The English Detective and the Rookie Agent

by Pat White

  “No one noticed the boy had gone missing?” He placed a lid to his cup and turned to her.

  “No. He was a shy kid, mostly kept to himself.”

  “Hmm.” He sipped his tea, an odd look on his face.

  He was a hard one to read and Mercedes didn’t like surprises.

  “Well, let’s be off, then.” He opened the hotel room door and cringed at the brightness of daylight.

  “Sure you don’t want some aspirin with your tea?” She ambled past him welcoming the sun’s warmth.

  “You’re going to keep at me all day, aren’t you?” He followed her to the car.

  She hesitated. “I’ll drive so you can concentrate on holding your cup steady.”

  She’d crossed the line. She knew it. Damn her uncontrollable mouth.

  He narrowed his eyes. “It’s a good thing you pursued a career in law instead of medicine.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ve got as much compassion as a serial killer.” He opened the passenger door and slid into the sedan.

  She wished she had a sassy remark at the tip of her tongue. But what could she say? That she’d used up all her compassion on a draining family and constant battles in a sexist career? No, this man didn’t need to know her struggles.

  Swiping her hand through long, dark hair, she took a deep breath. Having driven all night to get here wasn’t such a good idea. She was irritable about having to be a babysitter instead of an investigator.

  For some strange reason Barnes got to her. No one had gotten to Mercedes Ramos in many years.

  She got behing the wheel and glanced at her partner. He rested his head against the seat, his hand clutching his cup, his breathing steady. Had he passed out?

  “What about the parents?” he asked, not opening his eyes. “Did they notice anything unusual in the boy’s behavior lately?”

  “Nothing.” She pulled out of the lot and headed for the Command Center, an office in a storefront on Main Street.

  “Brothers and sisters?”

  “A younger sister.”

  “Friends?” he asked.

  “Not really.”

  “A shame,” he whispered.

  They drove a few blocks in silence.

  “And what about you?” he queried.

  “I have friends.”

  He opened his eyes and narrowed them at her. “Really?”

  Was he teasing her?

  “What I meant was, what brought you to Blackwell?” he clarified.

  “Didn’t you read my file?”

  “There wasn’t a file. Just Templeton’s directive that I train you.”

  She stiffened. He was going to train her?

  “You were with the FBI?” he said.

  “Five years.”

  “You plan to return?”

  “Possibly.” He didn’t have to know that her reputation had been ruined thanks to a protective partner and jealous spouse.

  “Why the break?”

  “I’m off to recover.” Ah, bad choice of words.

  “Recover from?”

  “None of your business.”

  “I beg to differ. If you have some kind of emotional issues—”

  “I don’t. I was physically injured and they’re being picky about agents returning to the field at one hundred percent.”

  The truth was she wasn’t sure she could go back and face the stares and whispers, sit for months, maybe years, behind a desk as agents paraded past with new cases.

  “Max hired you at less than one hundred percent.” He rested his head against the seat. “Interesting.”

  She’d better watch herself. If he was as smart as his reputation, she’d opened the door to his suspicions. Sure, she had an ulterior motive beyond finding the boy—she wanted to rebuild her reputation as an investigator and earn respect from her peers. She wanted to show Ivy that she could do anything, even excel in a man’s world, if she put her mind to it.

  “Government red tape kept me out of the field,” she explained. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

  “I’m glad to hear it, because we’re going to start by combing the beach for clues.”

  “The locals and feds have already done that.” Her knee ached at the thought of marching on unstable sand.

  “They might have missed something.”

  “I doubt it.” She pulled in front of the Command Center and parked.

  “Agent Ramos?” he said.

  She glanced at him. Was that a smile playing across his lips?

  “Yes?” she said.

  “I’d be happy to find you a less strenuous position on the team.”

  Chapter Two

  Tension arced across the room as the agents entered the Command Center. Neither Barnes nor Ramos are going to play well together in the proverbial sandbox.

  Tough luck. Max knew he’d get the best from both of them if they worked together. Checks and balances. The determined female agent would keep a close watch on Barnes, maybe figure out what was going on with the man. He’d been off lately, distracted. Not at all like the consummate investigator Max had worked with at Scotland Yard. But Barnes’s pride wouldn’t allow him to admit vulnerability of any kind.

  Max knew that feeling quite well.

  He couldn’t help but wonder if Barnes suffered from post-traumatic stress from nearly being blown to bits during their previous case. Jeremy was in complete denial that anything was wrong, yet he was just getting to work and it was the middle of the day.

  They approached Max’s office.

  “Barnes, you’re late.” Max leaned back in his chair.

  Theirs had always been a strained relationship, but after the last case Max actually felt a bit of kinship developing with his second in command.

  “I’m not feeling well,” Barnes said from the doorway.

  Agent Ramos rolled her eyes.

  Barnes slowly turned and looked through his rimless glasses at her. “Would you excuse us?”

  With a lift of her chin she went to her desk.

  Jeremy closed the office door and crossed his arms over his chest. “What the bloody hell were you thinking?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “That female does not belong here.”

  “You don’t think so?” Max opened her file. “She’s got five years with the federal government and seven years with local law enforcement.”

  Max also knew she was recovering from a bruised reputation. He could relate. She deserved a chance, much like the one Jeremy had given Max by asking him to lead the Blackwell Group.

  He glanced at Jeremy. “She could be an asset to Blackwell if things work out. What’s the trouble?”

  “You mean besides the fact that she’s argumentative and unprofessional?”

  “Unprofessional?” Max chuckled.

  “She broke into my room and was rifling through my things this morning.”

  Max glanced at his watch. “It’s afternoon, mate, and I sent her because I was worried.”

  “I wasn’t feeling well.”

  “So you said.” Max eyed Barnes. Dark shadows circled beneath his bloodshot eyes. “Caught a bug, did you?”

  “Seems like it.”

  It seemed more serious to Max. Did post-trauma terrors keep Barnes awake at night? Max had experienced the horror, the sweat-drenched anxiety attacks that would awaken him three or four times a night. It was the type of ailment you needed to tackle head on.

  Max also knew firsthand about the devilish coping mechanism called denial. He’d buried his own struggle with post-traumatic stress the same way. Then Cassie came along and led him out of the darkness.

  “Jeremy, Agent Ramos has recommendations from former supervisors and she seems like a determined young woman.”

  “Is that what you call it?”

  Jeremy glanced into the main office at his new partner. She snapped her attention away from him and studied an open folder on her desk.

  “You know I work alone,” Jeremy said.

  �
��You’re my strongest investigator. I need you to train her to be a part of Blackwell.”

  “And then?” He glanced at Max.

  “Then you’re on your own. No partner required.”

  Jeremy nodded. “With any luck we’ll solve this case as quickly as the last.”

  “I’ve left some new information on your desk. Look it over, will you? And ask Agent Ramos to step into my office.”

  Jeremy opened the office door, strode to Agent Ramos’s desk and waited. It was a full five seconds before she looked up at him.

  Bloody Nora, this woman was going to challenge Jeremy’s self-control.

  He said something to her then went to his desk. Ramos pulled her hair back into a ponytail and walked to Max’s office.

  “Close the door,” he said.

  Settling in a chair across the desk from him, she sat straight, at attention.

  “When you first contacted me, you convinced me you’d be an asset to our team,” Max started, hoping to resolve the tension.

  “And Agent Barnes has convinced you otherwise?”

  “Excuse me? I must admit I’m concerned about your attitude.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “Here’s how it works. If you’re a member of Blackwell, you’re part of a team. A team only wins if all players work together.”

  “Did you give Agent Barnes this same lecture?”

  “That’s it, we’re done.”

  Mercedes’s heart slammed against her chest. “Done?”

  Max leveled his steely green eyes at her. “We no longer require your services.”

  “But—”

  “You pleaded with me to get on my team. I ignored rumors and took you at your word, assuming you were a professional with the determination I need from all of my agents. Instead, I get an argumentative woman who’s looking for a fight around every corner. That, we don’t need.” He studied the newspaper in front of him.

  Mercedes didn’t know what to do. Sometimes her big mouth was her worst enemy.

  “I’m sorry. I’m edgy because of my last case with the FBI. I’m used to being on the defensive, always having to prove myself.” She paused. “I’d like to try again. Please?” She hated the sound of the word coming from her lips. Mercedes never begged or pleaded, not since the dark days under Papi’s rule.

  He glanced up. “That chip on your shoulder has already affected the team.”

  “Jeremy Barnes complained to you?”

  “He doesn’t have to. I can tell by the way the two of you interact that there’s a problem.”

  “He’s the problem. You should have seen him this morning.” She tried to keep the judgment from her voice. “He could barely stand on his own two feet. His room was a mess, empty liquor bottles and food wrappers everywhere.”

  “Liquor bottles?”

  “All empty. Look,” she leaned forward in her chair. “I’m a good investigator. Don’t ask me to babysit a drunk.”

  “He’s not a drunk.”

  Great, another good old boys routine—protect your buddies, even if they’re losers.

  “Miss Ramos, I am in charge of Blackwell,” Max said. “Jeremy is my second in command and a highly respected investigator. You should be honored that I paired you with him. I’m asking you to keep an eye on him, assist him with the Weddle investigation and report back to me. This means you’ll have to work with him, not against him. Are you up to it?”

  “Yes,” she said without hesitation.

  “You’ll lose that chip on your shoulder?”

  “Yes, sir.” How on earth was she going to do that? Her resentment had fueled her drive to break out of the restrictive role females had in her culture. Her chip had become her best friend.

  “Very well.” He stood and, leaning heavily on his cane, went to the door.

  She knew he’d been injured by a terrorist bombing in London and had read about his leave of absence. She wondered if his superiors had forced him out since he wasn’t one hundred percent.

  “Agent Barnes, please join us,” Templeton said from the doorway.

  Mercedes didn’t miss the questioning glances from the other agents. She’d met Eddie Malone this morning, but the other two men were strangers.

  A short blond woman breezed into the main office. The men greeted her with warm smiles. Who was she? Another investigator?

  “Jeremy, Agent Ramos and I have come to an understanding,” Max said.

  Mercedes stood to gain equal footing in this conversation. Although she was nearly five eight, she felt much shorter than Barnes. She’d have to remember to wear her boots with the two-inch heels tomorrow.

  “And what would that be?” Agent Barnes asked.

  “I’m sorry if I made a bad impression,” she said. “I drove all night from California to get here, so I’m a bit cranky.”

  “A bit?” Jeremy pushed.

  “I said I was sorry.” Sheesh, what did this guy want from her?

  “Yes, you did,” Max interjected. “Let’s move on.”

  Clutching his brass-handled cane, Templeton led them into the main area. The cute little blonde glanced at him. Mercedes noticed his expression soften as he smiled in her direction.

  Men could always be counted on to fall for a pretty face. Sure, Mercedes had been told how beau tiful she was, but it meant nothing. She didn’t want to use her natural beauty to get places in life.

  Oh, you don’t have to worry about that, chica. So far it has only worked against you.

  “Quick catch-up,” Templeton said. “Agent Barnes was feeling poorly this morning which is why he missed the briefing.”

  “Blimey, guv, you finally break down and go drinking?”

  The group laughed at an inside joke made by the dark-haired man. Dark hair, dark eyes, a playful grin and a definite accent. Another Brit, Mercedes noted.

  “Some of you met Agent Ramos this morning,” Templeton started.

  Mercedes felt naked standing there, four men and the woman eyeing her.

  “She most recently worked with the FBI, before that Chicago PD. Agent Spinelli is also a former Chicago police officer.”

  A man nodded at her.

  “Status of the Weddle case. The boy’s been missing since Monday. We’ll investigate four possibilities—accidental drowning, a search is still underway by the coast guard. Runaway, kidnapping or an Internet seduction. We’ve got access to a local forensics lab?”

  “Working on it,” Spinelli said.

  “Good. Assignments are as follows—Eddie will check family computers.” Max looked at Barnes. “We’ll need the boy’s computer, which you can pick up when you interview friends and family in Mountain View.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Agent Finn, you’re on Internet cafés in town, any place the boy could get online and talk to friends. Spinelli, get with local authorities to see how cooperative they are. Cassie will look into similar cases to this one. Barnes and Ramos, interview the parents, they’re staying at Eagle Lodge, then meet me and Cassie at the beach near Eagle Rock.”

  “Are the Feds calling it an accidental drowning, guv?” Bobby asked.

  “Not yet, but that’s what we expect them to say by week’s end. Susanna and Doug Weddle have hired us to find their son, dead or alive. I think he’s still alive. In either event, he needs our help.”

  “Why do you think he’s alive?” Mercedes asked.

  “Instinct, Agent Ramos,” her boss said, then turned back to the group. “Questions so far?”

  Okay. They were all working on some guy’s gut instinct here? What an odd group. Such trust, such loyalty.

  She stifled the urge to point out that trusting one’s gut was not the way most FBI cases were run.

  Keep your mouth shut, chica. That’s the only way they’ll keep her on this team. This job will teach her self-control for sure.

  “Here’s what we know. The boy went missing on Monday. The bus left Eagle Rock Beach at one-thirty but they didn’t notice him missing until they re
turned to school at 3 p.m. when the nanny came to pick him up. Everyone’s got background in the folders, pertinent information about the family, friends and business associates. We’ll reconvene at six.”

  They broke up and Spinelli approached her. He was a husky man in mid-thirties, wearing an American flag lapel pin.

  “I was a detective with the Chicago PD. Which District did you work?” he said.

  “The two-two.”

  “Homicide?”

  “Started in patrol, then became a detective.”

  “Lucky girl.”

  He probably figured being female and a minority shot her right to the top of the detectives list. He wouldn’t be the only one to assume as much. Didn’t matter. She knew the truth. She’d studied endlessly and slept little in order to earn the top score on the exam.

  “Hello, Miss,” a man butted in. “Bobby Finn, at your service.”

  He shook her hand, a mischievous smile dimpling his cheek.

  “Bobby,” Max warned. “Behave.”

  “Don’t I always, guv?” He winked at Mercedes. “I can’t help it if women find me irresistible.”

  “Don’t waste your time, Agent Finn,” Barnes said, walking toward the door.

  Jerk. Didn’t he think her worthy of a little flirtation? Although she didn’t encourage it, she didn’t mind the attention. It’s not like she’d let it go anywhere.

  “Nice meeting you,” she said to Bobby. She could use an ally.

  Barnes disappeared outside and she raced after him feeling like a schoolgirl stalking her latest crush. She pushed through the door and caught up to him on the sidewalk. “We’re not driving?”

  “No. It’s a beautiful day.”

  It was strange to hear a man appreciate the weather. But then, this was a very odd man.

  He’d gone from sickly and weak, to confident and commanding in less than half an hour. He was hiding his hangover pretty well. Shoulders straight, head up, he walked with a casual, yet purposeful stride.

  “Do you have a notebook?” he asked.

  “I’m not your secretary.”

  He stopped and narrowed his guarded blue eyes at her. “I didn’t say you were. I left mine in my hotel room.”

  Cripes, she’d done it again.