by J. L. Brown
“Agent Harrington?”
Jade nodded.
“John O’Shaunessy. I spoke to you on the phone.”
As they shook hands, Jade gave him the once-over. This man had played professional football, or at least tried.
He acknowledged her appraisal. “Yep. Spent five years in the league. Defensive tackle for the Eagles.”
“I thought so!” Christian said.
By the extended belly and the broken capillaries on his nose, Jade guessed he spent more time these days chasing pints of Guinness with shots than chasing running backs. She introduced Christian and Max.
Detective O’Shaunessy led them over to the drive-thru microphone. “The victim ordered her drink right before it happened. The employee who took her order asked her to come to the window a few times. When the victim didn’t respond or move, the employee told his manager. The manager had already received complaints from drive-thru customers who had come inside the store to order. Other customers came inside when the victim’s horn went off. None of the customers in line bothered to check out what was going on in her car. They needed their caffeine, I guess. The manager came out and found the victim’s head on the steering wheel. The horn, still blaring. She saw blood everywhere and ran back into the store to call us.”
Jade scanned the surroundings. “This happened at what time?”
“About four-thirty p.m.”
“So, it was still daylight,” Jade said. “With no trees or anything else around, how come no one saw the UNSUB?”
“The teenage girl in the car behind the victim observed her ordering, but began texting with a friend and stopped paying attention. She looked up when the horn started going off. She thought she saw a guy walking away, but couldn’t be sure. There were cars behind her so she couldn’t back up. She began taking selfies and Snapchatting her story that she was stuck in a line at Starbucks, but didn’t think to get out of the car to find out why.”
“No one else in line witnessed anything?” Jade asked.
“They were all on their cell phones,” O’Shaunessy said.
“Unbelievable,” Christian said.
“Not really,” O’Shaunessy said. “How many times do you go to a restaurant and most of the customers are staring at their phones? Bus stops? Coffee shops? People would rather communicate with anyone else besides the people they’re with.”
“How did the UNSUB know Holder would be here?” Jade asked.
“The victim came to this Starbucks every day at about the same time. Ordered the same thing. She was running a little late yesterday, though.”
“Any evidence?” Christian asked.
“We lifted a shoeprint over there,” O’Shaunessy said, pointing toward a grassy median that separated the Starbucks from a nearby Wendy’s. They walked over to where he had pointed.
Jade crouched for a closer view. “Pretty big feet. He was walking away from the car. Someone must have seen him at the Wendy’s. Any results back, yet, on the shoeprint?”
O’Shaunessy shook his head. “Seen enough?”
Jade glanced at Christian and Max. Max held her gaze, but said nothing.
As he walked them back toward the car, Jade asked, “Have you interviewed her co-workers? Any enemies? Any threats?”
O’Shaunessy nodded. “We’re in the process of doing that now.”
“And?”
“Our problem isn’t determining whether she had any enemies. It’s narrowing down the list.”
CHAPTER SIXTY
Bethesda, Maryland
Cole Brennan relaxed with his wife and six children in their family room. He loved the term “family room.” How appropriate.
He took a sip of his drink. Cole was stressed. Between the election next week, Liz Holder’s murder, and someone wanting him dead, he had about all the anxiety he could take. Not to mention trying to save this damn country from the Socialists.
Was it worth it? Was saving the country worth risking his life? Maybe he should give the Democrats what they want. Atlas Shrugged them. When the nation drowned from runaway debt, twenty-five percent unemployment, loss of morals, and lost its superpower status, would the liberals be happy? The US would become the Great Britain of the twenty-first century—the former superpower of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, now reduced to being the obedient lap dog of the United States. The US, however, would be licking Chinese boots. Boots Made in China.
He laughed out loud.
His daughter, Kaitlin, raised an eyebrow. “What’s so funny, Dad?”
“Nothing, sweetheart.”
“You’re doing it again, Dad. This is supposed to be family time.”
He smiled at her. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
His son, Ryan, came to stand before him. “Dad, guess what!”
“What, Sport?”
“I scored today!”
“You did? Wow! I wish I could’ve been there. I had to work late. That’s awesome. High-five!” Cole reached his arm out to his son.
Cole Jr. groaned. “Dad, high-fiving is so out.”
Cole retracted his arm. “Oh?”
“Try a fist bump,” Cole Jr. suggested.
“That’s okay, Dad,” Ryan said. “Wait! I forgot to show you something!” He sprinted out of the room.
The running and yelling would annoy a lesser man, but Cole loved it. He wasn’t a lesser man.
Ryan returned carrying a soccer ball.
Cole gazed into his son’s beaming face. This face was what he was fighting for. “What do you have there, Sport?”
Ryan offered the ball to him, as if it were a Fabergé egg. “One of the dads gave this to me for scoring a goal!”
“Wow! That was nice of him.”
Cole spun the blue and white soccer ball in his hands. In one of the white panels, the letters “TSK” were scrawled in black magic marker.
Pain tore through his stomach and his hands started to shake.
Cole dropped the ball.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Arlington, Virginia
Jade entered Won Ho’s Tae Kwon Do Academy, which was located a few miles from her house. She was dressed in a gray sleeveless sweatshirt and black workout tights. Master Ho had given her a key.
The place was empty at this time of night, as it should have been. She went through the small lobby and performed a slight bow before entering the dojang (school), not caring whether anyone else was present to ensure she obeyed the rules. She placed her gear bag against the wall and ran some laps and stretched to warm up.
Master Ho entered the dojang and walked over to her. She jumped to her feet, and they bowed to each other. Bowing in Tae Kwon Do was a sign of respect. She bowed to show respect for her instructor, the art, and herself.
“Good to see you, Ms. Harrington. It’s been a long time.”
“I’ve been a little busy, sir. I didn’t think anyone would be here.”
He shook his head. “Paperwork. Always paperwork.”
“Do you mind if I work out?”
“Not at all. I’ll come out and spar with you in a little while.”
Jade gazed down on his short-cropped silver hair. As a fourth-degree black belt, she didn’t require an instructor to work out with her.
“You don’t have to, sir. I know it’s late.”
He shot her a look and left.
She started off doing poomsae (forms). She loved performing the predetermined patterns of movement, kicks, punches, and blocks, and the concentration, strength, coordination, and flexibility required to do them well. She tried to execute the form for her rank better each time, competing with no one but herself.
Master Ho returned twenty minutes later in his sparring gear. She ran to her bag and put on her gear and moved to the middle of the mat. They bowed to each other again.
She went into her sparring stance and—
He kicked her in the head with a round kick.
Although over sixty years old, Master Ho had the physique of a man twenty
years younger. He could still fight. Despite the headgear, the kick stung. A lot. While her head rang, she spun and landed a side kick in his kidney. He grunted and nodded, pleased. Counterattacking was the key to being a good fighter.
They exchanged punches and kicks until Jade punched him, hard. But missed.
“Damn it!” She took off her headgear and slammed it to the mat. The gear rolled away from them.
Master Ho walked over, picked it up, and returned it to her. He stared into her eyes.
“A good fighter never loses control. You cannot control every situation, but you can always control your body and your mind.” He pointed to his temple. “The circumstance is not of consequence, but how you react to it is. Being still and doing nothing are two very different things.”
She nodded her head, then stopped. “Wait . . . isn’t that a line from The Karate Kid?”
The lines around his eyes twinkled. “No one can be endowed with all wisdom.” He stared into her eyes, as if trying to see into her soul. “Ms. Harrington, trust your training.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” She bowed.
Master Ho bowed. He hesitated before touching her shoulder, a brief yet comforting gesture. He nodded and left.
Jade had never noticed physical affection from him to her or any of his students. She stood there for a moment, assuring herself it had happened before splaying out on the floor and removing her gear. She stuffed all of it into her bag. Crossing her legs Indian-style, she closed her eyes.
For years, Zoe had tried to interest her in Zen Buddhism and meditation. At first, Jade didn’t care much for the meditational aspect of Tae Kwon Do. She would rather hit people.
She focused her mind on her breathing. In, out. In, out. In, out. As often happened when her mind was quiet and her body stilled, thoughts of the past came forward unbeckoned. Growing up as an Army brat, the only mixed-race kid in her neighborhood, and a bullying victim made for a lonely childhood. She had thought then she was the only person in the world who lived like that. Besides Zoe, she had never had any friends. What was the point when her family could move away at any time? She felt disconnected from others. No one got her. Or she didn’t get them. Now, she preferred to be alone. She had a greater connection to athletes or actors on television than people in the real world.
Jade had no time or need for romance. Never did. After three years of playing professionally in the WNBA and overseas in Japan, she started later than other agents at the Academy. She not only had to catch up, but she had to be better. Her work was her love. Being the best, her mission.
She did not have time for Landon Phillips.
Several thoughts swirled around in her head at once: the killer, the leaks, the slow progress of the investigation, all interwoven with pictures of the victims adorning the walls of the conference room at the Bureau.
After fifteen minutes, she gave up, realizing the meditation had failed to calm her mind. Or, maybe, she failed to let it. She opened her eyes and studied herself in the full-length wall mirror. She looked away.
She toweled off her face, stood, and started to zip her bag. Her phone indicated she had received a text message. She snatched it out of the bag.
Christian had texted an address and told her to meet him first thing in the morning.
TSK had sent Cole Brennan a gift.
*
Early the next morning, Jade knocked on a massive red door. She had already rung the bell. The door swung open to the big man himself.
“Mr. Brennan, I’m Special Agent Jade Harrington and this is Special Agent Christian Merritt. We’d like to talk to you about the soccer ball your son received. May we come in?”
Cole Brennan’s eyes did a quick survey of her body before moving aside. “Come on in.”
She stepped into the foyer and marveled at the two curved staircases with black iron railing that led upstairs. Brennan led them toward the back of the house. She stopped at the door to a large room. Inside, chaos. She had heard he had six kids, but now she knew it. A woman sat on the sofa, her smile vacant, the skin around her eyes tight.
“This is my wife, Ashley. Ash, this is Agent Merritt and Jade.”
“Agent Harrington,” Jade corrected, shaking Ashley’s hand.
Brennan addressed the room at large.
“Kids, these are our friends. We’re going to go chat with them.”
The younger children paid little attention and continued to play. Not fooled, the teenagers eyed Jade and Christian from their spots on the floor in front of the TV.
“Follow me,” Brennan said.
He led them to a room off the great room. His home office. He waved for them to sit as he settled into a leather chair behind the grand desk. He nodded to his wife to close the door. She came up and stood beside him, placing her hand on his shoulder.
Brennan’s demeanor changed as soon as the door closed, his face darkening.
“What are you doing to catch this liberal freak? He talked to my son!”
Ashley pressed down on his shoulder. “Keep your voice down, sweetheart.”
Brennan ignored her. To Christian, “Are you any closer to catching this guy?”
Jade stared at Brennan waiting for him to turn to her. He didn’t.
“Mr. Brennan,” Jade said. “First, we need to make sure it’s him. We’re pursuing several leads. We had the soccer ball dusted for prints. The only prints on it were yours and your son’s.”
Brennan addressed Christian.
“Of course, it’s him. TSK. The other parents don’t hate me enough to play a joke like that.” He paused. “I don’t think. What are you doing to protect my family?”
Christian pointed at Jade, his eyes not leaving Brennan’s.
“She’s the boss, sir.”
Brennan sighed and faced her as if it were painful.
“Your house is under surveillance,” Jade said, “and agents are covering your office building. We’re shadowing all of you to the best of our ability with the limited resources we have.”
“Typical. The FBI is a stupid and useless government agency that should be eliminated.”
Jade stood. “Then, we should be going. I trust you can find someone else to protect you and your family and to catch this killer. Good day.”
She eyed Christian and they both moved toward the door.
“Wait! Come back!”
Jade paused.
Brennan gestured to the chair. “Sorry. Please sit. I’m just stressed out.”
After Jade resettled in her seat, she looked past him. “Mrs. Brennan, may we talk to your son?”
Cole Brennan, stunned at the rebuff, glanced over his shoulder at his wife. She gazed at him. He nodded absently and she left.
“Mr. Brennan, have you received any suspicious calls lately? At work or home?”
“I don’t think so. Socialists know better than to call me.”
Jade eyed Christian again, willing herself not to roll her eyes.
Ashley came in with a young boy. Christian stood and moved to the credenza underneath the window, leaning against it. Jade smiled at the boy, patting the chair Christian vacated.
“Hi, there. Why don’t you sit next to me?”
The child looked at his mother and she nodded. He sat.
“What’s your name?” Jade asked.
“Ryan!”
“How old are you, Ryan?”
“I just turned seven!”
“So, you like soccer?”
Ryan’s face broke out into a grin. “Yeah!”
Jade flinched, not sure why he was yelling. She glanced at Christian, who was trying not to laugh.
“I played soccer, too.”
“It’s so much fun!”
“I think so, too.” She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. In a soothing voice, she said, “Tell me about the man who gave you the soccer ball.”
“After the game, he told me ‘Awesome goal!’ and he said, ‘Here’s a present for scoring.’”
“Can y
ou tell me what he looked like?”
Ryan thought for a moment.
“He was tall.”
“Do you remember anything else, Ryan? Anything at all?”
Ryan scrunched up his face, deep in thought. “No, that’s it.” After another moment, “Wait!”
“What? What do you remember?”
Ryan tilted his head to the side. “He was skinny. Not fat, like my daddy.”
*
The October air was cool, the leaves beginning to change color. After the interview, they had spoken to the agent in charge of Cole Brennan’s security detail. Now, Jade and Christian walked the perimeter of his home, checking on security.
Christian surveyed the property as they walked. “Did you check out the wife?”
“Yes.”
“She was creepy. With that plastic smile and those glassy eyes, and how she stared straight ahead, it was almost as if she were—”
“A Stepford wife.”
“Yes!”
The leaves crunched underneath their feet.
Christian smiled at her. “He sure doesn’t hold back, does he? Everyone’s a Socialist. He wants to eliminate the FBI.”
Jade shook her head. “It’s no wonder someone wants to kill him.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Cole Brennan stood at the podium. He scanned the auditorium audience, the place packed, expectant faces waiting for him to begin. Wearing a white dress shirt opened at the collar and tan slacks, he was sweating under the lights. It didn’t help that the shirt felt a little snug after fitting only a few months ago.
He didn’t feel right being here. He should have stayed home, to be there for his family. But he had made a commitment. And this election was too important.
Cole began to speak.
“We had our only presidential debate last week. Today, I want to provide answers to our most pressing problems for which there is no debate. You see, politicians tend to fill their speeches with highfalutin ideas and beautiful prose. I want to talk about the specific common-sense things I would do if I were president of this great country.” He paused and smiled. “But don’t get any ideas, folks!” He waited for the laughter to die down.
