Outside the Law

by Michelle Karl

  Color flushed Yasmine’s cheeks, and she raised the cup to her lips as though trying to hide behind it. “I don’t know.”

  That was disappointing. If only she had some clue, some inkling of evidence how this was possible, because right now, the accusation came off like a crazy theory from a person whose imagination worked overtime. And if they eliminated the number-fudging angle, it left one other theory.

  Noel braced himself for her anger. “Mina, can you tell me what you were actually doing in Amar?”

  She coughed, spitting the tea from her mouth back into the cup. “Excuse me?” Her brown eyes flashed at him. “I lived with my family. Went to the American University of Amar. I graduated cum laude with a degree in psychology and an offer to start work at a local practice in Kerat, the capital city.”

  “That’s it?” She was holding something back, he could tell. As recruits, they’d done enough testing on interrogation and reading body language in Quantico that the information was at the forefront of his mind. “I know you’re omitting important information, Yasmine. There are people after you, trying to kill you, and we need to know why. I’m just exploring all the angles here.”

  She looked away, resting her lips on the rim of the cup. “I joined the military.”

  It was his turn to stare. “You what?”

  She raised her chin and looked at him with defiance. “I joined the military, Noel. Learned how to fight, how to shoot, how to defend others.”

  “But...why?”

  “I joined with a friend.” She placed her empty cup on the side of the couch. “I had a choice. If I was going to stay in Amar to live and work, to take the position offered at the practice after graduation, I required dual citizenship. Since my mother’s family is Amaran and I lived there for years while I was a dependent, the only additional requirement was a year of military service. It’s no different than the rule in many countries in the world. Plus, the military there has strong support from the United States. There is a lot of similar training and shared ethics, so I felt comfortable being a part of it.”

  And yet her behavior still seemed evasive and closed off when she spoke about her time there. She’d pulled her arms into her sides and hadn’t looked at him once during the entire explanation.

  “Were you deployed? On active duty?” Maybe she’d made an enemy while in the field.

  Yasmine shook her head. “No, never.”

  “And you’re sure there’s nothing else?”

  Silence stretched from one side of the room to the other as she avoided looking him in the eye. What could she possibly be holding back from him? And why would she do it if it could help them figure out why someone was bent on ending her life?

  A knock on the door startled them both. It opened without the person on the other side waiting for an invitation. Nia, the receptionist, poked her head in the room. “Sorry to interrupt, but Special Agent Black? Captain Simcoe has news for you regarding yesterday’s incident.”

  “Thanks, Nia.” He rose, enjoying the stretch in his aching legs. All those hours in the hospital chair hadn’t done much to help his own bruises heal. “I’ll be out in a moment.”

  Yasmine pushed herself upright, and Noel didn’t miss the grimace on her face. The pain medication could do only so much. She’d have to be on top of taking it regularly or she’d be in a world of agony. “I’m coming,” she said.

  “No, you’re not.”

  She stood before he could make her lie back down, and as much as he wanted to yell at her to make better choices, she was a grown woman and knew her body’s limits. At least, he hoped she did. Now that he knew she’d spent a year in the military, however, things about her were becoming a whole lot clearer—like how she’d managed to escape an entire team of black-clad shooters in her apartment, and why she hadn’t flinched when he’d drawn his gun in front of her.

  “Suit yourself.” He held the door open and she exited first. As she passed, he caught another whiff of cinnamon and honey. He’d have to ask his mother to bring something home from the bakery so he could try it. If Yasmine’s baked goods tasted as delicious as she smelled, her business would be a hit in no time.

  They entered Captain Simcoe’s office and sat, Yasmine keeping her back straight so she wouldn’t compress her ribs. The captain glanced at Yasmine with concern, then at Noel. “Listen, Black. I’m keeping you in the loop because your uncle down in Pennsylvania was one of the best officers I ever served with, back in my early days. And I know you spent a few years on the force before moving on, so you know how to get along with the fine men and women here at the station. I don’t want to see you flounder on your new path, but you have to promise not to interfere. This isn’t the FBI’s case, but you may be able to get a line on something once you hear what I have to say. Can you keep a lid on it?”

  Noel clamped down on his immediate reaction to agree with the captain, recognizing this as the kind of gray area where consulting with his FBI mentor would be the prudent move. Stepping on toes or cutting corners was not the way he wanted to start his career. “As long as there’s nothing illegal about me hearing this information or keeping details from my people, I’m on board, but I will have to speak with my mentor about it, however vaguely. As soon as I hear anything—”

  “You’ll pass it up. I know. You’re new. Trust me, this is how it works. So, let me break it down for you. Toxicology came back on the shooter with what killed him.” The captain slapped a manila folder down on the desk and slid it toward Noel. “Cyanide tooth. Back molar. The kind of stuff you see in spy movies, only it’s real. No joke.”

  Noel pressed the tips of his fingers against the folder. “So it’s officially a suicide. No one got hurt and you could charge him with attempted murder for the shooting, but since he’s dead, there’s no one to prosecute. Did you find out who he is?”

  The captain inhaled slowly and exhaled as he folded his hands together and placed them on the desk. “This is where the situation gets interesting. Open it.”

  Noel glanced at Yasmine, who shrugged. He flipped open the folder. The top sheet was a profile of the shooter, whom he recognized from the black-and-white photo. “This is definitely the guy.”

  “Look closer,” said Captain Simcoe. “Take in the dates. The occupation.”

  Noel noticed Yasmine straining to read the sheet from where she sat and adjusted his chair closer to her so she wouldn’t have to move and shift her ribcage. He ran his finger down the page and froze on one line. “He was an elite sniper for the US Army.” He didn’t read the rest of the line out loud. He couldn’t.

  The sniper who’d taken a shot at Yasmine yesterday, who had swallowed a cyanide pill to escape capture, did not exist.

  According to the file in Noel’s hands, the man had been killed in action three years ago.

  SIX

  “That can’t be right.” Next to him, Yasmine stared at the photo. “There’s been a mistake. This can’t be the same person.”

  “But it is,” said the captain. “And we still haven’t found the vehicle that put you in the hospital. There’s something strange going on here, and I don’t like it one bit.”

  Noel slammed his hand on the desk, frustration mounting. As far as he understood it, there was very little he could do right now to help. “Look, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m new at this whole Bureau thing, but maybe my mentor will know if there’s anything the FBI can do. He’s located out of the Buffalo office, where I’ve been assigned. With a military connection, maybe we can take a terrorism angle on it. The sniper attack and the car crash happened when I was with Miss Browder, so that alone might be enough to give me permission to assist your officers.”

  “Do it.” Simcoe leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “We’ll take any help we can get. This is usually a quiet town, and we’ve already had to call in extra officers from Buffalo to give us a hand. You may be new
to the badge, son, but that also means you can look at evidence and situations with fresh eyes. Maybe draw connections that we jaded uniforms haven’t considered.”

  “Maybe take my reports seriously, for a start,” Yasmine muttered.

  “I appreciate that, sir. I’ll give my mentor a call now. I briefed him about the accident and attacks earlier this morning for the sake of transparency, but maybe he has some suggestions regarding this new information.” Noel stood and dialed Special Agent John Crais for the second time that day. He’d spoken briefly with Crais while at the hospital to let him know what was going on and to ask some basic advice, but since the local police were on top of things and the FBI had no cause to get involved, Crais had advised him only to be observant and learn what he could. Now Noel paced back and forth in the small office while the phone rang. Both the captain and Yasmine watched him expectantly, which didn’t help the nerves that already roiled inside his stomach. After five rings, his mentor’s voice came through the other end.

  “Morning, Black. How’s the situation?”

  “Hey, Crais. Stable but uncertain. We moved the woman out of the hospital about an hour ago, and she’s secure at the local police station.”

  “Got it. Glad she’s safe, but Noel, you’re there only to support as a friend, right?” The tone of Crais’s voice grew gentle but firm. “Whatever the cause of her brother’s death, it’s not your problem. It’s tragic and I’m sorry it happened, but we don’t investigate local murders. I repeat this to you because even after leaving the Academy, new agents sometimes have their priorities askew until they get themselves in the rhythm of the Bureau.”

  “I know, I know.” Noel glanced at Yasmine, who still studied the picture of the supposedly dead man who’d attacked them. “But what if I were to tell you that the man who took a sniper shot at Miss Browder was former military?”

  “I don’t see how—”

  “According to government records, he was killed in action three years ago on a mission. His remains were never recovered, but the reports were filed and commendations made. Yesterday, that same man took a shot at Miss Browder and swallowed a cyanide pill to evade capture. Toxicology confirmed cause of death.”

  Crais grunted, and Noel waited through a long pause before his mentor spoke. “That does change things. But not for us. That’s the kind of bizarre situation that falls under military investigation.”

  Noel bit down on his tongue, careful to choose his words before speaking. The last thing he needed was for his mentor to think he wanted to operate outside the law, especially on his second day with a badge in his pocket. But if there was anything he could do to keep his childhood friend safe, to give her some answers and some peace of mind about these attacks, he would do it.

  “Suppose it gets reported to the military and they decide to investigate,” he said, speaking slowly. “How soon would that get underway?”

  Crais’s response was a clear hedge of the question. “Hard to say. Two, three days? It depends.”

  “On what?”

  “Do you have any evidence linking the sniper to the other attacks? Anything to connect them? Otherwise it looks like an isolated incident.”

  “You’ve got to be joking.” Noel heard his tone rising, and he tried to rein it back in. “The car accident, hospital attack and even the attack on her apartment can’t be considered unrelated to the sniper. Not when they all happened within such a brief window of time.”

  “We’re dealing with a situation outside our control here. The military will likely claim responsibility for investigating only the attack that directly concerns one of their own. You don’t have the vehicle that hit you, and you mentioned earlier this morning that the hospital security cameras were too low-grade to use facial recognition software. Does the police department there have a sketch artist? Did anyone get a good look at that guy? If the local police can draw another connection to the military, all involved parties will have to take a hard look at everything that’s happened. And if the military takes over, you’re not getting answers anytime soon. They have a hard line on information sharing during active cases.”

  Noel swallowed his disappointment and charged forward. “I saw him, sir. There’s an artist coming in from Buffalo, and I’ll speak to him when he gets here. But there’s one other question.”

  “Fire away. This is what I’m here for. Though I certainly didn’t expect you to be mired in bullets before you even set foot in the office for your first day.”

  Me either, Noel thought. Yasmine had turned her attention from the photo back to him. Captain Simcoe waited patiently, sifting through paperwork on his desk. Noel was grateful for police help, but resources in this small town were limited. If someone was coming after Yasmine specifically, the persistence of her attackers so far certainly didn’t indicate a willingness to give up and leave a job undone. Her life remained in danger, and the longer no one did anything about it, the more difficult it would be to keep her safe. He had one final angle to play with his mentor, and though it was a long shot, he had to try.

  He turned his back to Yasmine and lowered his voice. “When I explained the situation surrounding Daniel Browder’s death to you earlier, I think I neglected to emphasize a few things. The facility where he worked—their contract was to test pieces of military equipment.”

  “Yes, you mentioned that.” Crais’s tone had turned a little terse, and Noel didn’t blame him. John Crais likely had better things to do with his time than deal with a paranoid new agent, but Noel plunged on regardless. Backing down from an angle he felt strongly about was not a good quality in an FBI agent, either, so even if Crais disagreed with his assertions, he would still listen and offer advice.

  “The testing requirements are handed down by the Department of Defense, and the reports are turned in to someone at the Department directly. I don’t know who receives them as I haven’t taken this any further, but it occurred to me—what if there’s something to Miss Browder’s suspicions surrounding her brother’s death? What if there really was something going on there? We have a soldier killed in action who reappeared alive and well only to kill himself, plus these other attacks. What if there’s a connection between Miss Browder and her brother’s work at the facility, some kind of reporting crime between the facility and the Department of Defense?”

  Crais grew silent again for several moments. “That’s a long shot, Black. But that would definitely provide us with cause to investigate. We could probably make the case that it falls under federal crime, but we’re going to need more than that. We can’t get a warrant to investigate the place or seize any records without probable cause. And all you’ve given me so far is conjecture. Good conjecture, so I’m not denying it’s a possibility, but this is as far as we can go with what we’ve got.”

  Noel pinched the bridge of his nose. He should have taken the ibuprofen they’d offered him at the hospital. He had his own bruises from the car accident, but adrenaline after the attack in the hospital had kept him going until now. The possibility that he might not be able to help Yasmine at all, however, was sucking the energy right out of him.

  “Can I go talk to the facility manager? Do I have the right to do that, or are my hands fully tied? A woman’s life is on the line. I can’t sit by and wait for a bullet to find its mark. Isn’t there anything I can do?”

  “I’ll go.”

  Noel spun around to see Yasmine standing up, her hand on the back of her chair and her expression resolute.

  “Tell him I’m going to the facility,” she said. “I need to know the truth about Daniel’s death, and I want to hear it from the manager himself.”

  “No,” Noel said, horror rising in his stomach and bringing a wave of nausea at the thought of Yasmine returning to the scene of Daniel’s death. Despite her outward show of strength, she couldn’t hide the pain behind her eyes, brought on by her own suggestion. “That’s a bad idea.”


  “I’m the only one who can walk in there and get some answers, and I’ll go whether you choose to come with me or not.”

  Her free hand rested on her hip, and Noel felt the blood drain from his face as her sincerity sank in. She would go no matter what he said to talk her out of it—but truthfully, he didn’t want to. She deserved answers, and her announcement could be the break he needed to get Crais on board with his involvement.

  “Did you catch that, sir?”

  Crais’s sigh from the other end told Noel that Crais had indeed heard Yasmine’s declaration of intent. “She can’t be dissuaded?”

  “I don’t believe so, sir. She does have a foreign military background, so she won’t be walking in helpless. But she is injured from the accident. Broken ribs are the worst of it.”

  “Well, Black, you’re not due to report for work until next Monday. I can’t authorize you to visit the facility as a representative of the FBI, but I can’t stop you from accompanying her on your own time to keep an eye on her. You’re certain she’ll go whether you’re with her or not?”

  Noel shot another glance at Yasmine, who watched him with one raised eyebrow. Yes, she’d do whatever she wanted. She’d proven that the day before when she’d been the one to race out the door in pursuit of the sniper, despite Noel’s warnings. And her instincts had turned out to be right.

  “She’s definitely going to go, sir.”

  “Fine. Be careful, Black. You’re new, inexperienced. If you go on your own accord as backup to look out for her, you’ll need to make good use of your training. Read the situation and the people at every step. Stay alert. Don’t get caught off guard.”

  The vise clamped around Noel’s stomach eased just a touch. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” Crais growled. “I haven’t done anything, and like I said, you’re not on the clock, so I can’t stop you going on your own time. I can only make recommendations, which I’m doing in this case because you’re Academy-fresh and you could use experience with questioning and observation in a real-world context, not because I think this has legs. I don’t, not yet, but watch your back, Black. Remember that, as a new agent, a misstep is going to cost a lot more than it would cost someone like me who’s been around awhile.”