Sworn to Protect

by A K August

  Back at Anthony's, Annie and I laughed at Tedd's expense. "After he came back, it was so hard to sit there, not just because the drive was burning a hole in my pocket but because he couldn't look me in the eye and when he concluded that he'd found an error and fixed the VPN he practically pushed me and my machine out the door."

  Annie chuckled from the desk as she scrolled through the files I got and sorted them. "We've got a lot of payroll stubs and HR notations, some vacation requests. I'm dumping those in a file called HR; it may be worth looking at the notation files later, see if he was reprimanded, etc. He got a pay stub last week, so he's still around unless they just fired him.

  "What's interesting are these other files. Project files."

  I pulled up a chair and read over Annie's shoulder. "These are weird projects, Annie. The client ID is listed only as a number. That's not how we usually do it; the client's name is an abbreviation of their company name, something about five to seven letters, and never numbers; usually, they remove the vowels to create it. All files, especially invoices, must include the client's ID."

  "Katie, I thought Criterion was a communications company—PR, advertising."

  "Yeah, a lot of lobbying as well. Why?"

  "These projects reference physical assets, construction projects, supplies, transportation of assets."

  I shook my head. I had no idea that Criterion had another arm of the company. A division connected to Dwyer; his name was all over these files. Either he created them, or was mentioned in the communications, or assigned to follow up on questions or issues. According to these files, Scott Dwyer was not just a security guard at Criterion. He was high up in the structure of this hidden division.

  "Katie? Anthony has a connection to Senator Hart?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Hart's name is all over these files too. There are notes about appropriations going back years. Emails between Criterion and companies like Education for America, For the Greater Good, and Our Children First. They all mention Hart."

  I googled Education for America; it was a non-profit, raising money to increase public school funding; same for Our Children First. For the Greater Good covered a broader platform, aimed at funding education, reducing taxes, increased military being a few.

  "They're Super PAC's. Probably give money to the Senator's campaign. He's always been a strong supporter of the public school system."

  "But he's retiring after this term, right? Didn't he announce that a while back? Why would they have confirmed a one million contribution to his campaign five weeks ago?"

  I buried my head in my hands. "I don't know, Annie. This just gets more confusing."

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ANTHONY

  I thought over the plan on the drive home; or lack of a plan. Topher could help; he wanted twenty-four hours to look into Criterion and put feelers out on Dwyer's location. Missy would check in with her sources, see if there was anything new on Criterion. Her hands were tied as far as using CIA resources but said she'd suit up if we needed her as back up. The hope being we'd have leads to follow up within a day. Until then, there wasn't anything I could do.

  As I got closer to DC, I had a hard time maintaining my speed. I needed to see Katie, reassure myself she was okay then catch her up on everything that happened today. I opened the door to the smell of fresh paint. Katie must have started on the guest rooms upstairs. The house is quiet; usually Katie likes music when she paints, but it's late; she may have gone to bed. I drop my messenger bag and kick off my shoes, eager to crawl into bed and feel Katie's warm body pressed to mine.

  Coming around the corner, the master room door is ajar, and I nudge it a touch, just enough so I can squeeze through, hoping the door doesn't squeak and wake her up.

  I should oil that hinge this weekend.

  The curtains are open, the glow from the moon illuminating an empty bed. A surge of panic tries to flood my senses, but I push it down. She's here, I tell myself, maybe at her computer.

  I run to the dark den, the monitors off; the room still. My gaze jumps to the French doors thinking she might be sitting outside, enjoying the cooler temperatures the night air has brought with it. The backyard is empty, as are the kitchen, bathrooms and guest rooms. My eyes linger on the tray of paint sitting on the floor full of the sunny yellow we'd chosen for this room. Katie would never leave it like this.

  She hates wasting paint as much as she hates when the paint dries in the tray, then you have to use liners or risk the colors mixing the next time you want to use the tray. She's always meticulous in cleaning up. My gut churns and clenches, but I force myself to take in the whole scene. What happened here?

  She started the project; everything was away from the wall, crowding the center of the room; she'd swept and dusted the ledges, making sure the walls were clean and primed. She'd taped off part of the room, but I could see where she'd stopped, leaving the half roll of painters tape perched on the window ledge. Something pulled her focus.

  A box. It had been under the bed and exposed when she pulled the bed away from the wall. The box was open and I pulled the flap back to reveal pictures. I remember this box. It was full of photos from high school through the military and college. I'd had a few group photos framed, and they'd hung on the wall in my studio apartment. One of the only things I'd done to personalize that space. It reminded me I wasn't alone, even though I felt more alone every time I came back from an undercover assignment.

  I flipped through some of the photos, distracted for a moment. These would be good to hang in the den. Two frames look liked they'd been pulled out then partially stuffed back into the box. One was from the last day of DELTA training, the four graduates: Caplan, Missy, me, and… Scott Dwyer. We all looked so happy, raring to take on the enemy. The other picture was my college friends, end of our sophomore year, celebrating at the TapRoom. We were all smiling – Mark Tennyson's arm draped over my shoulder. That had been a good night, long and drunken, fun. But I saw it through different eyes now, wizened to the extreme nature of Tennyson's personality. He had big dreams and no one was going to stand in his way.

  How far was he willing to go to achieve his dreams?

  I put the pictures back and finished my perusal of the room. Nothing else looked out of place; nothing turned over as if a struggle ensued. I could only assume that Katie heard something and left the room to check it out. I turned around and walked back to the hall. Everything here was orderly; she must have gone downstairs. I went back through the rooms, looking for any sign of what happened as I texted Topher on the burn phone he'd given me before we parted company.

  Wahoo: Witness missing.

  Lee: Clues?

  Wahoo: None.

  Inside I was panicking. I wanted to call Mark and demand to know where he'd taken Katie. I was sure he and Dwyer were together on this. I sat in Katie's chair at her desk in the den and didn't know what to do. It was her desk now. Her imprint was all over it; how she'd arranged the monitors and chair height to ergonomically work for her. My larger build towered over the desk; the binders and files she kept on a skinny table behind her, the tallest to shortest neatly organized. She'd lined up the stack of post-it notes from the biggest to the smallest in perfect rows.

  Everything as she liked it.

  And I liked that she claimed this space, liked she claimed my heart. She could claim this whole damn house. I just needed to find her and bring her home.

  My laptop was off to the side and closed. I looked to the left where Katie kept her computer plugged-in. The cables were there, but the machine wasn't. Had they taken her laptop? Why? The video of Colby's murder was already with the FBI.

  I thought more about her computer. What's the significance? My head swiveled back to my laptop. Why take hers and not mine? If they wanted to contain the information, they'd take both.

  I ran to the front door and examined the lock—no signs of tampering. If someone got in the house, Katie wouldn't go quietly, yet nothing was tipped over, no signs of a
struggle. It was clear. Katie left the house willingly. But why?

  Wahoo: I'm going to stake out M.

  Lee: Not wise. Don't tip hand.

  Lee: Wash on it.

  I wanted to scream. Topher was right. I couldn't sit on Mark's house without someone seeing me. Mark thought I just stumbled on Dwyer, but not if I showed up at his home. Especially knowing Katie wasn't forced out of the house, she'd left on her own or with someone she trusted.

  Annie! She'd go to her best friend.

  A knock on my door had me pulling my service weapon and crouching in the kitchen doorframe. I sank to the floor and peered around the corner. Whoever it was stood square in the door, didn't try to hide or minimize their profile.

  Probably not an enemy.

  They knocked again, followed by calling out to me. "Anthony, I know you're in there. Open up."

  Missy.

  I kept hold of my weapon but aimed it toward the floor, tucking my hand behind my leg. I trusted Missy, but in case she was being coerced, I wanted to be ready. I pulled the door open slightly and Missy smiled.

  "I heard. Can I take a look around?"

  We stood there for another minute before I swung the door open and Missy stepped inside, closing it behind her. I let out a breath and holstered my gun.

  "Any idea of what happened?"

  I shook my head. "I think she left on her own, just not sure if she was alone."

  "Why would she leave?"

  "That's what I don't know. But there are no signs of trouble, her computer's gone, and she left in the middle of painting a room. She'd never do that – she lectured me for half an hour the first time we painted when I wanted to leave clean up to the morning. It's a pet peeve, not completing what you start."

  Missy looked at me with a huge grin. "You didn't mention you were in love with this girl."

  "It didn't seem relevant." I shrugged, not denying her observation. I pulled a couple of beers from the fridge and handed one to Missy.

  "And now?" she asked as she took a swig of beer.

  "Only so far that I'm emotionally vested, so I know I may not be as rational in my decision-making, but I'm not sitting this out. She's the one, Miss. I can't imagine my life without her." I brought the beer up to my lips and tipped my head back, using the drink as cover for my eyes tearing.

  A ding came through Missy's phone. She checked it, typed a reply then passed the phone to me.

  Lee: Pinged the phone, nothing.

  Wash: Standing by.

  I chuckled as I handed the phone back to Missy. "When did you let Topher start calling you Washington? I thought you hated the nickname?"

  She smiled. "I did. I do. He likes to compare my upbringing to Washington whenever he can. Always seems to find something new. The more irritated I get, the more he pushes. So I figure I give in, accept it, maybe it'll die off, he'll find something new. Nope. He hangs on like an eagle during a typhoon. So I push back, compare him to Lee. Bastard loves it!" She harrumphs before taking another drink.

  I laugh but notice beneath her protests there's something else. Then I think back to earlier that night, walking into the Fireside, the cozy couple, enjoying a drink at the end of their day. Sure they were playing a role, but perhaps it was less acting on Missy's part. Missy's phone dings before I can ask.

  Missy puts Topher on speakerphone and he jumps in before Missy can say anything. "We're into the system and sorting. Need seven to build the house right." I can hear a cacophony of computer keys in the background. It reminds me of the song, Flight of the Bumblebees, from a Russian opera where the Tsar's son is turned into an insect so he can escape his evil stepfather. It's just a staccato, chaotic rhythm designed to sound like a swarm of bees as they shift and fly. It's oddly unsettling and humorous at the same time.

  I'm shaking my head. Seven. Topher needs seven days to find the information and build a case to take these guys down. Katie is gone, I don't know how many hours, but even if she's not with Dwyer or Tennyson now, they'll find her soon and I won't be there to protect her. "We don't have seven."

  Topher sounded grim. "I'll do what I can. Hold for twenty-four and see where we're at."

  "Okay," I replied. Like I have any choice. I went to Topher because I had nowhere else to turn. I wasn't going to be able to sit still for twenty-four hours, however. "How can I help?"

  "Go to work."

  I sighed heavily. "Okay."

  Missy hung up. "He's right. You can't dip into this at the FBI yet, at least not until we know more. I'll see what I can quietly do at the office in the morning, but you need to act normal, just another day. Don't reach out to Tennyson, but if he calls, play buddy-buddy. We can't have him panicking."

  I held it together the next day until I bumped into Jeff.

  "Is everything okay at home?"

  My head snapped to his. Is he fishing or just inquiring because we both know the investigation has gone on much longer than anticipated? He could be thinking that Katie was getting jumpy and wondered how I handled that issue. I'm on edge, suspecting everyone and everything. I try to stay calm. "Yeah. It's good. Antsy but dealing."

  Jeff pursed his lips. "Things may need to change. The investigation has stalled. I don't know how much longer we can keep it open."

  "What's the alternative?" My mind was racing. Jeff was suggesting he needed to close the case, make it a cold file, unsolvable. If that happened, then we couldn't keep Katie in protective custody. "Witsec?"

  I was asking if Katie could go into Witness Protection, get a new identity, and stay hidden from the killer. Jeff's forlorn expression gave me the answer.

  "That's not right," I told him before turning and going back to my desk. I had a day, maybe two if I was lucky before Jeff pulled the plug. If Katie was at my house, I could have the conversation with her, tell her I was officially not protecting her as an FBI agent, but I cared for her and wanted her to stay with me so that I could protect her as her friend, her lover, her partner.

  But she wasn't at my house. I currently didn't know where she was. I went to her friend Annie's apartment early that morning. Annie wasn't surprised to see me, so she had to know Katie had left, but she wouldn't give me any information. Annie's apartment was small, and it didn't look like Katie was hiding there.

  "If you hear from Katie, please tell her I'm worried about her, just want to make sure she's safe."

  Annie nodded and closed the door on me.

  ◆◆◆

  I relayed my conversation with Jeff to Topher when we spoke that evening. If Jeff closed the case properly, he'd have to update the file to include where Katie had been staying and who was the protective agent assigned. I would need to do a debriefing on everything that had happened while she was under my protection. That would all be loaded to the FBI servers and immediately passed on to Criterion by the mole. I could stall on my report, but just my name getting linked would send everyone to my door.

  "The clock is ticking. How're things on your end?"

  "A lot of information. We are trying to discard all the unrelated content and narrow our search. We're moving as fast as we can."

  "I know. Thanks. Keep me posted."

  I hang up, frustrated. I'd been masking my fear for Katie, at work, to Jeff, even on the phone to Topher. If he heard the panic in my voice, he'd distance me from his progress, assume I'd jump the gun, or put his team at risk. I didn't want to believe I would do that, but I knew I wasn't thinking clearly. Missy had probably told Topher I was in love with Katie, but as long as I held it together in front of him, he'd let me be a part of this.

  Meanwhile, I was missing Katie. Last night I was consumed by my fear for her. Where was she? Was she safe? Why did she leave? Why hadn't she told me where she was going or called me to let me know she was okay?

  I didn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I'd picture Katie in Dwyer's clutches. I'd let myself be vulnerable in front of Annie, hoping she'd take pity on me and at least ask Katie to call.

  Now I had nothing I c
ould do to help. Beyond being scared for Katie, I was scared to lose her. I just want to hold her, weld her to my side so she couldn't disappear from me again. I needed her.

  I sat on the floor in my guest room, staring at the half painted wall. "Katie, please be safe," I whispered, hoping the gods would hear and protect her until I could get there.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  KATIE

  Annie and I put all the research skills between us to the test and connected many of the dots. The most damning proof had come from Anthony's house.

  We'd exhausted all the Internet searching we could think of and perused the mound of paper we'd collected three times before I decided I needed a break, I needed to reset my brain and give it time to catch up. I focused on painting the guest room. I'd picked out a soft yellow that changed with the amount of sunlight passing through the room. Sometimes it had a subtle calm tone, like early in the day when the pinkish light from dawn bounced off the walls. In the afternoon, it would be brighter, happier, bouquets of yellow tulips filling the space, then the warm afternoon sun filled the room like buttered popcorn, soothing, settling in for the night. At least that's how I sold it to Anthony.

  Anthony.

  I wish I knew why he lied to me. I didn't believe he wanted to cause me harm. He couldn't have known Dwyer was involved before we saw his face on the video. That was a surprise; Anthony wouldn't have let me go searching for the killer's face if he'd already known. So now he was looking to find his friend. What would he do? Confront him? Arrest him? Cover for him? I thought I knew Anthony, but then I also thought he and I were honest with each other.

  "Damn you, Anthony!" I growled as I pour the paint into the tray.

  He was still skeptical about this color but yielded to my excitement and said if it weren't as described, I would pay for bringing yellow into his house. How I'd pay he hadn't elaborated, but I had a feeling the reward for choosing the perfect color would be similar, much like the winner claiming his prize. My body heated with thoughts on my punishment/reward.