by Ivy Nelson
He stared at the phone, dazed for a moment. She was tiresome and delightful all at the same time. He slipped the microchip out of his pocket and put it in the slot on his phone.
It was probably more secure on his company phone, but he wasn’t sure who to trust just yet and his boss had already told him to tread lightly when it came to Corbit Upwood.
Opening the folder, it was clear it would take a long time to sift through everything on it, so he quickly opened the plain text document that was first on the list.
Just as he suspected, there was an address. It was a rest area just outside D.C. The next document outlined a travel timeline for someone. It took a few minutes to pinpoint that it was a list of places Corbit Upwood had been. Next to each trip was a name. Were these the girls that had gone missing? Was this person saying Corbit had something to do with the disappearances? It seemed like a stretch.
This was going to require some pretty deep digging. Was Corbit Upwood part of a sex trafficking ring? Just a few weeks ago, he had testified at a senate hearing about the trafficking rings the CIA had a hand in breaking thanks to their intelligence gathering. It was his mission to get an anti-trafficking bill passed. Or so he had said.
Peter always knew he was a pervert but to go as far as trafficking women into forced sex work? That would sicken him.
His mind drifted back to the visit to the Doll House Upwood had insisted on making. He swore it was to meet an asset, but Peter didn’t buy it. The CIA Director rarely actually did things like meet assets or do field work. Upwood had claimed he was a hands-on kind of director and there wasn’t much Peter could argue about.
Then when they arrived and he discovered that he was meeting Dino Carranza, Peter just assumed Upwood had manipulated him so he could meet with the man they had refused to let him see.
Now he wondered if the meeting had to do with something illegal. Dino had struck him as oddly familiar, but Peter couldn’t place him, and he just chalked it up to the years he spent running down drug cartels. Dino Carranza had a stereotypical bad guy look about him. That didn’t mean he was a criminal though.
There were a lot more questions than answers, but he had to do his job and set this aside. He was going to keep a closer eye on the director for suspicious activity though.
His experience told him not to put faith in whistle-blowers and reporters, but there was something about this that had credibility and was screaming for him to pay attention.
As he was putting his phone away, Director Higgins approached his desk.
“Agent Mercer, I see you’re enjoying the wonderful task of paperwork that comes with being in charge.”
Peter grinned. “Yes, Sir. It’s a real thrill.”
“You’re doing good work with the Upwood assignment. He seems as happy as one can be about a secret service detail and your men respect you.”
Peter’s heart swelled. “I’m glad to hear it, Sir. We have a solid team in place. What can I do for you?”
His boss perched on the corner of his desk.
“I have two more field office positions opening in a few months. By then, this thing with Upwood will be wrapped up. How do you feel about Colorado or Los Angeles?”
“That’s pretty far from D.C. but I’m certainly not against moving, Sir.”
Higgins nodded. “Well keep up the good work and you can pick the office you want when this is over.”
“Really Sir? I appreciate that.”
Higgins stood and then leaned on the desk, his palms flat on the surface, bending at the waist so he was closer to Peter.
“You’ve earned it, I just need for you to not rock the boat with Director Upwood. He’s a powerful man. Let’s keep him happy and you’ll be headed in a good direction in your career.”
Suddenly Peter wasn’t feeling so thrilled with the prospect of getting the promotion he had just been offered.
The less than subtle threat in his boss’s voice did not go unnoticed. This was another warning not to investigate Upwood.
He would keep doing his job, but he had no doubt that he was being threatened with the loss of his job if he rocked the boat.
It was the kind of threat that made him want to do just that.
• • •
“How would you like to get out of there for a bit?”
Peter sat in his SUV outside of the Washington Post and had just called Carrie.
“Are you serious? You’re not teasing me?”
“Nope. I’m out front. How quick can you get out here?”
He pulled the phone away from his ear when she squealed.
“I’m on my way.”
The line went dead, and Peter stared at his screen. The girl was a ball of energy that couldn’t be contained.
Two minutes later, Carrie exited the building at a full run and hopped into his SUV.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
He tossed her his personal cell which had the microchip in it.
“I found a chip inside the picture of the picnic table. Turns out it was a drop point signal. It means your asset doesn’t want to use the mail system anymore. He’ll start putting packages there instead. I thought we would go check it out.”
Carrie stared at him confused.
“Asset? How do you know where the picnic table is?”
“Sorry. Assets are what we called tipsters or informants in the CIA. And the address was on the chip,” he said with a wink before reaching over to take his phone back. She pulled it out of his reach.
“I want to see what else is on here. This looks like travel records for someone and these names match up with the missing girls.”
She had picked that up a lot faster than he had and he was the former spy, he thought with irritation.
“Bingo. I’m pretty sure the travel records are for Upwood. The second sheet may be for Carranza, but I haven’t figured it out yet.”
Carrie was silent for the rest of the drive as she flipped through the rest of the documents. One knee bounced up and down as she read, and every once in a while she would gasp or whistle. Clearly, they made more sense to her than they had him at a first glance, so he was glad he had let her look through them.
“Wait a minute,” she said as they pulled into the rest area. “I thought you were stuck at work for fourteen hours. What’s with the field trip?”
“Took you long enough to ask,” he teased. “Perks of being in charge. I can occasionally get away with field trips.”
He put the car in park and shut off the engine. “This is it.”
Carrie opened her door and jumped out, looking around.
“Which picnic table?”
Peter reached in his pocket and pulled out the picture. “You tell me.”
He watched her examine the photo and then look around, trying to identify which one was in the photo. He had spotted it as soon as they drove up, but he wanted to see how long she took to pick it out.
“There!” she said, jogging toward the correct table. The trashcan next to it had a red line spray painted on it. To the average visitor, it just looked like a bit of vandalism when in fact, it was a signal.
“Very well done, Miss Davenport,” Peter said when he caught up with her.
“So, what now?” Carrie asked sitting on the bench of the picnic table.
“I’m not sure. I really just wanted to get a feel for the place and see if there was another package.” Peter said, approaching the spray-painted trash can. It was a square can with a large top that had rectangle holes on all four sides. Peter reached through one of the holes and felt around the top. Sure enough, something was taped to it.
Carrie jumped up and ran to his side as he pulled the envelope out.
“Open it, open it,” she said impatiently.
Peter ripped open the envelope and pulled out the single sheet of paper.
Peter,
I’m assuming you’re reading this since I doubt the reporter had the skills to locate the drop point. I can’t reveal my identity
yet but I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You’re a smart ass-I mean smart man. Check this spot periodically, it’s how I’ll communicate from now on. I don’t think it’s safe for me to infiltrate the mail room at the Post a third time.
Carrie,
I’m a fan of your work. Don’t let Peter be too much of a jerk to you. He’s got a thing about reporters ever since one fucked him over a few years ago. I’ll be in touch soon.
RIP
“Oh, I like this guy,” Carrie said. “Though I don’t appreciate his little jab about my skills.”
Peter was fuming. “I don’t appreciate whoever the fuck this is telling my life story.”
Carrie patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll pretend I didn’t see a thing. I’m sorry you had a bad experience with a journalist.” Peter was just barely processing her words. Whoever the hell this was had no right to bring Gigi into this.
“I promise we’re not all bad,” she continued.
“I haven’t met a good one yet,” Peter snapped, stalking back to his SUV.
Chapter Nine
“Come on, pick up, pick up,” Carrie muttered with the phone pressed to her ear.
It had been two days since her strange almost fight with Peter at the rest stop. Things had been icy to say the least. But she was going crazy hanging out in her office all day and her coworkers were starting to talk.
It wasn’t like Carrie to sit in her cubicle writing all day. As an investigative journalist, she preferred getting her hands dirty. Talk in the cubicle farm was that Tom had benched her for getting arrested.
Tom just thought she was working hard on her investigation into Corbit Upwood and her original piece on the anti sex trafficking bill. Carrie was having a hard time holding it together. The bright fluorescent lights and lack of fresh air were getting to her.
Peter’s cell went to voicemail again, so she sent him a text.
Going crazy here. We have to figure out a better plan.
There was no immediate response, so Carrie stood to pace. Ten minutes later, her phone dinged.
I’m sorry. I’m working on it. Just hang tight. I’ll pick you up tonight.
She flashed her middle finger at the phone with a scowl on her face and then sent him the middle finger emoji just because she had that technology. Stoic Agent Mercer didn’t seem like the emoji type, so she wasn’t really expecting a response.
Then her phone dinged again.
Behave and I’ll buy dinner. Whatever you want. My treat.
Behave? Did he think she was twelve? Choosing to ignore him, she sat at her desk and did her best to keep her mind off the fact that she couldn’t leave. Then again, there was technically nothing stopping her from hopping in a cab to anywhere she wanted to go. Other than the fact that someone had tried to kidnap her and set her apartment on fire, of course.
The promise of dinner with Peter sounded appealing, especially after the rest stop incident. They still hadn’t talked about it and she was dying to pick his brain and see if she could figure out how he fit into this whole story.
A half hour later, her cell phone rang. The name on the screen made her smile.
“Edith, what’s up lady?”
“Do you want to come out and play tonight? Gary’s having a party.”
Her heart sank. She’d forgotten all about the fact that they had discussed this last time they spoke.
“Aww. I’m not sure I can. I’ll need to check on a few things first. What time?”
“Oh, you know how these things are. Doors open at seven-thirty, but it won’t really get hopping until after nine.”
Making a split-second decision she said, “OK. Look, I won’t have time to get back to my apartment. Do you think you could pick me up at the Post?”
“I thought you had to check on some things,” Edith said.
“I do but I’m pretty sure I can make it work.”
“Wonderful,” the older woman said with a squeal. “I’ll pick you up at seven?”
“That sounds perfect. I hope it’s OK I’m just coming in my work clothes,” Carrie said, feeling better already.
“Honey, I don’t care how you come just so long as you do it nice and loud.”
“EDITH!” Carrie gasped in mock horror which sent her friend into a fit of giggles.
When the call ended, she felt torn. Was this the right thing to do? How dangerous could going to a BDSM party be?
As intriguing as dinner with Peter might seem, she was pretty sure that wouldn’t end in the fun that going to a party with Edith would.
Still, she was conflicted. She’d already arranged for Edith to pick her up a full ninety minutes before Peter was due to arrive. Could she make an excuse to stay at work longer? Go to the party and then slip back in before he got there? It felt like a plausible idea.
At six, she decided to stop worrying and just go to Gary’s party with Edith. Dinner with Peter could happen another time since she was practically living with him right now.
Decision made, she picked up her phone and called him.
“Stop calling me. Texting is better,” he barked into the phone without bothering with hello.
“Sorry. Listen, some crazy stuff is happening in the news world and it looks like I’ll be at the office super late. I think I’ll just crash here tonight.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Carrie made a face and silently mimicked him, annoyed with his overprotective nature.
“Sorry man. Work is work. You’re welcome to camp out here after you get done but I can’t let you back in the newsroom while we’re all working,” she lied. “Besides, it’s perfectly safe, there’s overnight security.”
He hesitated for a moment before saying, “OK. Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night then.”
The call ended and Carrie grinned. It probably wasn’t good to be proud of being a good liar but at that moment, that’s exactly what she was. Now she just had to wait for Edith, and she could get the hell out of here.
At ten til seven, Edith called to say she was pulling up out front.
Carrie practically ran for the front doors. A huge grin spread across her face when she spotted Edith’s tiny sports car.
Climbing into the passenger seat she said, “I’ve been at work since six. Get me the hell out of here.”
Edith’s laugh filled the car as she pulled into traffic.
“We missed you at my house last time. I’m glad you’re finally coming to Gary’s with me.”
Carrie clapped her hands together. “I’m excited. My work clothes aren’t really party attire, but it’s OK.”
Edith rolled her eyes. “Nobody gives a damn what you wear.”
The drive to Gary’s house took some time because he lived on the outskirts of town. As they pulled up, Carrie’s eyes bugged. The house was sprawling and there was a lot of space between it and the few other houses in the area. The large privacy fence around the backyard told her that people probably got to get freaky outdoors too which delighted her. More and more, she was glad she blew Peter off and came out tonight.
At the door, Carrie grinned when Gary opened it in jeans, his cowboy hat, and bare chest. Dog tags dangled around his neck and his muscles glistened as if he’d been sweating.
“Ladies come in,” he said with a sweeping motion of his arm. “Carrie, it’s about time you got to my house. You going to let me torture you later?”
Carrie shrugged with a wink. “Maybe. It’s good to be here. You been working out?”
“We were moving a suspension frame to the backyard since the weather is nice.”
Carrie’s eyes lit up. “That sounds fun.”
They stepped inside the house which was well decorated in a way that she wouldn’t have expected from a soldier from Texas. It was early, so there were only a couple of other people in the house, but one of them was already in just her underwear.
When Gary walked past the scantily clad girl, he fisted his hand into her hair and pulled
her along with him. The girl giggled the entire way down the hall as they disappeared into a room.
One of her favorite activities at these parties was sitting in a corner watching all the people arrive, so she found a couch and did just that.
Dinner with Peter might have been interesting, but there wasn’t much that could beat a night like this. Hanging out with her tribe would rejuvenate her in ways that sleep or caffeine couldn’t.
When Gary came sauntering back down the hall, he had another tall man with him.
“Hey Carrie, I want you to meet Reggie.”
Carrie stood and smiled at the man who was clearly a top and offered her hand.
He accepted with a firm grip and a huge grin. “Hi Carrie, it’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard about you a few times.” Carrie raised an eyebrow. “Nothing personal, I assure you. Just that you’re someone who might be a match for my play style,” he continued.
So, this was a setup, Carrie mused to herself before responding. “I like a lot of play styles which is why I tend to bounce around depending on my mood. We can certainly talk if you like. I wasn’t even planning to be here tonight, so this is kind of last minute.”
“Maybe it’s fate,” Reggie said with a grin.
Carrie tried not to roll her eyes. If he could play with her the way she liked, she was open to it, but fate and romance weren’t exactly what she was after at these parties.
Instead of voicing that, she motioned to the couch she had been sitting on. “Would you like to sit and talk? See if we can come to an agreement?”
Reggie sat with a grin. “I have a feeling we’ll get along just fine Carrie.”
• • •
It had been a long, boring day. Boring was good in Peter’s line of work, but he had been looking forward to dinner with Carrie so he could apologize for being an ass the other day and so they could dig further into the information they had had. Part of him wanted to go to her office and hang out like she told him he could, but he knew that would be weird. Her staying there all night didn’t sit well with him even with overnight security. But he knew she had a lot of work to do. The news cycle had been busy today. If they were struggling to get the paper out with all the changes, an all nighter made sense.
