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“That’s good news,” smirked CJ.

“It is,” she smiled. “Now, we just have to figure out why all these people have been killed and for what.”

“We’ll figure it out,” said Georgie.

They dropped the bags off at the hotel and then made their way toward Quantico, where the Ranger team had agreed to meet them. When they arrived, a private room had been reserved for them.

“Hey, guys, do you read me?”

“Loud and clear,” whispered Moose.

“Alana’s first husband is dead. He was a Marine stationed at Pendleton. I’m talking poster-boy Marine. Six-feet, two hundred and ten pounds of muscle, and badass. He was found dead in his car near an ocean overlook.”

“What was the cause of death?” asked Georgie.

“Bullet to the temple.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Marcus Stone. Twenty-six years old found dead at an overlook that was popular for tourists. A family in an RV said they saw him pull up, step out of his vehicle, and look out at the ocean. They took a few photos, asked him to snap one of their family, which he did, and then they drove away. Five hours later, a state trooper pulled into the overlook, which was supposed to be closed at eleven p.m., and found his body.” Georgie looked up from the screen.

“Four dead. Three with bullets to the temple,” said Moose. “This shit is getting fucked up fast.”

“Wait a minute,” frowned Jill, looking at the report. “Marcus was twenty-six, but it says that his wife was forty-one. That can’t be right. How could Alana have been forty-one? I always thought she and Adam were the same age, maybe early thirties.”

“Hold on,” said Moose, looking back at the files. “Age at death, fifty-two. That was some damn good plastic surgery.”

“How long has she been doing this?” said Jill, staring at the others. “Think about it. The timing from the death of what we believe is her first husband could be all screwed up. Marcus could have been a second, third, or even fourth husband with this information.”

“These guys had to have known the age difference,” said Dan. “If you sign the marriage certificate, you see the age of your spouse, even if it’s a fast Vegas wedding.”

“Maybe that didn’t matter, or maybe she lied,” said Jill. “Can you ask Hiro through your communication thingy if he can track down any other husbands?” The men all laughed, nodding their heads.

“He can actually hear you through our thingy,” smiled CJ.

“Oh,” she blushed. “That’s handy.” There was a knock on the door, and four men stepped inside.

“You asked to see us?” said one of the men. He looked up, seeing a familiar face. “Hi, Jill.”

“Hi, Kip. Nice to see you,” she said with a pained smile.

“Don’t lie, honey. We both know it’s not nice to see us. We’re sorry about what happened with Tim and Alana. It wasn’t a surprise to any of us.”

“Well, it was to me,” said Jill. “Have a seat. Kip Gordon, Demetri Stratafos, Bob Thompson, and Jason Ross, this is Georgiana Robicheaux, an attorney that I’ll be working with going forward.”

“And the gorilla team behind you?” smirked Ross.

“CJ Abbott, Dan Robicheaux, Moose Sculler, Brixton Slater, Sor Teller, and Patrick Fitch,” said Georgianna, lifting a brow as if to let them know they’d better back off.

“Let’s see,” smirked Gordon, “that’s two Robicheauxs, a Slater, and a mixed bag of tricks. To what do we owe the honor of being interrogated by VG?”

“Aren’t you guys curious as to why two members of your team are dead?” asked CJ.

“Friendly fire and a weird accident,” said Demetri, shrugging his shoulders.

“And the fact that Alana Weathers was married to Adam and Tim and was shot in the same way doesn’t bother you?” The men frowned, staring at one another. “Or the fact that her first husband was killed with a bullet to the temple doesn’t bother you?”

“Wait. Wait a minute,” said Ross. “Alana’s dead?”

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