by Debra Webb
Worth didn’t cave immediately, at least he didn’t say the words. But Ryan knew he’d won. He knew exactly how the Bureau felt about him before Worth had given his little speech. There wasn’t an agent on active duty, including Grace, that Ryan could trust. But she was a rookie, and a woman; he would take his chances with her. He might be rusty, but he wasn’t a fool. He understood where his strengths lay.
“The final vote is yours,” Worth agreed.
Vivian had had enough. “Don’t I have a say in this?”
The attention of both men swiveled her way. Until that moment she had felt as if she weren’t even in the room.
“Do you have a question about your orders, Agent Grace?” Worth leveled a look on her that said she should not try playing hardball with him.
She hesitated but didn’t back down. “Yes, I do. What voice do I have in this? I’m supposed to do whatever McBride says?” She glanced at him, didn’t dare linger. Putting up with him for the day was one thing, but if she was going to be working with him for an unknown period of time, she wanted clear boundaries. The man had absolutely no respect for the concept, and bottom line, he scared the hell out of her. There was absolutely no way to gauge what his reactions were going to be in a given situation. Kidding herself would be stupid.
Before Worth could respond to that part of her question, she went on, “It’s been three years since McBride was on active duty. A lot has changed. I need clearance to ensure that current procedures and protocols are followed.” That he was staring at her made her want to fidget, but she defied the impulse. She wasn’t backing down. Not on this.
“That goes without saying, Grace,” Worth said, his tone subtly reprimanding. “Both of you”—he looked from her to McBride and back—“will be expected to follow the rules. These circumstances aren’t an excuse to do otherwise. Until we get this guy, we have a somewhat unique situation, but that situation does not”—he sent a pointed look at McBride—“I repeat, does not, give either of you carte blanche for ignoring authority.”
McBride got up, sent another glance in Vivian’s direction that she couldn’t ignore. “I’ll be outside.”
Startled that he would just walk out, she prepared to follow him. Dammit. Every time she pushed back, he made her afraid she had gone too far. With this unsub threatening more challenges—victims, in other words—McBride’s cooperation could become even more essential.
How did she keep him in line while staying on his good side? She was reasonably sure of the option he would prefer but he could forget about it. She wasn’t putting her career on the line for him. Going up against Worth initially had been for Alyssa Byrne, not for Ryan McBride.
A thin, jagged line—one she would just have to find a way to walk.
“We need a minute, Grace,” Worth said, waylaying her. “Close the door.”
A new kind of tension shuffled through her. She closed the door and returned to stand in front of the SAC’s desk. Sitting was out of the question. It was all she could do to prevent her foot from tapping impatiently. She needed to get out there and smooth things over with McBride. But first, she was apparently going to have to hear about questioning Worth’s orders in McBride’s presence. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first time she had stepped on his toes in the six months she had been assigned to the Birmingham office. Not exactly the best way to further her career. She knew this, but her determination and ambition always got in the way of her humility and, oftentimes, her good sense.
A less than stellar performance evaluation wouldn’t look good when she came up for reassignment or promotion.
“Yes, sir?” That he had let her stand there and stew had her nerves jangling.
“First, just so you know, Alyssa Byrne is fine. The doctors found no indication of harm or abuse. She was sedated, but the drug utilized was safe for pediatric use. So far, she doesn’t remember anything after getting out of the car at school.”
“Could that be from the drug?” Memory loss was a common occurrence after prolonged sedation, like during surgery. They might never have a description of her abductor—even if the child had gotten a look at the unsub.
“That’s a possibility.” He released a long, beleaguered sigh, signaling that he was ready to move on to the real reason he had asked her to stay. “I’m going to let your disrespect in questioning my orders slide this time considering what you’re dealing with.”
She experienced some amount of relief, yet at the same time she felt just a tad guilty for condoning with her silence what sounded like a cut-down of McBride. He had come to Birmingham with her and helped rescue that little girl. But neither guilt nor appreciation could get in the way of doing this right. If he got out of control and things went wrong, it would be her career on the line. She wasn’t going to let that happen. The Bureau was her life. She wasn’t risking all she had worked for. Requesting clear boundaries had been necessary.
“Thank you, sir. I honestly meant no disrespect, it’s just that—”
He held up his hands for her to wait. “Never mind about that.” He propped his hands on his desk and clasped them as if he felt the urge to pray. “Quantico is still concerned that McBride might somehow be behind this.”
McBride was on the edge, she would go along with that for sure. His reliability and reasoning were in doubt without question. But this concept of him being the bad guy simply wasn’t realistic. “Sir, I can’t see how that’s possible.”
“As much as I hate to admit it,” Worth said, surprising her, “I’m inclined to agree with you.”
Her impatience giving way to curiosity, she wilted into the chair she had abandoned and searched his face for some clue as to what he knew that perhaps he hadn’t divulged so far. “It feels like McBride is a pawn in this, the same as we are.”
Worth nodded in agreement, perhaps somewhat grudgingly. “I said basically the same thing to Quantico. That mess three years ago set the Bureau on its ear. No one wants this situation following that same path.”
Vivian remembered McBride’s last case. The media had focused on it for weeks. But it was reading the final reports McBride had written that had driven all the ugly details home. Kevin Braden had been abducted by his godfather, a man trusted and loved by the family. McBride had tracked him down and the child was still alive. He had gotten close enough to reach out and touch the boy when his superior, Special Agent-in-Charge Andrew Quinn, had insisted on a change in strategy. Quinn had claimed McBride was too close to the edge, a loose cannon. Things had gone to hell in a hurry and Kevin Braden had ended up murdered by his abductor who then killed himself. The autopsy report indicated that the boy had been sexually molested by his beloved godfather.
McBride had taken the fall.
“Our control over how this plays out is limited,” Worth said, dragging her from those awful thoughts, “but we absolutely have to keep McBride under control. That order came straight from the director.”
Worth would get no argument from her there. “I agree,” she confessed, “it would be in everyone’s best interest for McBride to have some close supervision.”
“This isn’t going to be easy, Vivian,” Worth warned. “This is your first major case and, frankly, I’m worried. McBride’s hanging on by a thread. From all reports, he’s a drunk. You could be biting off more than you can chew.”
Evidently he was really worried. Worth never called any of his agents by their first names.
“I can handle it, sir.” She had to make him see that she was capable of dealing with this kind of pressure. The past she had worked so hard to overcome proved a constant hurdle even now. Like the few other people who knew her history, Worth felt it necessary to be cautious, protective. And dammit, she was tired of it. She had plans and goals—like landing a spot in one of Quantico’s elite specialized units. The past was not going to hold her back. “My performance at the academy and my work ethic since coming to Birmingham have given you no reason to question my ability. Don’t do it now.”
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��As long as you keep your objectivity we won’t have a problem,” he insisted. “If you suspect for a second that you’re losing control over the situation, let me know. Don’t hotdog, Grace. We can’t afford to let McBride go—”
“Dirty Harry on us,” she supplied. “You can count on me, sir.” Her pulse rate reacted to an adrenaline dump. This case was hers. Officially. ’Bout time.
Worth pointed a finger at her. “Just watch him. Don’t let him charm you into trusting him. Despite your assessment, we still can’t completely rule out his involvement.”
“I understand, sir.” She stood. “I won’t let you down.”
“One more thing.”
Again she hesitated, waited for him to say whatever else was on his mind.
“Agent Pierce called.”
Anger flared too fast to prevent it from showing. “Was the call relevant to me?”
Worth made an impatient face. “You know it was.”
Somehow she had thought that she’d made it clear to her former friend and mentor that he was to keep his nose out of her career. Special Agent Collin Pierce was the reason she was stuck back in her hometown when a highly sought after Baltimore assignment had been hers. Graduating at the top of her class had come with a perk or two, but Pierce had screwed her out of what was rightfully hers. All because of that damned past.
“If he somehow influences anything relative to my career,” she warned, “that borders on harassment. I won’t stand for it, sir.” She had said it before and she meant it. As dear as Agent Pierce had once been to her, still was on some level, she would not tolerate his interference any longer.
“He heard about this business with McBride and he wanted to see how things were going.” Worth searched her face too long before he said, “He’s worried about you, Grace. Should he be?”
There were a number of things she started to tell Worth he could pass on to Pierce for her, but she kept them to herself. “Tell him I’m fine. Is there anything else, sir?”
Worth shook his head and she walked out. Headed for the stairs. Taking them hard and fast would help her work off some of this steam. Pierce had no right checking up on her. She could do the job. This was her case. Finally. And she wasn’t going to let Pierce undermine Worth’s confidence in her.
In the lobby, she hesitated and considered the real facts here. As much as she would like to believe the end decision for giving her this case was based on her ability, she knew better. Especially considering the call Worth had gotten.
She was on this case because McBride had insisted.
For that, she owed him some amount of allegiance.
He waited in the parking lot by her SUV, the ever-present Marlboro tucked between his lips. That her gaze lingered there as she approached was not a good sign. Objectivity was essential. She couldn’t let him get to her on any level.
“I think you should program my number into your cell,” she suggested, reaching into her purse for her keys. She hit the remote to unlock the vehicle’s doors. If they were going to be working together they might as well act like partners. “And I want you to know I appreciate your vote of confidence. That you trust me enough to work closely with me, is...”—she shrugged, going for nonchalance—“flattering.”
Oh God. Did that sound as stupid as she thought?
McBride took one last drag from his cigarette before putting it out and finally meeting her gaze across the hood of her Edge.
“I wouldn’t exactly call it trust, Grace,” he corrected in that arrogant way that he somehow managed to pull off as sexy. “My options were limited and you seemed like the safest bet. Let’s just hope we can get through this without regretting it.”
There was something about the way he said the words, the blatant uncertainty coming from the man whose reputation as the best had been unparalleled, unmarred by failure—except that once—that triggered her own insecurity.
For the first time in her career she wondered if she really had what it took to do this. What if everyone else was right and the past had damaged her somehow and doomed her to failure?
Only one way to find out.
Chapter Eight
Walmart Supercenter
Hackworth Road
11:00 p.m.
Almost time.
Martin’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. He had planned for so long. Waited and waited. Finally the time had come.
Nothing could stop him from succeeding with this mission.
At first the most difficult part of this challenge had been how to avoid the surveillance cameras. Every Walmart was outfitted with equipment for continuous monitoring of both the interior and exterior of the building, including the parking lot. The idea made a person wonder about the clientele of a business that found such all-encompassing surveillance necessary.
But Martin knew it wasn’t entirely Walmart’s fault or the everyday ordinary shopper’s for that matter. Unfortunately, as Walmart should have learned, there were ways to get around even the tightest security. It was such a shame there weren’t more heroes like Special Agent Ryan McBride around to protect the innocent.
Rage lashed through Martin at the idea that those FBI fools had set McBride aside as if he were unimportant.
They had used him for their own purposes then tossed him away as if he no longer mattered. Martin knew this for a fact. He and Deirdre, his beloved wife, had watched McBride’s career from the first time they had seen him on the news.
“Idiots,” he grumbled. Most of those FBI fools were nothing more than rats trapped in their humdrum offices, running around in circles and bumping into dead ends at every turn. None of them were as good as McBride. All put together they could not hope to fill his shoes.
Solving crime was Martin’s passion. He and Deirdre watched all the good crime and investigation programs on television. Not the make-believe ones like Law & Order or CSI. The docudramas that exposed the true story behind real-life events. They followed cases in the news religiously until their resolution. Nothing was more frustrating than having a case go unresolved, like the one involving young Natalee Holloway from right here in Alabama who had been abducted on her high school class trip to Aruba. McBride should have been on her case.
Foolish, foolish FBI.
Martin would show them. Walmart’s cameras wouldn’t stop him. He was well out of range and his plan was foolproof. Utterly and completely foolproof. He had studied the behavior of one employee in particular for a very long time. Some part of him had always known that his connection to her would play some pivotal role one day.
Now, that day had come. A few minutes from now, the next stage of his strategy would be set in motion.
She would have been first but then he had read in the newspaper about the sealing of tombs at the cemetery. The concept hadn’t been part of his original strategy but his dear, sweet wife, his beloved Deirdre, had found it inspiring and urged him to use the opportunity. He could never let her down.
Whatever she wanted, she would have.
But now he was back on schedule with the oblivious Mrs. Katherine Jones.
Five nights per week Katherine left her second-shift job at Walmart and drove home to her empty house. Her husband had been killed in an automobile accident two years ago and she had chosen not to remarry. Martin understood that kind of loss. There was no way to replace a lost loved one.
There was only vengeance, atonement, and mercy. Before he was finished those FBI rats would know all three intimately.
For Katherine Jones life had been so sad for so long that she wondered at times why she bothered. Approaching forty now with no children and no prospect of romance, she had decided that nothing would change this monotony of sadness. She had said so in the journal she kept on her bedside table. She had also written about her one mistake...that long-ago blip in time for which she had never forgiven herself. She remembered that evening, not as vividly as he, of course, but she had not forgotten.
She would never forget.
Katherine Jones needn’t worry that her life was over. Her time had finally come. Tonight was her night. Her life was about to change, to become a part of something much bigger. This was her chance to redeem herself, to make up for that one momentary lapse that had cost so very much.
Martin smiled as he watched her exit the grocery side of the store’s front entrance. She chatted with two of her coworkers as she crossed the parking lot to her decade-old Buick. The four-door sedan wasn’t much to look at but it was paid for and it allowed Katherine to support herself with reasonable comfort on her paltry salary.
Katherine said goodbye to her friends and scooted behind the wheel of her car. She drove to the nearest exit and merged out onto Hackworth Road. At that same time, across the street, Martin pulled away from the parking lot of a gas station. He adjusted his speed, switched lanes so that he was right behind Katherine’s Buick, and settled in for the drive.
It wasn’t far. Only a few miles and that one weekly stop. That was what made Thursday nights special. Each and every Thursday night, Katherine stopped at the minimarket on her way home. One would think that was an odd thing to do since she had only just left the Walmart where she worked and prices were certainly lower. But Katherine had her reasons. She didn’t want her coworkers to know about the wine she purchased each Thursday night. Friday and Sunday were her days off. Sundays she had church, but on Fridays she slept in. A whole bottle of wine made sure her Thursday nights were restful ones. She didn’t dream about the husband she had lost or the lack of opportunity in her life. Or about that one mistake that would haunt her until the day she died.
She stopped at the minimarket and Martin drove on past, went directly to her small ranch style home and parked across the street, keeping a careful distance from the one working streetlight on the block.
A few minutes later Katherine arrived and parked in her garage. Moments later the lights came on in the living room.
