwell shook his head. "Nope."

"Same here. Bishop seems to have gone out of his way to be entirely unmemorable. His own boss couldn't give me anything other than 'he's a good worker"." Addison looked at Isabella and Hollister, both of whom were on their phones. "I'm not sure how much we'll get on the work front, but we can still dig into the present. Do you want to take a field trip?"

Maxwell reached for his jacket. "Bishop's apartment building?"

"Yep." She snagged the keys to the Charger and headed toward the stairs, Maxwell at her hip. "I know Bishop's good, but nobody's perfect. If we kick enough rocks, eventually one of them will have something under it we can use."

"Works for me. I'd love to put this a*****e away."

They hit the bottom of the stairwell and made their way down the main corridor, turning the corner leading past the desk sergeant's station...

And ran smack into Ryan.

"Oh!" Addison's heart did a treasonous double backflip. But come on, that flirty little smile should be freaking illegal in all fifty states. "What are you doing here?"

"Actually, I'm multi-tasking. I came to get a secure device from Capelli so I can video chat with Chloe later, but I also wanted to drop this off for Sergeant Riordan"-he handed over a takeout container from the Burrito Bus, then fist-bumped the crotchety desk sergeant "and this for you."

A large white chocolate frappé topped with whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles appeared in her line of vision, and there was no stopping the pang in her chest or the great, big, goofy smile that plastered itself to her face.

"This one? He's okay." Riordan lifted his chin at Ryan, whose grin elevated to just below shit-eating status, and seriously, Addison was trapped in an alternate universe.

She turned to stare at the desk sergeant. "Are you serious? It took, like, five months' worth of donuts before you said I was 'okay"."

Riordan shrugged. "What can I say? Carnitas are my love language."

She shook her head and laughed as Riordan retreated to his office, presumably to eat his lunch. To Ryan, she said, "Do I even want to know how you figured out how to charm him?"

Ryan lifted one gorgeous, T-shirt-clad shoulder halfway before letting it drop. "Guess I'm just really good at guessing people's love languages."

"Are you," Addison said, the challenge in her voice clear as she took a sip of her frappé.

A smirk played on Ryan's lips. "One word: sprinkles."

Shock mingled with something else entirely, making her pulse race and her cheeks go hot.

The sensation didn't get any better when Maxwell snorted and said under his breath, "Oh, yeah. That's totally a thing."

She gave her partner a saccharine smile, along with the finger, before turning back to Ryan. "Well, thank you for the sugar rush. I got a quick text from Master Ah-lam this morning, letting me know everything was okay over there, but I'm sure you'll rest easier once you see Chloe for yourself."

Ryan's smile faltered. "Yeah. I get why we need to take all these precautions. Bishop's a tricky SOB. But I'm not gonna lie. It's driving me pretty crazy, not being able to talk to her. I know you guys are on it, though," he added, dividing an apologetic look between her and Maxwell. "It's just tough."

"Chloe's your sister, man," Maxwell said, growing serious. "We get it. We're going to nail this guy."

"We are," Addison affirmed. Unable to stop herself from comforting him, she reached out to squeeze Ryan's forearm. "We've even brought in Delia to help Capelli do some digging on Bishop's finances and online connections."

Surprise touched Ryan's features, his dark brows lifting. "Wow. You guys really are pulling out all the stops, huh?" "Yep. I promise, we've got this."

Ryan locked eyes with her. In reality, the shared look probably lasted for only a beat, there and then gone, but Addison felt it as if it had been a full-body embrace.

He trusted her.

"Thank you." Stepping back, Ryan gestured to the stairs leading up to the second floor. "Well, I'll let you get to it. I'm meeting up with Gates later, just to try and do the normal thing. Or at least to get my mind off of all of this for a little while. But if anything happens, if you find anything..."

"I'll call you, of course."

"Thanks. Be safe, both of you."

Addison waited until Ryan was well out of earshot before turning to Maxwell, pre-emptively lifting one hand. "Don't say a single word."

Maxwell, the smug fucker, gave up a rare grin as they moved toward the exit. "Oh, yeah, no. There's no chance I'm keeping quiet about all"-he drew an imaginary line between Addison and the path Ryan had taken upstairs-"that. He made you blush." "I was not blushing," she argued, cutting a direct path to the Charger.

"Please. Don't insult my observational skills. You were definitely blushing," Maxwell argued back.

This was what she got for having a detective as her partner and closest friend. "Fine," Addison grumbled, getting into the car and waiting for Maxwell to wedge his big self into the passenger seat before continuing. "So Ryan makes me feel a little...toasty." Maxwell chuckled. "You make it sound like you're being roasted over a spit."

"Annnnd I will not want kebobs for the foreseeable future, thanks so much."

"I didn't mean literally, doofus," he said, and she caught his eye roll from the corner of her vision as she made her way toward Fireside Park. "I meant your tone. Dempsey making you feel good isn't a bad thing, Hale. You don't have to push back on it." She opened her mouth to argue. Pulled up all the words she'd always assigned to the idea of another person making her happy on an intimate level more than once.

And they rang hollow in her head. It wasn't a bad thing. Which should scare the hell out of her, she knew.

But it felt too good to.

They rode the rest of the way to Bishop's apartment in silence, which let Addison get her head fully back to the matter at hand. She parked in front of the building, both she and Maxwell getting out of the car and scanning the street from opposite sides as they made their way toward the main entrance. Adrenaline pushed through her bloodstream, tapping along with her pulse, but she tempered it with a slow, deep breath.

"Okay," she murmured, stopping inside the vestibule to scan the list of residents beside the buzzers. "Let's start kicking some rocks."

Pressing the buzzer for apartment 24A, Addison chanted a mental please-please-please, counting her own heartbeats until finally, a woman's voice filtered over the line. "May I help you?"

"Yes, hi. My name is Detective Addison Hale, with the Remington PD. We met about a month ago, when I had some questions for your neighbor, Myles Bishop."

"Oh, yes. I remember," the woman-S. Cooley, according to the directory-said.

"I've got just a few follow-up questions for you, if you wouldn't mind?" Addison said. The woman agreed, buzzing them through the security door. Two minutes later, they'd reached her threshold, and she answered Addison's knock with wide-eyed curiosity. "This is my partner, Shawn Maxwell," Addison said, trying to put the woman at ease with a smile. "Thanks so much for giving us a few minutes of your time."

"I'm Stacie." She opened the door farther to usher them both inside her cozy foyer that led to a comfortable living space beyond. "I'm happy to help, although I'm not really sure how much I'll be able to tell you now that Myles has moved out." Addison's heart logjammed in her windpipe at the same time Maxwell's chin snapped up.

"He moved out?" Maxwell repeated. "Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure," Stacie said. "He left super early this morning, which I thought was kind of weird. But yes, I saw him taking a whole bunch of boxes out of his place, so I assumed he moved out."

Addison's brain spun, her thoughts trying madly to keep up. If they didn't have eyes on Bishop, they'd never know when-or where he might turn up, much less be able to arrest him once they uncovered evidence that proved he'd been stalking Chloe, and yeah, they needed to find him, like, now. "Do you know what time this morning?"

Stacie nodded. "It was about five o'clock. I'd never have been up that early, myself, but I've got a nine-week old Golden Doodle with a bladder the size of a walnut. He's in doggy daycare right now, though, so I can get some work done."

"Did Mr. Bishop say anything to you as he was leaving?" Maxwell asked, but Stacie was shaking her head before he'd even gotten the question all the way out.

"No. We didn't know each other. I don't even think he saw me, to be honest. I was most of the way inside when he opened his door." She bit her lip, but only held out for a second before adding, "I was curious, though, so I kind of, um, eavesdropped a little through the peep hole. I know I shouldn't have, but-"

"It's okay," Addison said, trying to smooth out the excitement in her voice. God, please let this be something. "No judgment at all. Can you tell us what you saw?"

Stacie's gaze flickered to the front door. "Like I said, he was just carrying boxes out of his apartment. But..." She paused, and Addison had to force herself to give the woman a few seconds to let her memory kick in. "The box he was carrying was labeled 'Shelby'. I thought that was weird because he lived alone. At least, I never saw anyone else go in or out of his apartment. Anyway, I didn't know why he'd have someone else's stuff. Maybe she's an ex-girlfriend, or something?"

"We'll definitely look into that," Maxwell told her. He followed by thanking Stacie and giving her his card in case she remembered anything else, then headed back into the hallway with Addison right beside him. "Maxwell-"

"I know," he said. "First thing's first. Let's talk to the apartment manager to make sure Bishop's in the wind. Then, we'll figure out where he went."

A few minutes later, the manager confirmed that Bishop had moved out. "He paid off the balance of his lease in cash and left his keys in the office mailbox."

"Is that unusual?" Addison asked.

The manager's snort said it all. "I've worked here for eight years and it's the first I've ever seen anyone pay in cash. We don't even technically allow it, although I guess I should be glad he didn't stiff us outright since he took off with no notice." Translation: really freaking unusual. "We're going to need to take a look at your security footage," Addison said, but the manager shook his head.

"Be my guest, but we only have cameras in the main lobby and elevator. There's one by the service entrance, too, but it's been busted since yesterday. No idea what happened to it, but the earliest service appointment the security company had was tomorrow, so..." Oh, Addison had a pretty good idea what had happened to it. God, Bishop was slick. "Can we take a look inside the apartment?" she asked. It was a Hail Mary of epic proportions, but right now, even a scrap was better than nothing.

"Don't see why not, since it's vacant, now," the manager said, sliding his desk drawer open to grab the set of keys that were presumably the ones Bishop had left behind. They made their way back upstairs, the manager telling her and Maxwell to take their time before leaving them inside the empty apartment.

"Jesus," Addison said, her voice echoing off the bare walls. There was nothing inside the small living space to indicate that Bishop-or anyone-had ever lived there. There wasn't even dust in the corners, for pity's sake. The place was scrubbed clean. They did a sweep anyway, but it quickly became apparent that Bishop wasn't just gone.

He was a ghost.

Addison took a deep breath, mostly so she wouldn't scream. Bishop had already proven his skill in dodging security cameras, so chances were extremely good that he'd disabled the one at the service entrance in order to slip out of his apartment with all of his things unnoticed. He hadn't counted on running into Stacie, though, or the fact that she'd be curious enough to take a peek at him leaving, and at least that gave them the tiniest sliver of something. But who was Shelby? And why would Bishop have a box with her name on it? And-most importantly-where the hell had he gone?