Worthy of Trust and Confidence

by Kara A. McLeod

  I studied him for a long moment as I debated the merits of playing dumb and asking him to clarify. Ultimately, I was simply too exhausted and too preoccupied to prolong this exchange.

  Checking my phone to see whether Allison had responded to my message from that morning, I answered him. “Yes. I knew.”

  I turned away and started walking down the hall, as much in an effort to get on with the rest of my life as to lure him away from the interview room before Claudia emerged with Mark. I didn’t need my father to assault a prisoner who’d just confessed to deliberately trying to have me killed. A jury probably wouldn’t look too kindly on that. And I wasn’t going to risk having Mark walk on a little technicality like being roughed up by his boss before he was even fingerprinted.

  “You don’t think the fact that you were the intended target of that assassination attempt was something you should’ve told me?” Dad demanded as he matched me stride for stride.

  I looked at him and then went back to staring at my phone, my internal organs twisted into several Gordian knots. Where the hell is she? Why hasn’t she answered me? My ears were ringing, and my nerves crackled and snapped.

  I said aloud, “Why? What good would it’ve done?”

  “How long have you known?”

  “How long have I suspected? Or how long have I actually known? Because they’re two different things.”

  “Both.”

  I sighed softly as I punched my access code into the keypad next to the door in order to let us out of the hallway where all our interview rooms are housed. As soon as the door snicked shut behind us, effectively putting a barrier—albeit an easily overcome one—between my father and Mark, some of my tension ebbed. I took a few steps away from the door and fiddled absently with the handcuff key I always carried in my pocket, pressing the pads of each of my fingers and thumb against the sharp corner in turn, only to start over again.

  “Not as long as you’re thinking,” I answered finally. When he shot me a look of disbelief, I went on. “It occurred to me a couple days ago I might’ve been the target and not the president of Iran. But I didn’t have anything concrete to base that suspicion on. And I only just found out yesterday that Mark was involved in the whole thing.”

  “I see.”

  “You’re angry.”

  “That’s putting it mildly.”

  “I suppose that’s understandable.”

  “Gee. Thanks for giving me permission to be upset.”

  That retort took me aback. This type of reaction wasn’t like him at all. He was normally very even-keeled, even in the face of crises. I frowned thoughtfully, not certain of my next course of action.

  “I don’t want to fight with you,” I told him quietly, grateful the hallway we were lurking in was completely deserted.

  Dad huffed once in obvious irritation and ran one hand though his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you. It’s just that you’re here and are therefore a convenient target for my resentment.”

  “I know. It’s okay.” A beat. “But you get why I didn’t tell you sooner, right?”

  “I understand. I even agree with the decision on some level. I’m just frustrated, and I’m having a hard time maintaining perspective, that’s all.”

  I managed to refrain from pointing out that was exactly why I hadn’t come to him when I’d discovered Mark was involved. Somehow I doubted that what would basically amount to an “I told you so” would be helpful in any way. “If it makes you feel better, I’d probably have a hard time, too, if our positions were reversed.”

  Dad favored me with a small smile. “I don’t know whether that makes me feel better or not, actually.”

  I lifted my hands in a helpless gesture. “I wouldn’t know either, if I were you.”

  “I don’t suppose you’re up for coming with me to make a couple of phone calls. I have to get ahead of this thing. The news will break before long, and I want to ensure all the appropriate parties are in the loop. You know how much the headquarters suits hate to be the last to know.”

  “I do, yes. Do you really need me there for this?”

  My father’s expression became apologetic. “Unfortunately, I do. They’ll almost certainly have questions I won’t be able to answer. It’ll be a lot easier, and the call will go a lot quicker if you’re on hand to fill in some of the blanks.”

  I hesitated, trying to think of a valid reason to beg off. Not only was I not in the mood to answer a million questions, but I was unbelievably distracted. Even though Claudia had assured me that Mark’s accomplices would be picked up at roughly the same time he was, even though getting them into custody should negate any threat to me or my loved ones, I still couldn’t be 100 percent positive Allison was all right, and that was demanding all my attention. I wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else until I heard her voice reassuring me she was okay.

  “What’s the matter?” Dad asked.

  “Nothing. I’m just thinking.”

  “I know it’s a lot to ask after everything that just happened. But, on the bright side, the sooner we do this, the sooner we can put the entire thing behind us.”

  “Yeah,” I remarked bitterly. “Until the press gets wind of it. Then I go back to being a headline again.”

  “It sucks. I know that. But there’s no way around it.”

  I sighed heavily. “I know.”

  “I’m sorry. I’d save you from all of it if I could.”

  “I know that, too.”

  But that was the least of my concerns. My mind drifted. I was busy deliberating whether I should try again to get ahold of Allison. If she was busy or wanted some space, I didn’t want to bother her. But if something bad had happened to her, I’d rather know sooner than later so I could begin to formulate some sort of plan of attack. And until I knew for certain she was safe and sound, my mind would work overtime fabricating horrific scenarios it was unlikely anyone outside of a movie would ever find themselves in. My father wasn’t the only one who invented things to worry about. I could fret with the best of them.

  Perhaps Jamie would have some clue as to where she was. She already thought Allison was pissed at me. If I called Jamie to check up on Allison, she’d just think Allison and I hadn’t made up yet. Or, more likely, that we’d fought again. And I seriously doubted she’d let Allison know I was asking around about her. A spark of hope ignited inside of me as I pulled my phone back out so I could call her.

  My feet must’ve had a mind of their own because they turned and marched me down the hall toward the elevator. I barely noticed. I continued to stare at my phone as I walked, as though I’d be able to make a message from Allison appear by force of will alone. My thumb ghosted over the phone icon, itching to make that call to Jamie. Of course, if I made it now, I’d have to prolong my presence in the office because there was obviously no reception in the elevator. No, better to wait the few minutes until I was outside on the street. Surely, I could contain my overactive imagination for that long. Well, probably.

  “Ryan?” Dad stopped me with a hand on my arm.

  “Huh?” I blinked at him, stymied. “What?”

  Dad regarded me with a completely impassive look. Whatever he was thinking as he studied me was carefully and deliberately concealed behind his painstakingly crafted game face. Years of being an agent had taught him that look. I don’t know what made me think I’d be able to crack it and see behind the mask. But that didn’t stop me from trying all the same.

  “What?” I asked again when the awkward silence between us had grown far too uncomfortable for me to stomach even one moment longer.

  “I asked you if you were okay.”

  “Oh. Sure. I’m fine.”

  “Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

  “Nothing specific,” I lied. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

  “I’m sure everything’s fine,” Dad said softly after a beat. A small, fond smile was playing at the corners of his mouth.

  “Huh?”


  “She’s probably just busy.”

  “Who?” I inquired, out of habit.

  “Agent Reynolds.” When I merely goggled at him, he went on. “That’s who you’re so tied up in knots over, isn’t it?”

  Huh. Guess he was more in the gossip loop than I’d originally thought. I briefly considered lying to him again but dismissed the notion. Worrying my lower lip between my teeth, I nodded mutely. The lump in my throat made a verbal reply nearly impossible. I attempted to swallow against it, but it didn’t work as well as I’d hoped. Actually, it didn’t work at all.

  “How’d you know?”

  Dad’s smile never wavered. “You keep looking at your phone like you’re waiting for something, and each time you do, you seem disappointed.”

  “But how’d you know I was worried about Allison?”

  Dad huffed and shot me a disbelieving look. “I may be a little rusty, but I’m still a trained criminal investigator. And I’m sure she’s fine.”

  Instead of elaborating on what I considered to be perfectly valid reasons for my fears, I resumed my stride down the hall toward the elevators, leaving Dad to follow, or not, as he chose. I was getting the hell out of this building, and I was doing it now. If he wanted to pursue the conversation, he’d have to keep up.

  He did. But in a surprise plot twist, he didn’t say anything else. He merely walked with me to the elevator and stood quietly next to me as I waited for it to arrive. Neither of us spoke. We didn’t even look at one another. We simply stood. I can’t say I wasn’t happy about that. I hadn’t really wanted to continue that discussion. A small part of me had been terrified that once I’d let my fears for Allison’s safety slip past my lips, I wouldn’t be able to contain the torrent of emotions flailing around inside me, straining to break free. And I didn’t have time for a breakdown at the moment. My schedule was pretty tight.

  The elevator eventually chimed, signaling its arrival, and that was when I finally met my father’s eyes. He gave me a fond, loving smile as I stepped forward to enter the car. I stopped in the threshold and turned back to face him, holding the door open with my arm.

  “Will you be able to handle talking to headquarters without me?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll likely email you a list of a few questions I anticipate they’ll ask. If anything else outside of those comes up, they’ll have to wait.”

  The pressure in my chest was back again as my father’s willingness to let me go though he really needed me here moved me. A million little thoughts drifted across my mind, each sparking to life in a brilliant flash only to blink out of existence just as quickly. I wanted to say so many things to him, but I couldn’t find the words to adequately express a one of them.

  “Thanks,” I told him sincerely.

  The elevator began making the ear-shattering buzzing noise that indicated that the door had been held for too long. Dad gave me a reassuring smile and enfolded me in a tight hug.

  “Be careful,” he whispered in my ear. “And give me a call when you get there.”

  “Will do,” I whispered back, blinking back the tears that sprang up in my eyes. He knew me so well. I should’ve figured he’d know exactly what I was going to do without being told.

  Shooting him one last watery grin, I hopped onto the elevator with the sounds of Rico’s announcer voice declaring that “Elvira has left the building” ringing in my head.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The train ride down to DC was easily the longest trip I’d ever taken, and I’d been on a C-130 to Cape Town, South Africa, so that was saying something. I’d called Jamie as soon as I’d stepped out onto the sidewalk outside of NYFO, but she hadn’t answered. I’d more or less already decided I’d be making the trip down regardless of whether I’d received confirmation that Allison was okay, but now that I was still in the dark, well, the trip seemed imperative.

  In an attempt to distract myself from fretting, I’d endeavored to read, sleep, listen to music, and play numerous games on my phone. But I had roughly the attention span of a four-year-old hopped up on cotton candy at a carnival. I could concentrate on the task at hand for maybe twenty seconds before my mind drifted. It was maddening.

  Unlike the imaginary, metaphorically sugar-stuffed toddler, however, I never let my thoughts stray anywhere pleasant. Despite my best efforts, I could only think about the many grisly fates that could possibly have befallen Allison if anyone connected to Mark’s little band of merry men had gotten ahold of her. I took my title of Queen of Inventing Things to Worry About extremely seriously.

  Each call I’d placed to Allison’s cell phone since I’d left NYFO that went straight to voice mail only increased the already leaden weight residing in my gut exponentially. She would’ve arrived back in DC hours ago. She’d had to report to the White House for her shift at fourteen-hundred hours. It was macabre that I hadn’t heard from her and her phone was still off.

  Finally tired of trying and failing to reach Allison, I’d broken down and called Jamie again. I hadn’t realized it was her day off, but she’d immediately assumed my attempts to locate Allison were directly related to my desire to make up with her and been more than happy to tell me what she knew. Which wasn’t much.

  She said Allison had switched her schedule the day before so she’d be whipping the afternoon shift today instead of the day shift—presumably so she could come to New York to spend the night with me—and that POTUS hadn’t had any movements on the books for the day. That meant Allison should’ve been at the House all afternoon. She’d offered to call someone else on the working shift to confirm that Allison had definitely made it in, but I’d told her that wasn’t necessary. By that time, the train was already in Maryland. Whether Allison was at work or not, I was going to DC and didn’t need to call anyone else anymore. After having spent the day worrying myself sick, I needed to see her anyway.

  So, I suffered through the remainder of the longest train ride in human history, followed by the longest cab ride in human history, which preceded the longest wait that any human has ever had to endure for any reason since the beginning of time. I paced back and forth in a small line at the top of the Ellipse, feeling each second drag excruciatingly by as they ticked slowly toward the end of Allison’s day.

  I alternated between wringing my hands and checking my cell phone, hoping Allison would contact me. My mind raced. Actually, it whizzed back and forth like a Ping-Pong ball during a gold-medal match at the Olympics, complete with hollow-thwack sound effects. With each shift in thought, I could almost hear a thunk.

  What if she wasn’t here? What if she hadn’t shown up? Maybe she hadn’t been feeling well and had called in sick. But wouldn’t she have called to tell me? Unless she’d just wanted to sleep without being interrupted. However, that was a really long time to sleep. She might need a doctor. Maybe I could swing by her apartment to make sure she was okay. Did Jamie know where she lived, because I hadn’t been to her apartment yet. But what if she hadn’t made it out of New York? Would Mark have said something to me if he’d arranged for someone to grab her? Used her as leverage to broker himself a deal? Or would he have been afraid that’d get him into more trouble than he was already in? If they were going to take anyone, wouldn’t it have made more sense to snag me? Where would someone take her if they’d grabbed her? Wouldn’t someone have noticed an abduction on a busy Manhattan street? Weird things did happen in New York, though, so maybe no one paid any attention. Of course, maybe it was something more run-of-the-mill. A car accident or medical emergency of some kind, completely unrelated to Mark. How was I going to find her? Her cell phone was off, apparently, but did that mean it couldn’t be tracked? On TV, they could still track cell phones as long as the battery was in. Did that translate to real life? Aside from subpoenas, which provided me with historical data, I had nothing to do with cell phones. I had no idea how or even if I could track her cell phone in real time and whether the phone needed to be on in order for me to do that. Who would know the answer? G
ivens, maybe. Or Cohn. Possibly Johnny Bravo, which wasn’t his real name. We all just called him that because he looked like a real-life version of Johnny Bravo. Did he mind that we called him that?

  That was as far as I progressed in my mental gymnastics because about that time people started trickling out of the southwest gate to head to their cars. With the appearance of each new person, my hopes soared, only to crash again when I realized it wasn’t Allison. An unbearable tightness began to collect in my chest, and my already singed nerves started to sizzle and smoke.

  The throng of bodies exiting the White House complex had swelled and then ebbed again, and now it was nearly nonexistent. I stared at the gate expectantly, willing it to open, but nothing happened. Maybe Allison had gotten caught up talking to someone, but perhaps I needed to accept the fact that she simply wasn’t there.

  Okay, time for Plan B, I told myself. Except I didn’t really have one, which sort of threw a wrench into this whole adventure. I wandered over to a tree and leaned heavily against the trunk with little thought that I was likely getting my suit dirty. I twirled a lock of hair around my index finger as I considered my options.

  I could call Jamie back to see whether she knew where Allison lived so I could check her apartment. If Jamie didn’t know, I’d have to gain access to one of the secure computers, so I could scour our database for that information on my own. And if I somehow managed to accomplish all of that and still couldn’t find her, well, I didn’t know what I would do. Go crazy with worry, most likely. As if I wasn’t two-thirds of the way there already.

  I glanced at my watch and frowned. Allison hadn’t been missing long enough for me to sound the alarm and call in a full-scale police investigation. Not yet, anyway. We were still several hours away from that. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to handle sitting around and doing nothing for that long.

  I dug my cell phone out of the holster on my belt and began searching my dialed-call log for Jamie’s number. I planned to call her to ask her whether she could get in touch with one of the shift agents I’d just seen walking to their cars to determine whether Allison had even shown up for work. I also intended to ask for Allison’s address. If I still came up empty after all that, well, I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.