“She did, though, didn’t she? One brownie was secured immediately, and the other turned out to not be what he seemed.”
“Yes,” Sinclair said. She felt a sense of doubt and hesitation.
“What do you think happened in that room, Lieutenant?”
He didn’t shrug like Gianni. He took his time to consider the question seriously, willing to offer his opinion. “I can’t say. I’ve read the reports. The preliminary report indicates that both Crawford and Sanchez were fired upon from the entrance to the room.”
“The timing and damage in the room suggest that Agent Crawford was engaged in the back of the room,” Laura said.
Sinclair nodded, but doubt lingered around him. Laura felt it whenever he said or heard the name Crawford. He had suspicions about her, vague, something undefined. She tried to think of anything she had done as Janice Crawford that might have prompted the emotion. Of course, being in the room when a teammate died might have had a lot to do with it. Laura glanced away in thought. “Lieutenant, present me with a plausible situation in which Agent Crawford shot Sanchez.”
He didn’t startle. “He could have fired on her, and she defended herself.”
She thought it interesting that the first scenario that came to his mind characterized Sanchez as the aggressor. She took that as a possibility that his doubts about Crawford lay elsewhere. “I don’t believe we’ve found the bullet that hit Crawford yet. Where it fell would be an interesting test of that theory. What if Crawford fired at Sanchez first?”
He shook his head. “She didn’t have a weapon that we know of. I didn’t see one when I found her. Crawford didn’t look like she was in any shape to hide a gun at that point.”
Now that was interesting, Laura thought. He was intrigued enough to read the reports to determine if Janice had fired a gun and think about possible scenarios if she had. Of course, analysis was part of any mission debrief, especially for one that had gone wrong, but his quick response indicated he checked that piece of data specifically. “Lieutenant, how would you characterize your relationship with Lieutenant Sanchez?”
“Good.”
Laura raised an eyebrow. She was feeling a sense of embarrassment. “That’s it? Did you socialize?”
He nodded. “We went for drinks together regularly. He was a stand-up guy, a little close to the vest. He loved baseball. Couldn’t stop talking about it.”
“I never understood the attraction myself,” she said.
He laughed. Good, she thought. She had finally gotten a spontaneous reaction from him. She even liked his laugh. “Me either, actually. I’m a basketball fan myself.”
“I like NASCAR,” she said.
His eyebrows shot up. “Wow.”
She surprised herself by the admission since it was a persona crossing. Laura liked stock-car racing, not Mariel. It was a minor point, but she had never done that before. She opened the folder again. “Let’s talk about the informant. Gianni found him, is that correct?”
“Officially, yes.”
She looked at him curiously. “And unofficially?”
Shutting down again, he chose his words carefully. “Sanchez and I went for drinks one night. We drove by this house. Sanchez slowed a bit and checked it out. Not long after that, Gianni came in with the informant.”
“I’m not seeing the connection,” she said.
“A week or so later, Gianni brought me to the same house to do an initial interview with an informant for the raid.”
“Did Sanchez say anything about Gianni’s scooping his informant?”
Sinclair shook his head. “No. It was just a drive-by. I asked him what he was looking at, and he changed the subject.”
So Sanchez had apparently been one step ahead of Gianni. Sanchez had covered Crawford’s back when she needed him, and he hadn’t even known her. He must have been a good agent.
“What do you make of it?” she asked.
Sinclair hesitated. “I don’t know.”
A lie, she thought. “Come on, Sinclair. You’re a smart guy. You must have an opinion.”
He sighed. “It could be anything. Sanchez might have had the informant in his sights, and Gianni beat him to it.”
“You don’t believe that. Sanchez and Gianni would have said something to each other. You would have heard about it.”
He rubbed his hands on his thighs, nervousness going up a tick in his emotional state. “Okay, I think Sanchez knew something about the raid.”
“He was dirty.” She threw it at him as if it were fact.
No cop liked to implicate another in breaking the law, but Sinclair didn’t startle like she expected him to. “I didn’t say that.”
“But you’re thinking it. You think Sanchez was involved with whatever was going on at the apartment complex, and they took him out.”
Sinclair’s anger increased, but he did a good job of hiding it to outward appearances. “I’m not going to speculate about a dead cop.”
Laura decided to back off. She had her answer anyway. Sinclair thought Sanchez had been on the wrong side. “Okay. Let’s move on. What do you think of Agent Crawford?”
His expression became more neutral, and the anger subsided. “I think she’s in a tough spot and doesn’t deserve it.”
That was nice to hear. He meant it, too. “Do you blame her for Sanchez’s death?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“You seem sure.”
“She was doing the captain a favor. She almost got killed, and now she’s got vultures circling.”
“What do you mean?”
He met her eyes for several impressive seconds. “The bridge.”
Laura, or rather Janice, hadn’t reported the bridge incident. “What bridge?”
He smirked, but in a congenial way. “The incident on the Anacostia Bridge. Something like that happens, you hear things.”
Laura wondered what else he had heard. She returned his smirk. “We all do, Lieutenant Sinclair. Tell me about the Vault.”
His lack of surprise was the perfect reaction. “Obviously, you know I’ve done some side work there.”
“Describe it for me?”
“There’s not much to tell. It’s routine security work. A lot of politicians go there for meetings.”
“With whom?”
“Each other. Business types. There are a couple of private rooms in the club and in the offices upstairs. I’ve run security for meetings.”
“Have you ever met Tylo Blume?”
He nodded. “Twice. The night he offered me the first job and one other time, when I worked with Sanchez.”
“When was that?”
Sinclair pursed his lips. “About two weeks ago. A private meeting in one of the function rooms.”
This was new. “Did you know anyone at the meeting?”
She sensed Sinclair debating what to tell her or what not to tell her. “Blume. Some guys from the State Department. Senator Hornbeck. A congressman-I think his name is Lewis-and a few elves looked familiar. They didn’t speak English.”
“What was the meeting about?”
“I wasn’t in the room.”
“Where were you the night before last, Lieutenant?”
He didn’t miss the change in subject. “The Vault. With Gianni and Crawford, before you ask.”
She nodded. “Did you leave together?”
He shook his head. “Crawford left early. I followed her outside to make sure she was okay to drive. She was fine, so I went back inside. Gianni was gone, so I left.”
“Do you think Corman Deegan drinks too much?”
His startled expression at another change in direction amused her. “What?”
She watched him carefully, curious how he would react. “Your teammate. Do you think he drinks too much?”
Sinclair sighed as he thought about it. “I’ve seen him drink. I don’t know if it’s a problem. I’ve never seen it be a problem on the job.”
“You went drinking the night before
the raid,” she said.
“We didn’t go ‘drinking.’ We went for a couple of drinks, then home,” he said.
“Deegan seems to have had more than a couple.”
Sinclair paused. “He may have. I left after two drinks. He and Gianni stayed talking.”
“Do you think the raid would have fallen apart if Deegan had been there?”
He made a noncommittal gesture with his hand. “Too many variables to say. The intel was bad. Deegan’s good, but so was Sanchez. When the intel is bad, anything can happen.”
She sensed truth from him. He didn’t think Janice had screwed up. He knew the problem was the source of the information. “One last question, Lieutenant. When you heard Janice Crawford’s mayday, who reached the room first?”
“I don’t know. Foyle and Gianni were already there.”
That made three officers claiming they were the last to arrive. “Okay. Thank you, Lieutenant. Can you send in Agent Crawford if she is no longer delayed, please?”
Sinclair held his hand out. “It was a pleasure talking with you, Agent Tate.”
Laura smiled at the unexpected gesture. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”
She checked her PDA while waiting for Foyle to tell her that Janice Crawford was unavailable. Saffin had everything under control back at the office. Rhys’s office liked her changes to the speech and sent along the Guildmaster’s compliments. Resha Dunne had decided to attend Laura’s Senate hearing in the afternoon. Laura groaned at the thought. She knew he would try to hijack the proceedings to bolster his importance. Liam sent a message to Mariel Tate that her car would be waiting when she left the station house.
Foyle leaned into the room. “Agent Tate, I have to apologize, but Agent Crawford has not shown up and is unreachable.”
Feigning annoyance, Laura gathered her files. “I will deal with her through InterSec then. When she arrives, tell her to call my office for an appointment.”
Foyle accompanied her to the elevator. “Did everything go well?”
She watched the floor numbers counting down toward her. “They were acceptable initial meetings. I’ll review the other investigative reports and get back to you if need be.”
The elevator opened, and Laura stepped forward. Foyle touched her arm. She looked down at his hand, mildly surprised. “Agent Tate, I would appreciate it if you got back to me either way. I need answers.”
His tone was sincere and matched what Laura was sensing. “I will, Captain. We all want answers.”
A black car waited outside as planned. She didn’t know the driver, so she chanted a sound barrier around her. Guildhouse drivers were used to the behavior and didn’t consider it rude.
“Gianni shot me,” said Laura when Terryn answered her call.
“Your memory has returned?” Terryn didn’t sound surprised. He absorbed everything with a calm professionalism that sometimes irritated Laura. She wished he would scream in frustration just once in her presence. He and his clan had seen kingdoms rise and fall. A cop shooting another cop apparently didn’t faze him.
She noticed a brown shopping bag in the corner of the seat and pulled it toward her. Lunch from Liam. “No. I noticed that the mission reports were vague about when Foyle, Gianni, and Sinclair arrived at the room Sanchez and I were in. All three claim they arrived after the other two. Gianni was the only one who clearly registered as lying.”
“If he shot Sanchez, why didn’t he shoot you at the same time?”
Laura considered the scenario. “I don’t think he had a clear line of sight on me until I joined Sanchez. There was a firefight going on. Sanchez was shooting at the door right up to the end. Gianni would have had to take cover from both Sanchez and the drug dealers.”
“Should we pull him in?”
She withdrew a bottle of springwater from the bag. “Not yet. If we pull him in because I sensed he was lying, he’ll think I’m bluffing. I don’t want to tip my empathic ability.”
“He shot you, Laura. Are you comfortable with him getting away with that?”
Even if Terryn couldn’t see her, he had to notice the sly challenge in her voice. “Oh, he’s not going to get away with anything. I want to know why he shot me. I’m going to tail him personally.”
“Another job is the last thing you need. Let’s get a junior operative to tail him,” he said.
She took a swig of the water. “It’s all the same job, Terryn. Just the faces change.”
“Keep me updated,” he said.
“Will do.” She disconnected and removed a boxed lunch from the bag. Starving, she flipped it open. Two small rolled sandwiches of prosciutto with basil and thinly sliced provolone. A small cluster of french fries smelled of truffle oil. She was going to kill Liam for all the salt and starch. But she had asked for “wonderful.”
CHAPTER 13
THE BLACK CAR dropped Laura off a block from the Russell Senate Office Building. The building contained administrative offices and hearing rooms for the Senate as well as senator’s offices and committee rooms. The Senate was known as the world’s most exclusive men’s club, and a stroll through the corridors confirmed it. Laura had been around long enough to remember when senators were all male and women were their secretaries. High-profile secretaries but still secretaries. More women worked in the building than ever before, but men still held the power. Interns in the building joked that they always knew a women was a senator because she didn’t carry files.
Laura had been a sensation in those days. A woman with the power of the Guildhouse behind her demanded-and received-respect. When she was recruited by the forerunner of InterSec, she’d let go of a rising career as a diplomat and was happy to move into public relations for the Guild. She received the exposure to the politics she enjoyed, without the frustrations of all the political backstabbing. She still dealt with those, but it was not her primary job responsibility.
She ducked into an empty restroom. As she washed and dried her hands, she reabsorbed the essence out of the Mariel glamour. Mariel’s face shifted and faded as Laura Blackstone reappeared. She adjusted her outfit, fixed her hair, and made her way to the elevator.
Despite the surprise, Laura didn’t react when the elevator opened and she saw Sinclair standing inside. In the full car, Sinclair rose head and shoulders above the others. The crowd of people edged back to make room for her. Of course, she ended up standing next to him. They bumped and smiled courteously. His essence spiked surprise, too, though he had never met her as Laura Blackstone. He projected an undercurrent of pleasure. She stared down at her shoes trying not to think about it. His emotion shifted, an edge of concern coloring his interest. She wondered what he was thinking but avoided making eye contact.
The doors opened, and they bumped again as they moved to exit.
“Excuse me.” He stepped back to let her go first.
She smiled. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he said. It was. Even without the subtle emphasis he placed on the words, his attraction was evident. He paced a few feet behind her as she walked down the corridor. She resisted the urge to look back but became keenly aware of how she held herself.
When his essence receded behind her, she did look. As he entered a hearing room, her pleasure at his attention faded when the door closed. It was the room where Senator Hornbeck’s Fey Relations Committee was meeting. Confused but intrigued, she continued farther until she reached the hearing room for her fact-finding session on fey homeless shelters. Guildmaster Rhys considered the program one of his pet projects to enhance relations with the human population.
She stopped short. The hearing room was empty. A small sign on the open door announced the meeting had been canceled.
A young, earnest intern smiled at her. “Are you here for the meeting, ma’am?”
She glanced in the empty room again. “I was.”
“It’s being rescheduled for Tuesday. Are you Director Blackstone?”
Laura raised an eyebrow. “Yes.”
The
intern handed her a note. “You were the only person we couldn’t reach. I was asked to give this to you.”
In a narrow spidery handwriting it read:
It’s a shame you won’t be able to speak publicly today. It’s unfortunate that you didn’t get the message. I would be flattered if you attended my committee meeting since you have an opening in your schedule.
It was signed S. Hornbeck.
Laura’s PDA vibrated. Despite the desire to, she didn’t crumple the paper. I got the message, you old fox, she thought. She pulled out her cell as she checked the PDA. An urgent message from Saffin flashed:
UR MTG CNCLD, CLL ME!!!
“Did you get my message?” Saffin asked when she answered the cell.
“Just now. What happened?” she asked.
“I’m so sorry. I just got it myself. Everyone canceled.”
“Everyone?”
“Yes. At the last minute, too. All of them. Maybe they went to a party and didn’t invite you,” Saffin said.
Laura glanced up the hall at the closed door to Hornbeck’s conference. “That’s okay. I’ve been invited to my own party.”
Saffin groaned. “It was Hornbeck, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. I was angry a second ago, but now I’m amused. I had to talk to him anyway. Don’t worry about it, Saf. It’s rescheduled for next Tuesday.”
“That’s the day I was going to take off. Do you want me to come in if you’re going to be there?”
“No. If we’re both out, then people will have to figure things out for themselves.”
Saffin chuckled. “This is why I like working for you.”
“I’ll let you know how it goes.” She disconnected.
She retraced her path down the corridor to Hornbeck’s hearing room. She entered with a pleasant expression fixed on her face. If she had learned one thing after decades of dealings with politicians, it was that the moment she lost her cool, she lost an argument. Besides, she had to admit that Hornbeck’s maneuver was nicely played. He’d disrupted her schedule, demonstrated some political muscle to do it, and gotten extra kicks with an innocently worded sarcastic note.
Laura found a seat near the rear of the crowded room. Hornbeck sat front and center. Six other senators sat on his committee, though only four of them were present. Hornbeck’s eyes flicked toward Laura when she crossed her legs in the aisle. Saffin was right about the red scarf and, given the shift in the direction of Hornbeck’s eyes, the legs. Hornbeck presided over the room, a reassuring senatorial image with his tousled white hair and masculine face. His family came from old Midwestern stock, the moneyed kind, and it showed in his dress and bearing. He was a man accustomed to control and getting his way. He was also on the right side of enough controversial issues to irritate both political parties and win reelection four times.
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