Circling the enormous crime scene took time and only increased the feeling of sweaty isolation she felt from her colleagues. Why was no one else buying the idea Van had been murdered? Was she deluding herself? Had they known him so much better than she had? Were her instincts nothing but heartbreak and wishful thinking?
She hadn’t been lying to Aldrich about feeling woozy though. She climbed into her Bucar and drank out of the water bottle she kept in the cupholder, placing a hand on her stomach which gurgled and groaned. The headache had grown and stabbed her brain like a knife in her skull. She popped a couple of pills from her purse with another mouthful of water and squeezed her eyes closed for a few seconds’ respite.
Another glance at the Evidence Recovery Technicians searching on their hands and knees through the wet grass made her more determined than ever to figure out the truth. Van hadn’t believed in coincidence. She saluted the coffin with a sad smile. “Don’t worry, Van. I’ve got your back.”
He’d tell her to keep digging until everything began to make sense—and right now nothing made sense. Not Van’s supposed suicide, not the shooter at his funeral, not the seeming indifference of his fellow agents, especially the one with intriguing dark blue eyes.
*
The Chief Negotiator of the FBI and his immediate boss, Unit Chief Quentin Savage, looked up from the report he was reading when Dominic walked into his office late that afternoon.
“Heard about the shooting.” Savage’s gaze was thorough and assessing. “Did you know the victim?”
Dominic sat heavily and rested his elbows on his knees. He’d showered and changed into a spare shirt and suit he kept in his go-bag. He’d thrown the bloodstained clothes in the garbage. “We were friends at the New York Field Office. The guy was married with kids.”
“I’m sorry.” Savage leaned back in his chair. “Do they have any idea as to the shooter’s identity or motive?”
Dominic shook his head. So far, they had a big fat zero. “I’d like permission to work the case.”
“Denied.”
Dominic looked up. “But—”
“I need you here, Dominic. We’re already overstretched, and you’re one of our best negotiators. Let the street agents deal with the murder investigation and if they need our services, they’ll call.”
Dominic opened his mouth to argue but then closed it again. Savage was right. The Crisis Negotiation Unit was highly specialized and perpetually overstretched. There were never enough agents. Never enough time.
“I understand if you need to take some personal days…” Savage let the statement hang even though he’d just made it impossible to ask for time off.
“I’m fine.” Dominic would have been more fine if some asshole hadn’t just shot dead one of his friends at his mentor’s funeral.
“Hey.” Charlotte Blood poked her head around Savage’s door, her expression a mass of sympathy. “I heard you’ve had a terrible day. You need anything?”
Dominic shook his head, knowing questions and concern were inevitable, but not ready to talk about what had happened or how he felt about it. He’d go see the Bureau shrink and do the mandatory hot wash and talk about his feelings. He’d tell the doc what she wanted to hear and get the all-clear. God knew, he’d visited a lot of shrinks growing up. He knew the drill.
“A bunch of us are going to grab a beer and dinner after work. You guys wanna join us? It might help to be around friends.” Charlotte was the bleeding heart of the unit, one who could bring stone-cold killers to their knees with a bit of active listening and emotional labeling. She’d honed empathy to the sharpness of a 14th Century Samurai blade and wielded it ruthlessly.
Quentin smiled at Charlotte, and she smiled back. She was somehow impossible to resist. If Dominic was ever in a tight corner that required a negotiator, he’d want Charlotte doing the talking. He pitied the guy she fell for because he wouldn’t stand a chance. For some inexplicable reason, his mind flashed to the image of Ava Kanas on that rooftop looking so isolated and aloof—the opposite of Charlotte’s all-encompassing warmth. He pushed the image aside. The inexperienced rookie was her own worst enemy.
“Unfortunately, I have to write my keynote for that conference in Indonesia next week,” Quentin grimaced. For all he was considered one of the best in the field of negotiation tactics, he did not enjoy the spotlight.
“What about you, Dominic?” Charlotte asked again.
“Not tonight, Char,” he told her. “I have some case files to catch up on.”
Quentin frowned at him. Charlotte’s smile dimmed.
“We’ll be there for a while. It’s Eban’s birthday. Join us if you get hungry or want company.” She sent him a worried look before she left which made him feel warm and guilty all at the same time.
Yup, the woman knew how to twist the heartstrings. And the fact she genuinely cared was why she got away with it, even with the most hardened criminals and hard-assed FBI personnel.
Dominic stood to leave.
“Where are we on the Alexander case?” Savage asked quickly.
The Alexanders were a retired couple whose dreams of sailing round the world had been shattered when they’d been kidnapped in the South China Sea five months ago.
It reminded Dominic he wasn’t the only person in the world having a bad day. “No new updates as of last night. The negotiator we have in the embassy in Jakarta has another week before his rotation ends.”
“See if he can hold off on his return for another week and meet me in Jakarta. I’ll get an onsite brief then. Then call State and see if there has been any update in the security situation in the region.”
“Gotcha.” Dominic was aware what his boss was doing. Keeping him busy. Not letting him dwell on the awful events of today.
He headed to his office two doors down, which he shared with another negotiator who’d just returned from secondment at SIOC at HQ.