Before It's Too Late

by Sara Driscoll

  “God knows I do.”

  “Back at you, babe.” At the sound of Lauren calling his name, Brian looked up and a huge grin spread. “There’s our boy. Come here, Hawk.”

  Ignoring Brian’s previous instructions, Meg propped herself back up on her elbow and held out one hand to him. “Hey, Hawk. Come here, boy.”

  Already headed toward her, Hawk perked his ears at the sound of her voice, his tail wagging in happiness as he trotted even faster toward her. Reaching her, he danced around her before slurping two sloppy kisses over her cheek. “It’s good to see you too,” Meg said, laughing.

  “Uh-oh.” Brian’s gaze was fixed on Lauren as she pulled herself from the dirt.

  “What?” Meg followed his gaze and immediately understood his meaning. She hadn’t seen it often, but the glint in Lauren’s eyes spoke of pure rage as she stalked toward them.

  “Hi, Lauren.” Brian’s tone was all bright cheer.

  “Stay out of this, Brian.” Lauren focused the full force of her fury on Meg. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I—”

  But Lauren was beyond listening and ruthlessly cut her off. “You go over the head of the Bureau to bring in a reporter and your sister to help with the case, then you disobey a direct order from your superior. What gives you the right to make those decisions? It’s called a chain of command for a reason.”

  Meg was exhausted and her head was pounding like it might explode, so she let the reins on her temper go. “Women are dying in my place, Lauren. I can’t live with that. If it was you, would you be able to live with it?”

  “I’d use the Bureau to help me. You’re endangering lives with your rash actions, including your own and your dog’s. He can’t make these decisions. Are you really willing to get him killed over this?”

  “This isn’t about degrees. I can’t be in this case, but only so far. I have to stop him, so no one else dies instead of me. So whatever it takes.”

  “Then you do what you need to do. But I’m glad you don’t call the shots for me or my dog. Rocco, come!” She stalked off toward Scott and Karen.

  Meg gave a low groan and collapsed back down onto Brian’s coat.

  Brian laid a hand on Meg’s arm. “She doesn’t mean it, at least not to that extent. There’s more fear behind her words than anger. She knows we came within seconds of losing you and Hawk. It scared her. Give her some time to work it through in her own head. She’ll come around.”

  “Maybe, but she’s not wrong. I did go off on my own, just like she said. I did put Hawk’s life at risk. Brian, I could have lost him, just like I lost Deuce.”

  “We could have lost both of you. Look, you made the only decision you could live with at the time, and that’s the best you can do.”

  “You’re the second person to say that to me in the last week.”

  “So, clearly, I know what I’m talking about,” Brian said. Sirens sounded in the distance, growing louder. “Here comes the cavalry. And speaking of which, you have a phone call to make.”

  “Ugh. I know. What do you think he’s going to do?”

  “Suspend your ass is my guess.”

  “I’ll be lucky if that’s all he does.”

  Brian’s smile was gone now. “You disobeyed a direct order.”

  Meg squinted up at him, the brightness of the sky backlighting a halo around his dark head. “You disapprove.”

  “No, I totally understand, and I would have joined you in a heartbeat. But they can’t allow their agents and handlers to just do their own thing. They’ll have to make an example of you. He’ll have no choice.”

  “Brian, I can’t be cut out of this case.”

  “He’ll say you should have thought of that before you ran into that building.”

  “But she would have died. ”

  Brian held up both hands as if in surrender. “Again I get it. I’m just channeling what he’s going to say. You knew the risks going in.”

  “Sure, I knew them. But the only risk that mattered was the weight of her life against mine and Hawk’s. Promise me something?”

  “Whatever you need.”

  “Keep me in the loop. If I’m blocked from the case, I still need to know what’s going on.”

  “Because you’re going to work it from the outside?”

  “Did you expect anything else?”

  “Not really.”

  Meg met his eyes so there was no way he could mistake her intent. “I need to know. So, if he sends any more messages, I need you to forward them to me so I can work them remotely. I’ll never let anyone know I got the information from you.”

  “You won’t need to. There’s going to be a glorious neon arrow pointing right at me. Bring it on, I can take it.” The wail of sirens entered the yard and paramedics jumped out of the ambulances as soon as they stopped. “How about I call Craig,” Brian suggested, “and tell him you made it, you brought Karen out, and you’re being treated. You’ll call him as soon as they let you use a phone.”

  “That works for me. Thanks.”

  “I can deflect him for a little while. But after that, you’re on your own in the lion’s den. Take a spear and shield. You’re going to need it.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Between Scylla and Charybdis: In this Greek myth, Odysseus must navigate between two undesirable outcomes—sacrificing a few sailors or losing his ship. The Greek names are part of the title of a famous book by Henry S. Foote published in 1866 about the “causes, course, and consequences” of the American Civil War.

  Monday, May 29, 9:57 AM

  EAD Peters’s Office, J. Edgar Hoover Building

  Washington, DC

  “I’m Meg Jennings. I’m here to see EAD Peters,” Meg said to the young assistant sitting behind the desk in the outer office. Just beside his desk was a door with the nameplate EXECUTIVE ASSISTANT DIRECTOR ADAM PETERS—CRIMINAL, CYBER, RESPONSE, AND SERVICES.

  “He’s expecting you,” said the young man, briefly looking up from his computer monitor. “Please have a seat and he’ll be ready for you shortly.”

  “Thank you. Hawk, come.” Meg turned and crossed the small office to take one of the three uncomfortable chairs against the opposite wall, signing Hawk the hand signal to sit. No doubt, the chairs were there to discourage people from wanting to take up too much of EAD Peters’s time. She tugged at the collar of her blouse—she much preferred the casual wear the team sported for searches to actual office wear—then pulled her cell phone out of her blazer pocket to double-check she had it on vibrate, only to find a text from her sister sent ten minutes before: Heading to the school for my private lesson with Mrs. Williams so I won’t be here when you come back. Good luck! Stand your ground and make me proud. Let me know how it goes...

  A smile curved Meg’s lips, her sister’s support easing some of the tension locking her shoulders and squeezing her lungs. She was prepared to defend her position, but she knew it wasn’t defensible. When push came to shove, she’d disobeyed a direct order. It may have been for the best possible reasons, but, in the end, that was exactly what she’d done. She’d walked the fine line between doing what she felt was necessary to save a life versus what the Bureau considered proper protocol for normal operations. The only question was how would Peters see it? As a man valuing a human life above all else, or as an administrator running a high-risk operation?

  She slipped her cell phone back into her pocket and leaned her head back against a wall, ignoring its dull throbbing. Brian had stayed with her at the hospital on Saturday through all the various testing, including an MRI. The doctor proclaimed it a grade-three concussion, seeing as she’d actually lost consciousness following the blast, and told her to rest for the next seven days. When Meg reminded him she was an FBI handler on a crucial case, he said the jury was out on how long to rest and for her to be aware of her body and to take it easy as much as possible. She was feeling much better after resting yesterday, but the low-grade, nagging headache wouldn’t go away, no matter wha
t she took for it. Just have to wait it out.

  The phone on the young man’s desk rang and he picked it up. “Yes, sir? Yes, sir.” He put the phone down and looked over at Meg. “EAD Peters will see you now.”

  “Thank you.” Meg stood and started for the door, Hawk at her side. Reaching the threshold, she squared her shoulders, opened the door, then walked through. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

  “I did, Jennings. Come in and close the door.”

  Meg closed the door behind Hawk and turned back to the big desk in front of the wide window looking out over Pennsylvania Avenue NW toward the Department of Justice Building beyond. Peters sat behind the desk, his ice blue eyes watching her keenly from behind his glasses. Peters was one of the most average-looking people Meg had ever met, a trait he ruthlessly used against those who prejudged and often underestimated him based on his appearance. Behind the slight frame, glasses, and balding pate was one of the keenest minds in the FBI, as evidenced by his rise to executive assistant director at age forty-five. He was a force to be reckoned with.

  It was only as Meg crossed the office that she realized Craig sat with his back to her in one of the two chairs facing the desk. Peters motioned to the other chair.

  But Meg came to stand between them instead. “I’d prefer to stand, sir.” Standing, at least, felt like a small release of the building tension. Sitting felt too much like giving up. But she gave Hawk the signal to sit and he did, head up, staring unblinkingly at Peters.

  Peters eyed the dog for a moment before his gaze rose to Meg. “Suit yourself. Would you care to explain yourself, Jennings? It is my understanding you disobeyed a direct order from SSA Beaumont on Saturday.”

  Might as well bite the bullet. Peters will respect that more than dancing around. “Yes, sir. I did.”

  Peters’s eyebrows shot upward. “That’s it? You just admit to disobeying the order?”

  “Well, there’s more to it than that, sir. A lot more. But SSA Beaumont is telling the basic truth of what happened.”

  Peters’s gaze flicked to Craig and then back to Meg again. “Well, you know me, Jennings, I’m not a ‘basics’ kind of guy. You tell me what happened, as you see it.”

  “Are you familiar with the case, sir?”

  “I am.”

  “Then you know women who look very much like me are being kidnapped and their lives are put at risk in various situations. Messages addressed to me are coming in, coded messages, that have to be deciphered to even give us a search location. Then we go in with our dogs to find the victim before she suffocates, a different way each time. For most of them, it’s set up to be a slow, horrific death. A torturous death.”

  “Why do you think he’s choosing victims that look like you?”

  His piercing blue gaze pinned her and she met that gaze openly with nothing to hide. “Because he’s killing me, over and over. Because I’ve done something he considers so heinous I need to die, again and again. Well, sir, I won’t allow that. No innocent woman should be forced to die in my place. We beat him on Catriona Baldwin and on Karen Teller. Only time will tell if we beat him on Michelle Wilson.”

  “Do you consider Sandy Holmes’s death to be on your head?”

  Meg gave a single sharp nod.

  Peters sat back in his chair, his elbows on the arms, his fingers linked together as he studied her over them. “Even though you didn’t know what you were dealing with at the time, and even though that put you and the entire team from the CRRU to the Canine Unit at a disadvantage.”

  “Yes, sir. We had a chance. We missed out by only thirty minutes.” Her voice dropped to a hiss. “Thirty minutes.”

  “Tell me about Saturday. It sounds like there are a few things we need to discuss there. For starters, did you really share the encoded message with your sister and a reporter?” The last word was practically spit, as if made of acid.

  “Yes, sir.” Time to go for broke. “For starters, that reporter is Clay McCord from the Washington Post, someone I’ve come to trust, someone this office should realize has shown himself to be trustworthy. Have you seen a single story from him on this case not sanctioned by Director Clarkson or yourself?” Clarkson was head of the FBI—if the buck stopped somewhere, it stopped with him.

  “I haven’t.”

  “He also happens to be an unofficial expert on the Civil War. Remember the first clue, the one our boys reasoned out incorrectly?”

  “ ‘Find her before she dies. Come to Washington’s House in Alexandria. The clock is ticking on her life.’ ”

  Meg blinked at him for a moment, at a loss for words. She knew he liked to stay on top of the cases in his office, but there were so many of them. She never thought he’d be so far inside this one. That could play to her advantage. “Yes, sir, that’s correct. The clue about Alexandria split the team and lost us precious time. McCord got the correct answer the first time—in seconds. So as messages came in, I started to use him as a sounding board. He knew the subject matter and lives were at stake. When Craig called to tell me where the third victim was, we were already on the way. That’s how we arrived so quickly. McCord had already figured it out.”

  “Based on what?” For the first time, Craig interjected. “You didn’t have the code translation yet.”

  “Except I did. Sir, there’s a part of this case I haven’t told you about yet, for this exact reason. You were going to be angry I went outside the Bureau. I knew if I didn’t withhold this information, you’d likely remove me from this case and I couldn’t let that happen.” She swayed slightly on her feet and Hawk gave a low, anxious whine.

  Peters pointed at the empty chair. “You’re recovering from a concussion. Stop being a hero, Jennings, and sit.” He punctuated the command with an exacerbated finger stab. “That’s an order. I assume you do follow those on occasion.”

  Meg sank into the chair. “Yes, sir.” Hawk circled the chair to sit at her feet and she automatically stroked the back of his neck, just a quick touch to tell him to stay, but also for her own comfort and strength.

  “Thank you. Now let’s make this more of a discussion and less of a lynching. That means putting everything on the table. What haven’t you told us?”

  “I’ve been sharing the codes with my sister from the third victim onward.” When Craig started to speak, she continued right over him, her eyes locked on Peters. “She’s always been a crackerjack with puzzles and codes. I’ve used her before on Richmond PD cases, not that they ever knew either. She never breathed a word of it, no one ever knew, but cases were solved and lives were saved, and I considered it a fair trade-off.”

  “The ends justified the means?” Peters asked.

  “Sometimes, yes. Do you consider a human life more important than following the letter of the law? Before you answer, I should qualify that question with the statement that I’m aware of your history with the department. Particularly with the Bannister case.”

  Peters’s gaze narrowed on her, and Meg’s heart rate kicked up a notch at the thought she’d just gone one step too far with him.

  “Are you now?” Peters said in a conversational tone. Too conversational.

  “I am. I know there have been occasions when you haven’t played exactly by the book because lives were at stake. That you’ve only done it in the most extreme circumstances, and when your back was to the wall and there was no other choice in your eyes. That’s how I felt on Saturday.”

  Peters’s fingers unlinked, their tips tapping together in sequential rhythm. “I do consider human life more important than following the letter of the law. But never the spirit of the law.” The words were a slow drawl.

  The knot in Meg’s belly unraveled slightly. She hadn’t just ended her career; he was giving her the leeway to make her case. “Exactly. Yes, Cara should never have seen those messages. And there was no way she could beat the CRRU boys with their big computers. But she had something they didn’t, and because of it, she figured out something I haven’t shared with anyone in the Bur
eau yet.”

  “And what is that?”

  “We know the messages are coming to me. We know the victims look like me. But the codes have all been linked to me as well. Each keyword for the Vigenère code has been a coded message in itself. The CRRU boys never saw it, but Cara did from the very first message. The numbers in the first keyword spelled the word ‘Deuce.’ ”

  Craig stiffened in the chair beside her.

  Peters saw the reaction, his head cocked slightly in confusion. “That doesn’t mean anything to me. Beaumont?”

  “It’s the name of her first K-9 partner who fell in the line of duty when she was with the Richmond PD.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Peters’s attention turned back to Meg. “That must have been a kick in the gut.”

  “Yes, sir. The second keyword spelled ‘Hawk,’ so she knew it was a pattern and not a coincidence. From that point on, Cara would figure out the length of the keyword and then go through words of that length she could think of having any relation to me. Meanwhile, the CRRU analysts were trying to work it backward based on letter frequency in the English language. Cara’s good, and she always got there first because of her personal knowledge of me. The third code, the keyword was ‘Haven,’ part of the name of my parents’ rescue near Charlottesville, Virginia. While we’re putting our cards on the table, I have to tell you, I have already informed them about the case.” Her voice went hard. “If he touches my parents . . .”

  Peters held up a hand. “I get it, Jennings. I may be in charge of this branch, but I have parents of my own. I can assign agents to protect them.”

  Meg sagged slightly in the chair. “Thank you, sir. I hope we won’t need that, but if we do, I’ll gladly take you up on it. For now, they’re watchful and prepared. They always have security in place to protect their animals. Now they’re using it for themselves.” She took a breath, and prepared to lay the rest of the story out. “Because she had the keyword, Cara figured out the second clue at home, with McCord and me looking on.”