I barely recognized Jeremy. Sitting before me was not the man I knew from UVA. His head was shaved, the skin around his eyes was dark, and he was much thinner than he’d been in college. I even wondered if he might be sick.
Declan and I sat across the table from him.
“Hi, Jeremy,” I said. “Do you remember me?”
“I know who you are,” he said. His voice was gruff and his hands shook slightly. He looked exhausted.
“Do you know why I’m here?”
“I assume you want to know why I shot Bradley Archer. Or why I was part of the plot to shoot up that Georgetown bar.”
I glanced at Declan, who didn’t take his eyes off of Jeremy. He wasn’t taking any chances that Jeremy might try something.
“Actually, I’d like to know what Woodford Clay Harrison has on you that would make you sit in here and take the fall for him.”
Jeremy’s eyes narrowed in surprise. Then his lips curled slightly just before he threw his head back and laughed.
“Is that funny?” I asked.
“You think you’re going to get me to admit that Woody set me up?” Jeremy’s hands tightened against the cuffs, making them clank against the metal table. He leaned into the table. “You are hopelessly out of your league, intellectually and tactically,” he spat.
I didn’t move from my position. Declan stiffened beside me just slightly.
“You and all those other feds they sent in here are pathetic at your jobs. Woody Harrison has been playing you for years. And he’ll continue to do so. He’s been playing all of us.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “Who all has he been playing?”
Jeremy leaned back in his chair as far as he could. “Guard!” he yelled.
The officer who had led us to the room poked his head in.
“We’re done here,” Jeremy said.
And that was that. The officer unlocked Jeremy’s cuffs from the table and his legs from the floor. He stood Jeremy and led him to the door.
“Just answer me this,” I said.
Just before Jeremy crossed the threshold of the interrogation room, he turned back to us.
“Did you pull the trigger that killed Bradley Archer?”
Jeremy squinted as if he was struggling to see me, or trying to read my intentions. Then he smiled. “I did whatever Woody says I did.”
“What the hell did he mean by that?” I leaned back against the headrest as a driver drove us to the airport.
“What could Harrison have on Jeremy?” Declan asked. “Could he be threatening Jeremy’s family?”
I shook my head. “Seems unlikely, since according to Mike, Jeremy’s only family is an elderly mother in a nursing home in upstate New York, suffering from dementia.”
We rode the rest of the way to the airport in silence, each absorbed in our own thoughts. It was dark already, and with everything that had happened this weekend, I was exhausted.
As our driver pulled up outside the hangar where Declan’s plane was being prepared for departure, another car was waiting for us.
“We have company,” Declan said.
Doors opened on both the driver’s side and the passenger’s side of the neighboring vehicle. Special Agent Carlos Salazar exited the driver’s side. One look at his face told me he was deeply shaken by Mike’s death.
I got out and hugged him. “I’m so sorry.”
He nodded into my neck.
Mike’s wife, Marie, circled around the back of the car and joined us.
“Marie,” I said. A lump immediately formed in my throat. Declan placed a hand to my back. “I’m so terribly sorry for your loss.”
Tears streaked her face. “Mike thought very highly of you,” she said. “He left instructions in case…” She looked away for a moment, unable to speak. The cold wind didn’t help with the tears. “In case something happened to him, Mike left instructions.”
“I’ve got a box of files in the trunk,” Carlos said. “They’re copies of what Mike and I had been working on. Some of Mike’s notes never made it into the FBI’s system.”
Marie gripped my forearm. “You have to catch this son of a bitch, Brooke.”
I swallowed. Then I nodded. “I plan to.” I turned to Carlos. “Are they taking you off the case?”
“I met with your father this morning. I’ve been ordered to a desk while I’m reassigned a partner. I was told to offer you support from here.”
“I could use it,” I said. “I have to get back to Kentucky for now because someone decided to shoot up my office building.”
“I heard about that,” Carlos said. “I hope no one was hurt too badly.”
“Unfortunately, there was at least one death, and two people were hospitalized with life-threatening injuries. My deputy director is already there.”
“We should get going,” Declan said beside me. “Our plane is ready, and it’s getting late.”
“I’ll get the box for you,” Carlos said.
While Declan carried Carlos’s box of documents onto the plane, and the pilot himself came out to retrieve our bags, I said my goodbyes to Carlos and Marie. I told Marie I hoped to come back for the funeral. I didn’t want to tell her that I knew what she was going through. Though I’d lost a spouse before, I could never know what she was going through. Anyone who loses a loved one brings all his or her own memories and baggage to the grieving process. I only knew Marie through Mike, and even then, only through what Mike shared. I knew that they were very happy together, and I was certain they had both been looking forward to raising their child together.
Now, Marie would face raising a child alone. At least for now. But I was happy she would still have that piece of Mike with her.
I boarded the plane and settled into a seat next to Declan. The pilot wasted no time getting the Gulfstream 5 out onto the runway.
“My heart breaks for Marie,” I said.
Declan grabbed my hand, brought it to his lips, and after kissing my knuckles, kept my hand sandwiched between his. “I know. Mine too.”
“I plan to get Romeo,” I said. “Whatever it takes, I’m going to nail that bastard.”
I closed my eyes and listened to the engine roar. As the plane sped down the runway and took off, I snuggled in next to Declan and tried to get some much-needed sleep.
Chapter 19
Brooke
The first floor of our office building was crawling with men in navy FBI jackets and state police uniforms. They were conducting interviews with employees and witnesses, and an evidence response team was cataloging all the physical evidence. Most of the building was made up of Kentucky’s transportation cabinet. But the first floor of the transportation cabinet building housed the Kentucky Office of Homeland Security, the fusion center, and the SCIF—Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility—where those with clearance could access classified information in a secure environment. Access to the KOHS suite was strictly limited to KOHS employees and employees of the Office of Highway Safety, who shared the technology available inside the fusion center.
Ty showed me the scene. The glass around the fusion center conference room had been shattered, and it appeared that much of the equipment inside the operations room was damaged as well.
“Most of the damage is contained to this floor,” Ty said, “but the shooter made it upstairs just before police arrived, so there’s some damage there as well, plus two more shooting victims.”
“What do we know about the shooter?”
“She was a woman. Worked for the transportation cabinet.”
“She worked in this building, but not for KOHS? Then how did she get access to our suite?”
“Apparently she was recently reassigned to the Office of Highway Safety.”
“So if she worked for the transportation cabinet, we’re not considering this a terrorist attack.”
“No.”
“Disgruntled employee?”
“That hasn’t been confirmed.”
“What’s the st
atus on the wounded?”
“The other custodian died this morning,” Ty said. “That makes two employees dead, with four people in the hospital: Jude, the two people on the second floor, and the shooter herself. I’m unclear on her condition. I only know that she was shot and survived. No one will give me a straight answer beyond that.”
“Do they know if the shooter had help? Are we worried about another shooter?”
“Don’t know.”
“It’s hard to believe a single person did all this. And a woman at that.” And on a Sunday. Why would she strike on a day when so few employees were working?
“Yes. It doesn’t fit the profile, does it?”
It truly didn’t. “Is Sam here today?” I asked.
“She’s at the hospital with Jude. Carson said she was there when he stopped by last night, and when he checked in again this morning, she answered Jude’s phone and said he was sleeping. I told her to take the day off.”
“Good,” I said. “That’s good. She’s been through enough this year.”
“She was standing right next to Jude when they heard the shots. He actually threw himself on Sam, most likely saving her life.”
“Are they admitting they’re seeing each other yet?”
“Nope. According to both, they’re just friends.” Ty smiled.
“They’ll admit it when they’re ready.”
I spotted Erica Marshall, special agent in charge of the FBI’s Louisville division, talking to Marti outside my office. Marti and Aidan had driven back to Kentucky yesterday; Marti had said they were looking forward to stopping in Lexington, Virginia, for lunch, and enjoying the long scenic drive through the mountains. Ty and I walked over to join them.
“Let me get this straight,” Erica was saying to Marti as we approached her from behind. “You, Director Fairfax, and Deputy Director Jamison, were all in Virginia at the time of the shooting?”
“So you see, Special Agent Marshall,” I said, “none of us could be guilty of this.”
Erica turned. “I… I wasn’t suggesting—”
“Then why are you grilling one of my employees like she’s a suspect?”
Erica opened her mouth, shut it, then said, “Is there some place we can talk?”
“Of course.” I gestured toward my office. “I think you know your way to my office. I assume it’s acceptable to have my deputy director with me. We’re both trying to get up to speed.”
“Want some coffee?” Marti asked me, then shot an evil eye in Erica’s direction.
“You would be my very best friend,” I said softly in answer. I turned to the others. “Would either of you like coffee?”
Erica refused. Ty already had a mug.
“Just me,” I said to Marti.
We went into my office, and I closed the door. Erica and Ty each took a chair, and I shrugged out of my jacket and sat at my desk.
“What can you tell me about the shooter?” I asked Erica.
“First, let’s go ahead and get this fight out of the way. Your father has already called and told me that this is my case.”
“And it is,” I said calmly.
Ty angled his head, studying me. It wouldn’t take him long to figure out that he and I didn’t have the time or the resources to investigate this case ourselves.
“And before you—” She blinked. “It is? You’re not going to fight me on this?”
“Nope. But I’m going to respectfully ask for the details of the shooter and to be kept informed of any new developments. And if I can help you in any way, I will.”
“Okay.” The SAC was clearly taken aback at my relinquishing of the case so easily. She was maybe even a little skeptical. “Well, what we know currently is this: the shooter is a woman. Deborah Farrell. Age forty-six. A twenty-five-year employee of the Kentucky Transportation Cabinet, moved last week to the Office of Highway Safety. Recently divorced. She was shot in the hip, and she’s currently at the University of Kentucky Hospital recovering from surgery. She’ll probably need rehabilitation, but that’s up to the doctors and the courts to figure out. For now, she’s being heavily guarded in an undisclosed location within the hospital.”
I traded a look with Ty, and I knew he understood what I was thinking. I couldn’t imagine it would be difficult to discover her location.
Erica continued. “Her ex-husband is shocked. Says he had no idea what could have made his ex-wife snap like that. According to him, she’s never been violent. She’s a wonderful mother of two. One is in high school, the other is a freshman at college.”
“What do her co-workers say?”
Erica looked down at her notes. “Farrell was a career state employee. Respected by her co-workers.”
“Was she depressed?” Ty asked. “Suicidal, maybe?”
“We’ve found no evidence to suggest that, and no one has described her as having any sort of mental health problem.” Erica checked her notes again. “Farrell was a good employee. She was passed over for a raise with her job duty reassignment, but most people working in Kentucky state government have been turned down for raises lately.”
“So it was no surprise,” Ty said.
“Was she liked?” I asked.
“Very much. She brought her lunch most days, as do a lot of employees here, but she liked to go out to lunch on Fridays with a group who work in the building. Every one of those people is shocked by this incident.”
“It sure doesn’t seem to make sense,” I said.
Marti entered with my coffee. When she was gone, Erica said, “I was very sorry to hear about Agent Donaldson. I know the two of you were friends.”
“We were. Thank you,” I said.
“Your dad said you might be asking me for some help on something. Told me to be available to you.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll let you know.” I kept my reaction from creeping up on my face. The last thing I wanted was for Erica Marshall to send over a team of rookie agents to scare off Romeo. I wanted to draw him out, not send him into hiding again. “But it sounds like you have your hands full with this case.” I stood and held out a hand. “I hope you’ll let me know if anything else comes up.”
“Of course. You’ll be one of my first calls.”
I couldn’t tell if she was lying, but my buzzing phone distracted me from caring. I pulled it from my pocket. I had a message from an unrecognizable number that I assumed was Romeo. “Let the games begin,” I said under my breath.
“Excuse me?” Erica said.
I jerked my head up. “Oh. Sorry. Nothing.” I waved a hand. “I’ll touch base with you soon. Thank you for the update.” I grabbed my car keys and handed them to Ty. “You mind getting the box out of the back seat of my car?”
“Of course.” He was staring at me, questioning my distraction.
“See you soon, Special Agent Marshall.” I practically shoved them both out the door before pulling up the text from Romeo.
No words. Just a video.
Romeo never sent me a video of anything good. I was already feeling a panic bubbling up inside my chest. I sat in my desk chair and pushed play.
At first it was dark, but not pitch black. I couldn’t make out what I was looking at. Then…
“Hello, Agent Donaldson.” It was Romeo’s raspy voice.
“What do you want?”
I gasped at the sound of Mike’s voice.
“First, nice and easy, pick up your gun by the grip, with your index finger and thumb only, lower it to the ground, and slide it over to me. One wrong move, and I’ll put a round between your eyes.”
I could hear their voices, but I couldn’t make out anything in the picture.
“Now your secondary weapon,” Romeo demanded.
I heard clunking and shuffling noises. Mike was handing over his weapons. A lump formed in my throat. He had to have known. And he must have felt he had no choice—because a law enforcement officer considered it a mortal failure to hand over his or her service weapons.
“Now walk,” Romeo ordered.
“Walk where?” Mike asked.
Ty entered my office carrying the file box. I motioned for him to set it on the sofa across the room.
“What are you watching?” Ty asked.
I shushed him.
“Toward the tractor,” Romeo ordered. “Keep going. Enter the stall.”
“Who is that?” Ty said. His face mirrored mine. “Is that Harrison?” He came around the desk so that he could watch the video over my shoulder.
I nodded, keeping my eyes on the video. Suddenly, a light filled the space—the barn stall where my dad kept watch on foaling broodmares.
Mike entered the space, then turned to face Romeo. “It doesn’t have to be this way,” he said.
Tears sprang to my eyes.
“Oh, God,” Ty said, placing a hand over his mouth.
“What way is that?” Romeo asked. He remained off screen, behind the camera, but there was no doubt in my mind that it was him.
“He’s toying with him,” I said, my voice catching in my throat. I reached back and grabbed Ty’s hand.
“You don’t have to kill me,” Mike pleaded. “I’m ready to hand over this case to someone else, someone who will have to start from scratch. I won’t share any evidence I have on you. I have a child on the way. I won’t do anything to jeopardize my unborn child or my wife. Come on, Harrison. I know we can work something out.”
“The way you and Teddy worked something out?” Romeo asked.
Mike cocked his head. Confusion eased into his features, then recognition. “Wha—”
“Shut up!” Romeo yelled. Ty and I both flinched.
“What did he mean by that?” I shot Ty a backwards glance.
Ty shook his head.
Mike backed up slightly. His eyes widened with heart-wrenching fear. One shot rang out. A dark hole formed just above Mike’s right eye. When the second shot sounded less than a second later, Mike clutched his chest and fell to his knees. A hint of blood spread onto his white tuxedo shirt, peeking out just below his jacket.
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