by Tess Diamond
A tense minute passed, and then: “All clear, boss. Bomb is defused. You’ll want to come in here and see what we’ve got.”
The three of them hurried up the steps and into the brownstone. The bomb squad was grouped around Jeremy, his back to them.
“What is it?” Grace asked.
He turned. “This was in there with the bomb,” he explained, holding the book out to her.
Grace’s latest book.
“Oh, no,” she said.
All Gavin could think as she stepped forward were her first words when he first saw her holding the box, thinking it was a bomb: This is really bad.
“Someone give me some gloves,” Grace said. She was handed a pair, which she snapped on. “Let me see it,” she said.
Jeremy handed it to her. She removed the dust jacket and searched the dark blue cover. When she flipped it open, all the blood drained out of her face. Gavin stepped forward, alarmed, half-afraid she was going to keel over. But instead she began to read.
“‘My dearest FBI,’” she said, her words halting. “‘Is this the best you can do? If you want to put it all together, you’re going to have to dig deeper. Good luck.’”
He watched as she began to leaf through the pages, his chest tightening as her face grew whiter and whiter. “There’s a code,” she said. “Passages are underlined, letters and words are circled. It looks random but . . .” She looked up, her eyes searching for and then finding his. “We need to crack it,” she said.
Chapter 12
Grace’s mind raced, jumping from possible scenarios to criminal profiles. Someone meticulous and intelligent who felt downtrodden and ignored. He had an ego, a sense of grandeur that people in his real life either dismissed or mocked. Obviously a perfectionist, he was a planner. He was probably in a job that made him feel undervalued and ignored.
“If it’s coded, then we need to get it to the math guys at headquarters,” Paul said, gently taking the book from her. “Walker, give her a ride to HQ.”
“We’re going to get out of your space as soon as we can,” Jeremy said reassuringly. “We did an initial sweep of the house, but I want to do one more, inside and out, just to be safe. The device in the box was basic, but it would’ve gone off. I want to make sure he hasn’t tucked any more around your house. I promise we won’t break any of your pretty baubles,” Jeremy said, waving his hand at the sculptures and paintings that were sprinkled across Grace’s living room.
“Of course. Do whatever you think is best,” Grace said. She was almost positive there wasn’t a bomb in the house—her guy, whoever he was, wasn’t a sophisticated bomb maker if the amateurish explosive he’d dropped on her doorstep was any indication. It didn’t fit the profile that was beginning to take shape in her head. “Just make sure everything’s locked up when you’re done?”
“Will do,” Jeremy said. He clapped his hands. “Boys, we’re gonna sweep the house one more time. Michael and Luke, upstairs with me. The rest of you take the dining room and kitchen and basement.”
Grace grabbed her red trench coat, pulled it on, and looked at Gavin. “Let’s go.”
She was quiet during the whole ride to headquarters, even when they got caught in a tangle of lunchtime traffic. But Gavin made no attempt to coax her into conversation. She was grateful for it—she needed to think.
They walked together through the maze that was the underground parking structure and took the elevator up in continued silence. As soon as the doors opened on the second floor, a flurry of activity and people greeted them.
“Agent Harrison is with the press liaison in his office,” Paul’s secretary said. “He’ll let you know when he’s available.”
“Grace, are you okay?” Zooey asked, leaning in for a hug. “When I heard bomb squad was over at your house, I freaked.”
“I’m fine,” Grace reassured her. “Gavin got the bomb contained.”
“Right on, cowboy,” Zooey said.
Gavin smiled.
“I need you and your team to take a look at this, though.” Grace held up the book she’d taken back from Paul before leaving her house.
“We’re set up in the north conference room,” Zooey told them. “Come this way.”
They followed her into the room and took a seat at the huge oak table, Grace gripping the book tightly.
She wasn’t going to let it out of her sight.
Zooey sat down next to her, snapping on a pair of gloves and spreading a sterile paper sheet across the table. Grace set the book on it.
“Okay, so what’s the deal?” Zooey asked. “That’s your latest book.”
“It was in the package with the bomb,” Grace said.
Zooey frowned. “Doesn’t that kind of defeat the point?” she asked. “If it went off, the book would be in pieces.”
“It was a test,” Grace said. “Our unsub wanted to see if I’d pass. If I didn’t, I’d get blown up. If I did, I got the next clue.” She pointed to the book. “It’s in code,” she explained. “You can check it for fingerprints or DNA, but I can tell you now, whoever did this isn’t leaving anything behind.”
“He’s too damn careful,” Gavin said.
“Yep,” Grace said, the p popping a little in her anger. She shook her shoulders, trying to get rid of the adrenaline that was still pumping through her.
“Well, you’re in luck, because one of my hobbies is code-breaking,” Zooey said. “The guys have me sit in sometimes. And speaking of the guys . . .” She nodded to the door, which opened, and a group of techs and code-breakers poured in.
“I’m Agent Sinclair, to those of you who don’t know me,” Grace said to the group. “This is Agent Walker.” She held up the book. “And this is the evidence in question. We need to figure it out fast, people.”
Grace handed over the book to the lead tech as the team set up their scanning station on the table.
“That’ll take ten minutes at least,” Zooey explained. “You don’t exactly write short books.”
Grace let out a burst of laughter that sounded a lot harsher than she had intended. She closed her eyes, breathing in deep. She could practically feel her nerves starting to fray, her calm unraveling, her control spinning free.
“I’m going to get you some coffee,” Gavin told her.
“Oh, you don’t need to,” she said, even though a cup of coffee sounded like heaven right now.
“But I want to,” he said. “Be right back.”
“I think he’s sweet on you,” Zooey whispered as Gavin left the conference room.
“Oh, shush,” Grace said.
“You’re blushing.” Zooey grinned. “I’m gonna let you alone to think.” She reached down, hugging Grace lightly. “I’m really glad you didn’t blow up,” she said.
“Me too,” Grace said.
Zooey patted her shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay,” she said.
“Of course,” Grace responded automatically, but she didn’t quite believe it.
As the techs scanned each page and transferred the information to the laptop, Grace sat and tried to puzzle it out the organic way: with her superior human brainpower.
It was her book on her doorstep. Whatever was inside it, whatever the coded message, it was meant for her.
He wanted her to feel small. Scared. That was the only reason to make her think the package was a bomb. He got off on fear . . . on feeling smarter than everyone else in the room.
And he liked tricks.
Grace sat up straight, insight hitting her hard. Breaking his code would mean they were smarter than he was—and that would enrage him. He wouldn’t want to feel that.
No, he wanted to make them feel stupid.
“Zooey!” she called out.
“Yeah?” Zooey looked up from arguing with one of the techs about page numbers and algorithms.
“Where’s the box the book came in?”
“Jeremy said he’d take it to my lab for me,” Zooey said. “It should be there.”
“I’ll be rig
ht back,” Grace said suddenly.
Before anyone could protest, she raced out of the room, almost slamming right into Gavin, who was carrying two cups of coffee.
“Where are you going in such a rush?” he asked.
“I’ve got an idea,” she said, grabbing the mugs and putting them on a table. “Come with me.” She took his hand and hurried down the hall toward Zooey’s lab.
Like Zooey herself, the room was an odd mix of sterile science and colorful eccentricity. Her computer area was surrounded by vintage toys and a few random Legos. There was even a framed photo of Zooey performing as Janet in a shadow-theater version of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, complete with corset, blond wig, and platform heels.
Grace smiled at the picture and walked over to the stainless steel table. The box was sitting there, looking completely harmless.
“The unsub wants to feel smarter than us. Smarter than me,” Grace explained to Gavin as she picked up the box, examining the outside from all angles. She traced her finger over the neat handwriting. He was obsessive, clearly. Fastidious. He’d put a lot of thought into presentation.
“So you think there’s something in the box? That the book’s just a red herring?” Gavin asked.
“I don’t know,” Grace said. “He designed the package just so. Perfect enough to make me pause if I was smart enough.”
“It’s a huge gamble,” Gavin said. “What if you hadn’t noticed? Or been unable to defuse his crappy bomb?”
“He wanted me to call the bomb squad,” Grace mused. “He wanted me to get it all the way to HQ. Why?”
“Maybe he’s getting off on the idea of playing us the fool? Fucking with the FBI?”
Grace picked up the box, tipped it upside down, and shook it gently, but nothing fell out.
With a pair of tweezers, Grace grabbed an edge of the foil lining and began to peel it back. Her eyes widened when she saw a strip of paper laid across another layer of foil. “Look,” she said, pulling the foil back farther, revealing more strips of paper sandwiched between the sheets of foil.
“Shit,” Gavin said. “More games.”
He’d double-lined the package so the paper would be hidden from the X-ray. Tricky. Smart.
“This guy likes to be the smartest person in the room,” Grace said, peeling back the first layer of foil. “When he’s challenged, he probably throws a fit.”
“And now he’s challenging you,” Gavin said.
“Lucky me,” Grace said wryly. She lifted the strips of paper with the tweezers as they were revealed and placed them on the table.
By the time she was done, she had ten strips, all with random markings.
A puzzle for her to solve.
“Who the hell is this guy?” she asked under her breath as she began to arrange the strips, fitting them together.
“You need help?” Gavin asked.
She shook her head. “Let me try on my own first,” she said.
It took her just a few minutes—she’d always been good at puzzles. Once she’d fit the longest slashes with the shortest, what looked like arbitrary lines on the strips of paper suddenly morphed into a message:
117 Lincoln Blvd. #105
2:00 p.m.
Grace looked up at the clock in the lab. It was almost three.
She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.
“Shit, we’re late,” Gavin said.
“But what for?” Grace asked. “Who’s waiting for us at that address?”
Gavin looked at her soberly. “It’s time to go find out.”
Chapter 13
My pretty girl,
I’ve waited. Patient, steadfast, for you to come to me. To atone for your behavior.
I had faith you would return. I’d hoped you would remember what you really were, how we were. Who you belonged to. I prayed the guilt would crush you into the woman you were truly meant to be.
Your sins, they’re countless. Immeasurable. Yet instead of crumbling at my feet where you belong, you continue. You live and laugh and keep climbing.
So ambitious, always. Prepared to do anything. Fuck anyone.
You never knew your place.
It’s high time I teach it to you.
Starting now.
Chapter 14
117 Lincoln Boulevard was a large brick apartment building favored by professionals—lawyers, doctors, lobbyists. Expensive and tasteful, and by 4:00 p.m., it was swarmed by SWAT and DC police.
“We’re just waiting on the all clear from the advance team,” Paul said.
“We’re already late,” Grace snapped, the tension seeping into her voice. Paul frowned at her, and she let out a long breath. “Sorry.”
“We need to be careful,” Gavin reminded her gently.
She softened for a moment. “I know, I—” She stopped, realizing that one of the cops stationed near them at the door was rolling his eyes at her impatience, and all that softness Gavin brought out in her dissipated.
“Hey, you!” she called. “Yes, you. Don’t look at me like that. I’m not your mother.”
The man’s eyes went big. “What?”
Grace propped her hands on her hips. “You heard me. Don’t take your problem with women in authority out on me just because your mother was a career woman.”
He gaped at her. “Have we met?”
“No. Now go do your job and stop eavesdropping.”
She turned back to Paul, who raised an eyebrow.
“What?” she demanded.
“You need to—”
“If you tell me I need to calm down, we’re going to have a problem,” Grace said, an edge to her voice. “I told you there was more to these cases. I told you there was a connection—and you dismissed me, Paul! You mocked me. Tell me the truth: If Gavin had come up with similar theories and taken them to you alone, would you have dismissed his ideas?”
“I—” Paul sighed. “I don’t know,” he said, in a way that told her that he did know—it just made him uncomfortable to think about. This time, she was the one rolling her eyes.
She’d chosen a male-dominated career, but sometimes she wished she didn’t have to fight so damn hard to be taken seriously.
She was done. This case was grating at her, and he was being so stupid. “This is bullshit,” she growled. “I’m not going to cater to your male ego when there are lives on the line!”
“Grace,” Paul said, his voice sharp.
“I’m gonna give you two a few minutes to talk,” Gavin said tactfully, stepping out of the way.
Paul grabbed Grace’s arm, pulling her down the street, away from the throng of people. She went, but angrily. And as soon as they were out of earshot, she rounded on him. “You are being an asshole,” she hissed. “What is going on with you?”
“You’re crossing a line, Grace,” Paul warned.
“It’s one thing for you to dismiss my concern about your well-being when I come to you as a friend,” she said. “But it’s another to dismiss my theories as a psychologist and a profiler. This is my job. This is what I am brilliant at. I am the best there is, and I am on your team, which is barely being kept together right now because you’re not leading it!”
“I’m doing my job,” he said, his mouth a hard line of disapproval.
“You’re hiding behind a desk because you’re scared of making the wrong decision again,” Grace said.
And there it was, out in the open. The truth. She could see it in his stricken face, in the way Paul’s shoulders slumped all of a sudden, like all the fight had gone out of him.
“You dismissed Maggie’s theories about the cabin during the Mancuso case,” Grace continued, gentler now, knowing she was finally getting through to him. “She didn’t want SWAT to go in that soon. But you overrode her. You thought you knew best and you made a choice and people died. And you got a bomb strapped to your chest. That would mess up anyone, Paul.”
“I’m a goddamn FBI agent, Grace,” he said, his voice low and tight, his eyes full of a pain he�
�d been hiding. “I am supervisory agent. I lead an elite team. I’ve worked in the field for fifteen years. I’m better than this.”
“Oh, screw that,” Grace said fiercely. “Trauma is trauma, Paul. We can’t predict how we’ll react until it happens. You can’t be ‘better’ than PTSD. It’s not weakness, and it’s not mind over matter. But it’s just going to get worse unless you learn coping mechanisms and how to deal with it.”
“I am dealing with it,” Paul gritted out.
“You’re hurting yourself,” she said. “You’re worrying the people who work with you and care about you. And you’re hampering my investigation. And we both know you are better than that.”
The radio in Paul’s hand crackled. “We’re all clear here, boss,” said a SWAT team member. “One body. Female. Late thirties. We’re going to need forensics. And an ME. And that profiler of yours. This is a weird one.”
Grace looked at Paul. “I’m going in there,” she said. “And if there are diamond earrings on that corpse, you are going to give me the freedom to treat these cases as serial murders.”
“And if I refuse?” he asked.
Grace’s stomach twisted. “Then I’ll go over your head,” she said. “And they’ll side with me over you, Paul. Not just because I’m right. But because I bring in a hell of a lot of good press for them.”
“You would really do that?”
“I will do anything to catch this guy,” Grace said, that fierce heat climbing inside her chest at the thought. “That’s my job. You might want to remember it’s yours too.”
Without another word, she stalked down the sidewalk, Gavin falling into step with her as she entered the lobby.
“How’d it go?” he asked as she pressed the elevator button.
“Well, he didn’t fire me. Yet,” Grace said.
“You’ve got some nerves of steel, Grace,” he said as the elevator doors shut behind them. “I like that in a woman.”
