by Robin Mahle
What he missed most was the interaction he had with Kate. Her enthusiasm, her insight. Watching her wheels spin when they were working on a case was nothing short of watching genius at work, in his humble opinion. And the fact that she wasn’t here was a testament to her confidence and how much it had grown, especially over the past six months or so. She had come into her own and he was witness to the transformation. Her wish had been that he not offer any special treatment when it came to training or applying for work at BAU Headquarters. And he’d kept to his end of the bargain. Kate had been in a few times for various courses but had only recently applied to work under the direction of Unit 4’s profiler, Noah Quinn. She hadn’t even met him yet. But Nick hoped that was all about to change.
He left his office, which was a far cry from the one he had back at the Washington Field Office. Larger, better views, and with superior technology at his fingertips. The time had come for him to meet with Quinn to discuss his options for hiring another to work beneath him. Resumes had been submitted, including Kate’s. Her letters of recommendation from Quantico instructors, colleagues, and other law enforcement officials included. And it was all her own doing. She had worked tirelessly to obtain the required information and had sent everything to Quinn via email last week. She, along with several other candidates, was in the running.
“Quinn?” Nick appeared in his doorway. “You got a minute?”
“Scarborough. How’s it going? Sure, come on in.”
“I wanted to follow up with you on your quest for a trainee.”
Quinn leaned back in his seat. “I’m still in the process of reviewing the applications. So far, I’ve seen a few strong candidates, but I haven’t made any calls to meet yet. Why?”
“Just interested. I’m sure we’d like to get fully staffed as soon as possible.”
“I understand, but this is an important decision. We need to bring in the right person. Someone who has proven him or herself and you know as well as I do the type of person it takes to do this job.”
“I do know.”
“That being said, I should be finished whittling down the list by the end of the week and will be looking to set up meetings for next week.”
“Great. Well, I’ll let you to it, then.” Nick began to leave.
“Scarborough?”
“Yeah?”
“I know there’s a history between you and candidate Agent Reid and I hope you understand that I can’t let that affect my decision-making process.”
“I wouldn’t expect it to, Quinn.”
“Good. I’ll see you later.”
2
The officer spotted the car ahead, noticing the extensive rear end damage. His shift had only just begun as had his patrol around the 57-acre grounds of the Washington National Cathedral. The Cathedral’s auxiliary police force worked in conjunction with Metro PD and operated with full legal authority when on the grounds of the Cathedral.
He pulled up behind the two-door Audi and cut the engine. “Well, that’s a shame. Damn nice car.” Stepping out into the morning air that had warmed considerably so early in the day, he began his approach to what appeared to be an abandoned vehicle.
The officer’s black rubber-soled shoes struck the pavement with a heavy thud as he made his way toward the car. His eyes shifted in search of anyone nearby who might be the owner, but the Cathedral was still closed at this early hour and no one was in sight.
Given the proximity to the heavily-traveled Massachusetts Avenue, it would not have been unusual for a driver to pull off down this road if he was in need of assistance, as it certainly appeared this driver had been.
The officer was steps away from the rear window on the driver’s side and palmed his weapon. The cloudy skies reflected off the window and he struggled to see in until he moved closer to the driver’s door, noticing shards of glass clinging to the door frame. He slowed his approach and leaned in. “Holy shit.” He stumbled back and pressed the button on the radio receiver strapped to his shoulder. “Requesting backup. Unit 4-2 in need of immediate assistance.”
“Unit 4-2, what’s your location?” the dispatcher replied.
“Pilgrim Road, opposite Bishop’s Gardens. I think I’ve got a dead body here.”
“Units are responding.”
With his elbow, he cleared the shards and reached inside. “Oh my God.” He pressed two fingers against the woman’s neck and knew she was gone. The hole in her head was also a pretty good indicator.
Within minutes, two patrol cars raced behind him, screeching to a halt. The officers jumped from their vehicles and rushed to his side.
“She’s dead.” An unusual sight for sure, the officer blurted out the words before the others could draw near, as though he was preparing them.
“You break the window?” one of the officers asked.
“Already broken. Door’s jammed. I had to see if she was still alive.” He peered inside again. “And then there’s this. Take a look.”
The officer angled his head inside to get a view of her face, which was slumped to her right. “Jesus!” He pulled away. “What the…?” He turned to the other men. “She’s got something shoved in her mouth.”
“Like a sock or something?”
“Hell, I don’t know. It’s soaked in blood. Son of a bitch. We got to call Metro. Get them down here now before we open the grounds.”
It didn’t take long before Metro PD arrived en masse and with plenty of force. The reason was simple. This place was an American institution that held presidential funerals as well as prayer services after the inaugurations of the past several presidents. Right now, no one knew what this was and so nothing could be ruled out, not even the possibility of terrorism.
Detective Anthony Phelps approached the officer still standing next to the driver’s side door. “You the one who called this in?”
“Officer Brooks.” He offered his hand.
“And you broke the window too?”
“No. It was already smashed. The door is jammed shut. I confirmed the status of the victim.”
“Okay. You mind if I take a look?”
The officer stepped back and allowed Detective Phelps a closer look. “She’s got something in her mouth.”
Phelps placed latex gloves on his hands and leaned over the door. “We need to get this door opened.” He continued to peer at the body. “Let’s see what we’ve got here. Anyone run the plates yet or look for an ID?”
“No, sir. As soon as I saw she was dead, I just been waiting for you guys.”
“Hey, Guzman, you mind running the plates?” he shouted to one of his men. “Let’s see if we can find out who you are, Miss.” Phelps tilted the woman’s head and reached for the scrap of fabric lodged in her mouth. “Christ, it’s wedged in there good.” He continued to pull as gently as he could. “Got it.”
“What the hell is it?” Brooks appeared squeamish at the sight of the fabric that dripped with blood and saliva.
Phelps began to unravel the bunched-up material, though the type of fabric was too difficult to ascertain. What he did know was that it had writing on it. Holding it with both hands, he pulled it taut. “‘Whore.’ Written in what could be lipstick, possibly red, the word ‘whore.’” He turned to the growing crowd of officers around him. “Okay. Let’s see what else we can find. How about a name, to start? Guzman?”
“The car is registered to a Janine Atherton, twenty-seven years old, Bethesda, Maryland.”
“Get me a bag, would you?” Phelps asked.
“Sure thing.” Brooks walked toward the ambulance that had arrived.
“Any police reports of a recent accident in her name?”
“No,” Guzman continued.
“Which means we have to assume that someone hit her either before or after she stopped here.”
Brooks returned with the bag. “I didn’t see any broken glass around the back of the vehicle or any signs a collision occurred at this location.”
“Thanks.” Phelps p
laced the evidence in the bag and began walking around to the back of the car. “Let’s get CSI down here now. And get that ambo over here so we can get this poor girl loaded up.”
The house was empty. Not a scrap of furniture left inside. Just exactly as Kate had seen it when she arrived after the days-long journey from San Diego. Starting a new life. And now she was ready for the next chapter. Years had passed since she lost Sam and then Marshall. She was a different woman now. No longer afraid of her past, no longer fearful that it might still catch up to her. And that was the only saving grace in all of the pain she had endured.
Happiness now awaited her. Something she never thought would again be possible, but it was waiting for her outside, right at this very moment.
Leaving this house had been a difficult decision she had spent many sleepless nights pondering. And while moving into Nick’s condo wasn’t ideal, it would do, for now. The little old woman and her son who owned this place decided now that she was moving out, the time had come for them to sell it. The market was better. Everything was better.
A final check of the rooms. Nothing had been left behind, except maybe the woman Kate used to be. She made her way outside, locking the deadbolt a final time.
Nick stood in front of the moving truck, hands in his pockets, sun shining on his face and waiting for her to say her final goodbyes to a home that had been truly hers, even if she hadn’t owned it. The first and only time she’d ever lived alone.
Kate turned away from the door and stepped off the porch, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Hair pulled back into her trademark ponytail, wearing shorts and a t-shirt that had been dirtied by the final cleaning of the house, she smiled at Nick. “I’m ready when you are.”
He placed his hands on her shoulders and they both peered at the quaint cottage-style house that had been Kate’s home for nearly three years. “I’ll drive the truck to the storage unit if you want to take your car to the condo and start unloading it.”
“Sounds good.” Kate kissed his cheek. “Dwight leave already?”
“I told him he could take off. They’ll unload the truck when I get to the facility, so no need for extra hands. I’ll meet you at home soon.”
“Home. Okay. See you later.” She smiled and walked to her new car, the one she finally broke down and purchased last month. Her old Nissan had seen better days and the time had come to move on from that too. With her probation over, it was an easy decision to make, one she had put off for far too long. Still, she refused to use the money Marshall had left her. That would be for when she and Nick decided to buy a house together. He would have wanted it that way. He would have always wanted nothing but happiness for her.
The engine of her new Ford Explorer droned softly as she pulled out of the driveway. Nothing extravagant. Not like Nick’s car. Then again, he made quite a bit more money than she did. Especially now that he was the senior unit agent. Never mind. It didn’t bother her. She was happy with her purchase and headed out onto the road toward Nick’s place. “I guess it’s my place now.”
She pulled into the parking garage with her very own parking pass. Nick had set everything up for her. But it didn’t change the fact that this was still his home. Not hers. A part of her had felt the same after moving in with Marshall. His place, his rules. That wasn’t what he intended, of course; it was just the way she felt. And the familiar feeling crept inside her here too.
Kate grabbed a box from the back and headed into the elevator. Upon reaching his unit, she used her brand new key and opened the door, shutting off the alarm in the process. She was home. Only once again, a home that was not hers. Setting the box on the floor, she walked inside. Certain her presence here had reached a minimum of a thousand times before, Kate knew every nook and cranny, even where Nick hid his stash of cigarettes. It was a vice he picked up only recently, though he wasn’t a regular smoker. But every now and again, he would stand on the balcony, peer at the bay and smoke to calm his nerves. She never gave him grief about it. It was enough that she served as a constant reminder for him to keep his drinking under control, which he had—mostly. But to deny him a few drags from a cigarette after the type of work they dealt with would be denying him the chance to release stress how he saw fit. And she wasn’t his mother.
But looking at this place now, it was all different. They’d already come to the conclusion that the goal was to buy a house in the near future. Whatever that meant. This was simply a temporary arrangement in order to keep from renewing her lease, thereby liberating her in the event she was offered a position inside of Quantico. A probability that still existed, though she hadn’t yet heard anything back after submitting her application—ensuring Nick did nothing to further it ahead of anyone else. As she’d stated that fateful day in November, she would not ride on his coattails. Ever again.
The upside to her living here was that they would see each other more often. Since his transfer, if they got together more than twice a week, they’d count themselves lucky. It would be a nice change to see him on a daily basis again. And perhaps even better that it was privately and they were no longer working together. She had felt freed by that, without expressing it directly to him.
Kate stepped outside on the balcony and looked out toward the bay where Nick’s boat gently swayed in its slip. “Maybe we’ll actually get to take it out this summer.”
“I certainly hope so.”
A flinch at the oncoming unexpected voice. “You’re back? That didn’t take too long.”
“Nope. You’re all set.”
“Thank you for taking care of that for me.”
“That’s what a good boyfriend would do, right?”
“I guess so.” She snuggled against his chest. “It’ll be strange waking up to you every day.”
“Strange? In a good way, I hope.” Nick wrapped his arms around her waist.
“In a good way.”
“Hey, I was talking with Quinn and he said he’d be contacting the applicants next week.”
“Hopefully, I’ll hear from him. Assuming you made no suggestion that he should reach out to me.”
“We had an agreement and I’m sticking to it. I promise you. I will not interfere with the process.”
“Good. Now that we’ve got that settled, we should celebrate.”
“What kind of celebrating?” A seductive smile crept upon his lips.
“Take out. Maybe a glass of wine on the balcony. The warm breeze on our skin.”
“Sounds perfect.”
Grant Copeland’s chief of staff, Philip Vega, stood at his door. “Excuse me, Grant. May I come in?”
“Sure, Phil. Come on in. How was your weekend?” Copeland set his phone down and turned his attention to Vega.
“Fine, thank you. Listen, I—um, I got a call; a message, actually, and I haven’t returned it yet. I wanted to talk to you first.”
“Who was it?”
“Metro Police.”
“Oh? What, did I forget to pay a parking ticket or someone on the staff forget?”
“They said it was important I call them back as soon as possible.”
“I see. Then what are you waiting for? Call them back. Do I need to do it?”
“I don’t think so. They called the mainline and Theresa forwarded it to my voicemail. I think they’d have asked for you directly, if that were the case.”
“Okay, maybe you’d better make the call and let me know what this is about because that look on your face is making me a little nervous. Is there anything you need to tell me first?”
“I’m not sure if the two events are related, but I also got a call first thing this morning from Janine Atherton’s roommate. Said she hadn’t seen her since Saturday morning and wasn’t answering her phone. Wanted to know if she’d shown up for work today.”
Copeland’s mouth gaped and his eyes blinked as though in slow motion. “She’s not in?”
Vega shook his head. “I haven’t heard from her since the fundraiser on Saturday night. Th
at’s why I came to see you. Now that Metro PD has called, I’m starting to get a very bad feeling about this.”
“Okay, okay, before we jump to conclusions, why don’t you just return their call and find out what the hell is going on? Let me know as soon as you know anything, you hear me?”
Vega nodded and left the office.
Copeland began to search his memory for her final words before she left the hotel. Nothing came to mind that would speak to her absence now. He hadn’t tried to contact her on Sunday because he was with his family. Now his concern grew and his focus on anything else had vanished. “Calm down. She’s okay.” He reached for his cell and was ready to press the button and make the call to her himself, but something stopped him. Self-preservation. Both for his political career and his marriage. If something had happened, his call would show up on her phone and phone records if her voicemail picked up. “Just wait for Phil.”
Several minutes passed and his patience was running thin. He had to know if Janine was okay. Just as he was about to rise, Phil returned and Copeland knew right then and there, bad news awaited him.
“I spoke with a Detective Phelps.” He lowered himself onto a chair. “Grant, Janine was found dead yesterday morning near the Cathedral.”
“What? The Cathedral? What the hell?”
“Apparently, her car had been rear-ended, pretty badly, and they found her already dead.”
Copeland cupped his mouth and devastation masked his face. He was speechless for several moments until finally lowering his hand. “She died in a car accident?”
“No. She was murdered, Grant. Shot in the head. They think she was rammed off the road and then shot. I guess the cops went to her apartment, but there was no answer. I don’t know where her roommate was at the time, but they didn’t have her name and the detective said they didn’t want to just start calling random people listed as contacts on her cell. They found my name with the words “boss man” next to it. Figured that would be their best bet.”
