Racing the Hunter's Moon (Entangled Bliss) Read Free Page B

attempts at trailing Charmers had been driving him crazy. She kept a reasonable distance, but dashed into doorways every time Charmers turned, as though she’d been watching one too many cop shows. And when Charmers and Leonora had gone for coffee last Tuesday, she’d lurked on a table outside with the collar of her raincoat turned up, reading the damn newspaper, for Chrissake.
    Her eyes were open so wide the whole white was visible. “How do you—”
    “I’ve been following him for longer.” He blew out a breath. There was no alternative. His cover was in tatters now; he’d have to confess. “I’m an undercover FBI agent.”
    “You’re FBI?”
    Joe nodded. “I have him under surveillance, and the last time I checked, no agency allows garage owners to run their own private investigations, so what gives?”
    Her throat moved. She reached for the slender gold chain around her neck and rubbed it between her fingers. “Charmers conned my mother, Christine Tremaine, three years ago. He took her money and ran. I tried to find him, but it was as if he’d fallen off the face of the earth.”
    “Three years ago?” Joe’s blood quickened. He’d slipped the FBI net two years ago—there’d been no cases they knew of before that. “Did your mother report it?”
    “No.” Betty chewed the corner of her bottom lip in a way that fractured his focus, made him wonder what kissing her for real might be like. “I tried to get her to, but she was embarrassed about being taken for a fool, and wanted to keep it secret. I employed a private investigator right after, but there was a misunderstanding and he abandoned the trail.” She frowned. “By the time I got my investigator back on it, he’d disappeared. It took a year, but we eventually saw a picture of him in a newspaper. He’d been using a different name, and the FBI had caught him running a scam on another woman. I don’t know what went wrong, but they let him walk. I couldn’t believe it when I saw him in Meadowsweet, using yet another alias. And starting to do exactly the same scam on another unsuspecting woman.” Her hands curled into fists.
    “I know.” Joe knew from bitter experience, because he’d been the FBI agent who screwed up. He’d been so focused on catching Charmers he’d allowed the chain of custody on key evidence to be broken. This time, everything would be done by the book, and Charmers would have no chance to escape.
    He couldn’t blame Betty’s mother for wanting to protect her privacy; the list of Charmers’s actual victims was probably double the number reported to the FBI, which made his movements so difficult to trace. “What name was he using?”
    “Alex Carlisle.”
    Alexander Charmers, Alex Claybourne, Alec Corben, all names familiar to Joe and his team, and all the same man. Excitement skittered along Joe’s nerve endings at the unrecognized name Betty had provided. Alex Carlisle . He needed to notify the team as soon as possible and crunch that name through the system.
    “Where does your mother live?”
    “In the Hamptons.”
    There were no recorded victims in the Hamptons. Perhaps, like Betty’s mother, they’d neglected to report the crime. Rich society would be easy pickings for a man like Charmers, impossible to resist.
    “She warned her friends off him, but didn’t go into specifics. He was living in a beach house that he said he’d bought. Of course, once he disappeared, the truth came out that he’d rented it.” Betty wrung her hands together. “Now he’s trying to con Leonora. Who knows how many other lives he’s ruined over the years?”
    “Maybe dozens. Maybe hundreds,” Joe said. “Your mother must come forward and make a report.”
    “To the FBI?” Her tone was dismissive. “They’ll just screw it up again.”
    “So your plan is to make a citizen’s arrest or something, is it? You’re going to get him in an armlock, wrestle him to the ground, and handcuff him?”
    Her mouth tightened. Her