Worthy of Trust and Confidence

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Worthy of Trust and Confidence Page 10

by Kara A. McLeod


  I clenched my jaw against a rising tide of annoyance. “Something like that.”

  “You okay?”

  “Peachy.” But that wasn’t even remotely true. I was completely immersed in my own problems, and I didn’t welcome the interruption. Couple that with the aches and pains I was trying to manage without the assistance of painkillers, and you ended up with one very unhappy federal agent.

  “You sound a little off to me,” Scott informed me, either not picking up on my mood or, more likely, not caring that he was poking the proverbial hornet’s nest with a stick. “Shouldn’t you be cursing me by now?”

  I took a deep, deliberately controlled breath and let it out slowly. I wasn’t sure who I was pissed at, exactly. Maybe myself for not being able to shake the feeling that I should’ve suspected sooner that I was actually the target of the assassination attempt. Maybe the universe in general for repeatedly sabotaging my attempts to have a real conversation with Allison. I slapped the palm of my good hand down on the desk and began rooting around in my top drawer for a pen.

  “How can I help you, Scott?” I asked tightly, shooting another dark look in the direction of the guys who were on duty and actually supposed to be fielding this call.

  “Wow. This is serious. Not a single swear word to be heard. I’m going to start thinking you don’t love me anymore.”

  “It’s the new and improved me,” I told him sarcastically. “Professionalism is my middle name.”

  “I thought Ryan was your middle name.”

  It wasn’t. But now didn’t seem like the time to get into all that. “I was thinking of having it changed.”

  Scott hummed. “No. It doesn’t have the same ring to it. I’d keep it the way it is.”

  “Thanks for the tip.”

  “That’s what I’m here for.”

  I said nothing, but I tapped the end of the pen against the mouthpiece of the phone impatiently.

  “Aw, come on, Ryan. Why do you never sound happy to hear from me?”

  “Because you never tell me anything I want to hear. In fact, I think I’m going to hang up on you now.” Allison appeared amused by my threat, and I grinned at her.

  “Ah, ah,” he chided in a singsong voice, sounding almost smug. “You know that’s against the rules.”

  “Yeah, well, who’s gonna know?” I shot back. “I’ll just deny I ever picked up the phone. I’m not even supposed to be here.”

  Scott laughed lightly. “These lines are recorded. You know that.”

  “Is that even legal?”

  “DC is a one-party-consent state. So is New York, actually.”

  “How do you even know that?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  I laughed in spite of myself. “You’re a shit.”

  Scott laughed, too. “There’s the trucker I know and love.”

  “Okay, you got me to laugh. Good for you. I’ll send you a fucking medal. Just tell me what you want so I can pass it to the response guys and go the hell home.”

  “Actually, Ryan, it’s kind of a good thing you picked up the phone.” I sensed a slight hesitation behind his words.

  “Oh, what the hell? Why?” This seriously wasn’t my day. I saw Allison sit up straighter and lean forward, the report in her hands apparently forgotten.

  “You remember Adam Royce Walker?”

  My mind raced furiously to decipher exactly what he was asking me because he sure wasn’t being literal with his question. “Of course. What about him?”

  Scott sighed. “He’s out.”

  I was stunned. I opened my mouth but then shut it again and frowned. That wasn’t good.

  “Ryan? You there?”

  “What do you mean, he’s out?”

  Allison’s face registered her concern, and she mouthed, “Who?” I shook my head a little and held up one finger, silently asking her to wait.

  “Just what I said. He’s out.”

  “How the hell did he get out?” Whoever’d been literally gunning for me couldn’t have arranged this, could they? No. That was impossible. I was just being paranoid. Shit. I really needed to not start looking for conspiracies everywhere.

  “Saint E’s let him go. A few weeks ago, actually.” Saint E’s—short for Saint Elizabeth’s—was a mental-health facility located in DC.

  “Why?”

  “Apparently it was time.”

  “And why weren’t we notified?”

  “I don’t know, Ryan. I honestly don’t. But that isn’t what you need to be concerned about right now. We have a much more pressing problem.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly. I failed to see how DC’s pressing problem became my immediate concern. I mean, sure, I thought I knew where he was going with this conversation, but I was going to exist in a state of blissful denial on the subject for as long as I could and make him spell it out for me.

  “He just called to say he’s on his way to New York.”

  There it was. That’s what I’d been waiting for. A humorless little laugh bubbled up in the back of my throat, bitter and rancid. “Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he be?”

  Scott sounded sympathetic. “He’s taking the train to Penn Station right now. Or so he says. He should hit town in about two and half hours, give or take. Want to guess where his first stop is likely to be when he gets there?”

  I groaned and put my head in my hand. My shoulders sagged, increasing the ever-present ache, and I hissed. “No. I think I can figure it out on my own.”

  “I haven’t notified the detail yet. You were my first call. Frankly, if you hadn’t picked up the phone, my next call was going to be to your cell.”

  “Lucky me.”

  “Well, you were his case agent when he was in New York. I figure you know him better than anyone else.”

  “Yeah. That makes sense. Thanks, Scotty. I mean it. I’ll take care of notifying the detail. I’ll tell them to call you, so you know the message was passed. And then I’ll take care of him.”

  “You sure?”

  I bit my bottom lip thoughtfully, pondering the situation and all the ways it could play out. “Yeah,” I said after a long moment when I realized he was waiting for a reply. “I’m sure. Listen. Can you fax me everything you have for him? I kind of fell out of touch with his situation when he relocated to DC. Oh, and the train number, if you have it.”

  “Thanks, Ryan.” I thought Scott sounded a touch relieved. And why shouldn’t he? He was handing the metaphorical ball off to someone else. This wasn’t his responsibility anymore. He, at least, would get to go home at the end of his tour.

  I hung up and immediately met Allison’s worried gaze. “That didn’t sound good,” she said after a beat.

  I raised my hands in a helpless gesture and then raked my fingernails lightly down my cheeks. “It really isn’t. I’m so sorry about this.”

  Allison’s expression grew dark. “They’re not seriously making you go to work right now.”

  “I have to.”

  “You just got out of the hospital.”

  “Tell that to the threat subject on his way to New York,” I said with a twisted attempt at a smile.

  “This fucking agency,” she muttered under her breath, throwing the report in her hand onto my desk top with a forceful breath. “Who is it?”

  I hesitated. “Adam Royce Walker.”

  Her eyes widened. “What?”

  “Yup.”

  “He’s out?”

  “Apparently.”

  “When did that happen? Did they notify the detail?”

  “Yours or Hurricane’s?” I asked playfully.

  “Either.”

  “I don’t know about yours. I get to go tell Hurricane’s.”

  Allison scowled and flounced back into her chair, folding her arms across her chest. “Can’t you just call them?”

  “I can. But if he shows up, someone’s going to have to handle him. Seeing as how he was my case when he was still here, it really should be me.”


  “You can barely walk without limping, you’re not supposed to move your right arm at all, and you’re going to go have it out with a crazy man more than twice your size. Great.”

  “Hey.” When she didn’t look at me, I eased myself out of my chair and moved to her side, trying unsuccessfully to minimize the limp she’d just mentioned as I went. I placed a hand on her shoulder and waited for her to meet my eyes. “You know I don’t want to do this, right? That I’d rather be going home with you?”

  She stared at me for a long moment before finally taking my hand. The knot inside me loosened at the gesture and unraveled completely when her expression softened. “I know you don’t. I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you.”

  “Not about this,” I was unable to stop myself from saying.

  A wry smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth. “No. Not about this. But it looks like we don’t have time to get into that right now.”

  “Talk about saved by the bell, huh?”

  “Do you really want to be flip with me right now?”

  “No. I don’t. I’m sorry. And I feel awful that you came all the way up here for nothing.”

  Allison stood up and contorted her body back and forth to stretch out her back. “Who says it was for nothing?”

  I furrowed my brow, unable to mask my confusion. “Uh…It’s just that there’s no way to know how long this is gonna take. I doubt you want to sit around and wait for me to get done.”

  “You’re right. I’m not going to just sit around. I’m going with you.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “I did. I just can’t imagine you’re serious.”

  “Trust me, I’m serious.”

  “But…why?”

  The look she gave me then, all soft and affectionate and indulgent, instantly burrowed beneath my skin and lit fires inside me in all the best places. “I’ve heard you’re pretty good at this.”

  “What? Dealing with threat subjects?”

  “Mmm-hmm. Word on the street is they wanted to send you down to Beltsville to teach the Protective Intelligence block, but you’re technically too junior, so they’re waiting.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her, trying to determine if she was messing with me. It was tough to tell. She’d been on the job longer and had contacts I didn’t, so it was possible she was telling the truth. But I wasn’t necessarily ready to believe her. “Really?”

  “Yup. And I’d never forgive myself for passing up the chance to see you in action.”

  A small smile tugged at the corners of my lips, and I rolled my eyes at her. “Sure. Well, let’s go then.” I started to walk toward the door, but she stopped me with a hand on my arm.

  “Why don’t you go round up the two-to-ten guys. I’ll meet you back here in a few minutes. I want to hit the restroom before we leave.”

  “Okay.”

  I trailed along behind her, and we got as far as my doorway before she abruptly spun around. I froze and held my breath as we stared at one another. My nerves danced and my heart thundered the longer the silence stretched between us. I licked my lips and balled my hands into light fists to disguise their trembling.

  The air between us was thick and heavy and crackled with promise as we stared at one another. I tried to inhale when she reached out to trace the stitches near my eyebrow with a gentle fingertip, but the breath got stuck in my throat. She smiled softly at me then and leaned down to capture my lips in a languid kiss.

  When she eventually pulled back, it took me a second to make my eyes work, and even then, they fluttered a bit before I convinced them to stay open. “What was that for?” I asked, my lips still almost brushing hers, my voice barely louder than a murmur.

  She smiled at me before giving me another gentle peck and saying, “Just because.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  After Allison left to go to the bathroom, I stood in the doorway to my office for a long moment trying to compose myself. My cheeks felt flushed, and my lips were still tingling from her kiss. I had to shake my head and slap myself lightly on the face to push away thoughts of what Allison and I could be doing with our evening and back to what we were going to be doing.

  Following a brief trip to the water fountain to get a long, cold drink, I set about trying to find the on-call guys. It didn’t take long to locate them. They were tossing a small Nerf football back and forth across the long hallway around the corner from the squad, killing the last few minutes until the end of their shift. The irony of the situation as I recalled my last thought about Scott and his metaphorical handoff wasn’t lost on me.

  “Time to go to work, fellas,” I told them, effortlessly snatching their ball out of the air with my left hand and tucking it under my arm as I strode away.

  “Hey!” Austin Ford cried indignantly after me as I headed in the direction of my office. “That’s our ball.”

  “Yeah, Ryan,” PJ Clark chimed in, from right behind me. “If you wanted to play, all you had to do was ask.”

  I tossed the ball carelessly over my shoulder without looking and heard PJ let out a muffled curse. I smiled. “Sorry, guys. Game’s over.”

  “Ryan,” Austin said, sounding a trifle annoyed. “It’s almost the end of our shift. The midnight guys should be relieving us any minute now. Whatever it is, let them take care of it.”

  I sighed and stopped walking so I could turn to face them. “Actually, I need them, too. No one’s getting off light with this one. I’m sorry.” And I was. No one likes to be told at the very end of the night that the shift has been extended indefinitely. But that’s what we got paid for. Hell, it wasn’t like it happened very often. At least they could be gracious about it on the rare occasion it did.

  “Aw, Ryan, come on!” PJ grumbled. If the white knuckles on his hands were any indication, he was squeezing that football pretty hard in his frustration.

  My patience snapped. “Look. I don’t like this any better than you do. I’m not even supposed to be here, for crying out loud. But something came up, and now we all have to work together to deal with it. Okay?”

  That seemed to mollify them, if only a little, and their expressions were somewhat contrite. Austin sighed and ran his hand over the layer of fuzz covering his head. “What’s going on?”

  “You remember Adam Royce Walker?”

  Austin shrugged lightly. “Sure. What about him? He’s in DC, right?”

  “Not anymore.”

  Austin’s eyes popped open wide. “What?”

  “He’s out, and he’s decided to come pay us a visit.”

  “Adam Royce Walker?” PJ drew out the words, and his brow furrowed in concentration. “Why do I know that name?”

  I shifted my attention to him. His words had reminded me he was pretty new to the squad and had probably not been around when Walker had still been here. “He’s one of our more…interesting PI subjects. They actually talk about him in training now when they’re covering the Intelligence block. I had to make a PowerPoint presentation for them,” I told Austin with a little smile.

  Austin laughed. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope.”

  “Please tell me there are pictures! I love the one I took of you guys in Central Park with that silver street-performer guy. It was priceless.”

  I made a face at him and returned my attention to PJ. “Adam Royce Walker is a paranoid schizophrenic with delusions of grandeur who’s off his medication as often as he’s on it. He has a fairly predictable cycle. He goes off his meds, gets a touch vocal about his ideas, threatens to kill himself and / or someone else, depending on his mood, and ends up being committed because he’s a danger to himself and / or others.

  “While he’s in lockup, they get him back on his meds, he comes down, appears rational and reasonable, and they have no cause to hold him anymore, so they cut him loose. At which point, he decides he’s fine and goes back off his meds. And round and round it goes.” I sighed at the inherently frustrating nature of the mental-health sys
tem. It was a vicious circle, and as far as I could tell there was no way out of it.

  “All the earmarks that the instructors in training tell you to look for in a PI subject to assess each one’s relative threat level? He hits them. With gusto,” Austin informed PJ. “He kept us on our toes when he was here in New York, that’s for damn sure.”

  “And it looks like the DC guys weren’t enough of a challenge for him. He called the office down there to inform them that he was on the train headed back to New York. Three guesses where his first stop is probably going to be.”

  “Shit,” Austin whispered softly.

  “That about sums it up,” I said.

  “Well, at least he called instead of just showing up,” Austin pointed out.

  “True. We have him pretty well trained that way. But then his innate craving for attention would never have allowed him to get away with not telling us.”

  “Where’s he headed?” PJ wanted to know.

  “His direction of interest is Hurricane.” I felt an acute stab of sympathy underlying the general feeling of helplessness that washed over me. That poor girl just couldn’t catch a break. Sure, all of our protectees had people who took an unusual interest in them, both positive and negative, but I’d never seen any collection of individuals as motivated to overt action as the ones who were obsessed with Zoey Carmichael. The worst part about it all, as far as I was concerned, was that Zoey hadn’t done anything to deserve any of this unwanted attention. She hadn’t asked for this. She was targeted solely because of whose daughter she was.

  I shook my head a little to dispel the cobwebs and got back to business. “I’m going to call the midnight response guys and tell them to get over to the Sin Bin ASAP and just hang out on the street with their eyes open.”

  “I’m sorry, the what?” PJ asked.

  It took me a second to realized what I’d said, and I struggled not to outwardly evince my mortification at the slip. “The CP.”

  “That’s not what you said.”

  I sighed. “No, it isn’t. But it’s what I meant. Now—”

  “I thought the code name for the CP was Platform.”

  “It is.” I glanced to Austin for help, but he was busy smirking at me.

 

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