by A J Rivers
The aftermath left Harlan bloody and reeling. And we still don’t have all the answers. Creagan didn’t even want to get involved. When Lakyn disappeared and things started to unravel, he pushed back against letting me investigate as an agent. But then he realized just how big the situation was, and suddenly it became about his reputation. He wanted to be able to bask in the attention, holding press conferences and doing interviews to talk about justice and the world being a little safer.
There isn’t anywhere near as much glory in having to talk about a case that’s still ongoing. Or to admit we still don’t have all the pieces. It frustrates the hell out of me that I can’t figure out why some of the players were involved or how some of the crimes were committed. I hate that we can’t find The Order or the Dragon. But I’m really not in the mood to get lectured about it. Especially considering there’s literally nothing he could say that I haven’t thought of myself or that will make a difference.
“We are still actively investigating those cases. My father’s undercover work wrapped recently, and we are going over the information he collected. We’re doing everything we can.”
“I know you are. It’s a complicated case and there’s a lot to be done on it. Which is why I think this is the perfect opportunity,” he says.
It feels as if I missed something. As if he told me something important and I didn’t process it all the way through. Or maybe he thinks he told me something and just skimmed past, hoping I won’t realize I don’t have all the details.
“You think what is the perfect opportunity?” I ask.
“The new agent,” he says with a hint of false confusion in his voice.
Yep. That is exactly what he thought he did. He tried to slide this into the conversation so I would think I just missed his saying it and wouldn’t ask. Which certainly won’t be happening.
“Which new agent?” I ask.
“Agent James. She recently finished her training and will be entering the field. She’s located in the Harlan area and has expressed a tremendous amount of interest in you and your work. She could be helpful to you and you could mentor her.”
It’s all I can do to prevent myself from rolling my eyes. “Creagan,” I start, but he cuts me off with a look.
“You ain’t getting out of this one, Griffin.”
Three
“What the hell does he mean, ‘mentor her’?” I ask Sam over speakerphone as I drive away from the headquarters a few minutes later. “How old does he think I am? I am not at mentor age.”
Sam laughs. “You don’t have to be old to be a mentor, honey. You just have to be good at what you do. And you’re the best of the best. He just wants to have more like you. Or as close to you as possible, since he’s not going to get another Emma Griffin.”
“I’m an FBI agent. Not a kindergarten teacher. I don’t need to be responsible for some baby agent who doesn’t know what she’s doing. And I definitely don’t need her getting in my way in one of the biggest and most complicated investigations of my career,” I argue. “Obvious exceptions excluded.”
“I know. But he could be right. She could be helpful. Especially while you’re handling other investigations. You’re still working the Arrow Lake case, and it isn’t easy for you to juggle cases that far apart. She could do some of the groundwork for you.”
“How am I supposed to trust her with something that important? I don’t even know her,” I say.
“Immediately after meeting him, you trusted Dean with helping to investigate your mother’s murder. While a serial killer was stalking you,” he points out flatly.
“Dean is my cousin,” I protest.
“You didn’t know that at the time,” Sam counters. “You just saw that he had skill and was able to help you figure things out. Maybe this woman will prove herself to be useful. And you know how hard it can be for a woman in the Bureau. Your presence could make a huge difference in her career.”
“Are you pulling the ‘sisters are doing it for themselves’ card on me?” I ask.
“I’m just saying maybe you should give her a chance. See what she’s made of. If she’s got the skills, utilize them. If she can’t hack it, she’ll figure it out quickly enough. At least you will have done your part to help and be a good role model,” he says.
He’s right. Of course, he is. Sam is too good for my own good sometimes. A lot of the time. It doesn’t mean I like it. And I guess she’s made it this far. There has to be something in her to get her through training. That isn’t easy.
“Alright,” I say with a sigh. “I’m pretty well done with the ‘feeling old’ portion of the day. Let’s talk about something else. How is everything in Sherwood?”
I’ve come back to Quantico to stay at my father’s house while Bellamy and Eric are on baby watch. I want to be here when their daughter is born, and this is a good opportunity for me to spend some time with Dad. He’s been undercover trying to flush out the missing members of The Order from other chapters. It was an incredible shock when I found out he, my grandfather, and my great-grandfather were all a part of the very same mysterious and deadly organization.
That was before I realized the chapter in Harlan had gone rogue, engaging in activities and rituals that have absolutely nothing to do with the ideals of the true Order of Prometheus. The organization is intended to lift up promising members of society.
Just as the Titan god of fire who gave the organization its name crafted humanity from clay and stole fire from the gods to give to the humans, The Order of Prometheus, in its purest form, is meant to give opportunities and offer support and guidance to men they think have potential. They move through society unnamed and unnoticed, pulling strings, using connections, and flowing money to create paths for these people and ensure success. At least, that’s how Dad describes it.
Somewhere along the line, the chapter in Harlan lost its way. Rather than being about encouraging and supporting the next generation of leaders and influencers in society, they became a frightening pack of imposing, generally wealthy, men who literally wielded the power of life and death over those around them. They created blood pacts that bonded them together. They saw it as creating loyalty and strength. In reality, it was nothing but a savage series of killings designed to promote servitude and fear among those not in the highest tier of the hierarchy.
I haven’t seen much of my father in the last several months because of his work, even missing the holidays with him, so I’m glad to have at least a couple of weeks. Even if it does mean being away from Sam. That’s the only thing that gives me pause. I hate being away from him. But as sheriff of the small town of Sherwood where we live, he can’t just leave for long stretches of time. They need him there to keep order and protect the people and community he loves.
He’s planning to come when the baby is born, but right now he’s saving up his time off as much as possible. With our wedding sometime in the near future, his sights are set on a long honeymoon when we can just disentangle ourselves from the rest of the world and be together.
It sounds like heaven. But one thing at a time.
I listen as he updates me on everything going on in town. It’s only been a few days since I left, but it feels as if I’m missing everything. Fortunately, that doesn’t include a tremendous amount of crime. For the most part, Sherwood is an incredibly safe, wonderful place to live. It has the smaller crimes you’d expect in any small town: theft, bar fights, vandalism, disorderly conduct, traffic issues. Then there are the more difficult situations he sometimes has to deal with, such as domestic violence and other abuse. Serious crimes like murder are rare, but it was just that situation that brought me back after seven years away from the town where I spent more of my unpredictable childhood than anywhere else.
Right now, there isn’t anything that dramatic happening around town. His update focuses more on the people and everything they’re up to.
“Bianca is really looking forward to your class at the community center,” Sam says. “Sh
e’s gotten a lot of interest for it.”
“We don’t even know exactly what the class is going to be about,” I say.
“It doesn’t matter. People want to hear from you. They are interested in your experiences and expertise. Whenever the sign up goes live, I have a feeling all these slots are going to fill up quickly. Maybe you’ll have to start teaching several classes there.”
“How did I start today as an FBI agent and finish it as a mentor and schoolteacher?” I groan.
Sam laughs. “If there’s anybody in this world who can pull that off, it’s you.”
“I think that’s a compliment. If it’s not, don’t tell me. Just let Bianca know I’m finalizing a couple of different courses and I’ll show the options to her once the baby gets here. Then we can figure out when to actually offer the class.”
I’ve been working with the director of the Sherwood Community Center for several months now with putting together a class I can teach. We haven’t been able to nail down exactly what I’m teaching, whether it will be basics of criminal justice or more focused on true crime and the cases I’ve worked. Either way, it’s important to me to include elements of self-defense and safety. Especially for people living in a small town with little crime, they can get lulled into a sense of complacency and think nothing bad could ever happen to them.
Unfortunately, I know for a fact that’s not the case. Awful things can happen anywhere, and it’s critical to be as prepared as possible to respond when they do.
I’ve never particularly understood the common saying that bad things happen when you least expect them. That’s not always true. Some people know when they are in danger and will need to be able to protect themselves. As for the others, of course, they don’t expect it. That makes it even more important to be armed with knowledge and skill that can bring a terrifying and disorienting situation a bit more under control.
My investigations have forced me to delay the class a couple of times, so at least it’s good to hear Bianca hasn’t given up on me.
“How about you? How are you? I miss you,” I say.
“I miss you, too. It’s hard here fending for myself.”
I laugh. This is coming from the man who has lived his entire adult life unmarried and on his own. Not to mention one who has a freezer full of meals and cinnamon rolls ready to put in the oven whenever his heart desires.
“I think you’ll survive.”
“Are you almost back at your dad’s place?”
“I have to stop at the store really fast, then I’ll be there. I’m actually about to pull into the parking lot.”
“Alright. I’ll call you tonight. I love you.”
“I love you.”
We get off the phone and I take a second to let myself be sad. It isn’t as if Sam and I are never apart. When I’m on a case, I might be gone for several days at a time. But this feels different. There’s an open-ended element to it that makes it even harder to be away from him.
I go through the store quickly, then head to my father’s house. Part of me feels that it should be strange to consider the house his again. Technically, it’s mine. My name is on the deed, and it has been since I was eighteen years old. I lived there alone for the ten years my father was missing out of my life. It was my house, but as soon as he resurfaced, it became his again. He moved back in and the interior shifted back to being more like it was when we lived there together during my college years than it was when I lived there alone as an adult.
But there are parts of it that are the same as they were before I left that house to go to Sherwood. Including my bedroom. He kept it the exact same way, so I can come and go as I please. I go there right after dropping the groceries off in the kitchen. I can’t wait to get out of the heels and pantyhose I wore to headquarters.
Once I’m comfortable again, I go back into the kitchen to make a late lunch that I carry into the living room to eat on the couch while I research on my laptop.
Four
“Do you ever take a break?”
I’m mid-bite and almost choke on the mashed chickpea salad sandwich when he comes into the room.
“I didn’t realize you were here,” I say, wiping my mouth with a napkin.
He gestures down the hall toward his room. “I was lying down for a bit. The heat gave me a headache. What are you eating?”
“Chickpea salad on multigrain bread. There’s a bowl of it in the refrigerator for you.”
“Thanks, sweetie,” he says.
He heads into the kitchen and comes back a few moments later with a thick sandwich piled high with the creamy salad, a few big leaves of lettuce, and thick slices of tomato. The other half of his plate is a small mountain of potato chips. Have to balance out all those health benefits. I wish I’d thought of it.
I reach over and snag one of his chips. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yeah. But I’m definitely looking forward to the summer weather being over,” he says.
I chuckle. “It’s July. You’ve got some time ahead of you.”
“I know. But I can start dreaming.” He takes a bite of his sandwich that looks as though he’s trying to devour half of it in one go. It takes him a few seconds to chew and swallow. “How was your meeting with Creagan?”
I sigh and take a sip of water. “Well, he started the conversation by telling me I did a good job on the takedown yesterday.”
“That’s great. That was a really tough case, and it’s good to hear he’s giving you the recognition you deserve,” Dad says.
“Then he told me he wants me to mentor a new agent,” I say.
Dad shrugs and takes another bite of his sandwich. “That’s not all that unusual, I guess. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a supervisor’s directly asking an agent to do it, but I’ve known plenty of established agents taking new ones under their wings.”
“What if I don’t want her under my wing?” I asked.
Dad laughs. “What’s wrong with helping out a new agent?”
“I have too much to do to babysit,” I say. “If she got this far, take it from there. And if she needs help, she’ll find people in her area who can help her. I don’t understand why Creagan decided I need to be the one to hold her hand and guide her through the career she chose.”
“Maybe because you’re the best example of a woman in the Bureau he can possibly think of,” Dad offers.
I shake my head. “Creagan would never say that. Today was the first time I can remember when he actually complimented me on how I did during a job. He can do a little congratulatory comment about its going well or a good resolution for the case. But he’s never just said I did a good job or I handled it well. That would be far too close to admitting he’s not the one who controls everything and makes everything happen. There’s something else behind this,” I say.
“Like what?” Dad asks.
“I don’t know. But I feel off about it,” I tell him. “Besides, I don’t think he has suddenly had some sort of come-to-Jesus moment and he’s going to recognize the contribution I made. And anyway, I’m too busy making said contribution to mama-bird someone else into everything. I don’t have a problem with meeting this woman or being on a team with her if there’s a case I’m working. But, the way he’s talking, it sounds as if he just wants her to shadow me. As if she’s supposed to just follow me around and watch what I do.”
“He’s going to have to understand you’re busy. The cases you’re handling are intense and require as much attention as you can possibly give them. He can’t expect you to just drop everything to spend time with her.”
“No,” I say. “But he thinks she’d be a great help.” I can’t mask the sarcasm in my voice. “Sam seems to think so, too. He thinks that I should be open to letting her do some of the groundwork for the investigation in Harlan while I’m dealing with Arrow Lake.”
“That might not be the worst idea,” Dad nods. “You’ve been trying to go back and forth. That’s got to be exhausting.”
&nb
sp; “But she doesn’t know the case. She doesn’t know what happened or what any of that means. She doesn’t know the people involved. How is she supposed to make a valuable contribution?”
“You tell her the things she needs to know. Or you have her do things that don’t necessarily require her to have all the details right off the bat. You could also ask her to assist Dean when the two of you aren’t working on something together. Having FBI clearance can be more influential than being a private investigator. You know that. Even if he’s the one doing the bulk of the work, just having her credentials to get more information or better access would be extremely helpful,” he says.
“I guess I really don’t have much of a choice. Especially since Creagan’s holding hostage the case files I need,” I admit.
Dad looks at me questioningly. “What do you mean? Which case files?”
“I want to look at the full files about Greg’s death,” I tell him. “I have some of the information and some pictures Eric was able to get me. But Creagan hasn’t wanted me involved in the investigation, so I don’t have all the details.”
“Why do you want them?” Dad asks. ”Has he changed his mind and is going to let you investigate?”
“I don’t think so,” I say. “He should, but he’s still insisting I’m too close to it. But I need to see the actual pictures. I need the medical examiner’s report and evidence collected on the beach.”
“You’ve figured something out,” Dad observes.
“Maybe,” I say, letting out a breath. “I’m not sure what it is yet. It feels as if there are connections that are right there, right at the tips of my fingers. I just have to figure them out.”
Five
“Do you still think Greg’s death has connections with The Order?” Dad asks.
“I think the thread is there,” I nod. “You said that nobody you spoke to in any of the other chapters had ever heard of him?”
