Xander and Baldwin were deep in discussion when she joined them. Baldwin looked stricken.
“What’s the matter?” Sam asked.
“I’ve just put a call in to the department who would have been overseeing the communications from Doug Matcliff. He could have been using a variety of methods, from dead drops to an internal email system we had back then. If he was sending intelligence and no one was acting on it, no wonder he wasn’t willing to come in. He might have thought he’d been cast off, and would be prosecuted. Despite everything, he was FBI and had an obligation to us. He knew that.”
“Would he have been prosecuted? He’d left his assignment, sure, but wouldn’t this be seen as a simple abdication?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know what they would have done. We’ve had undercover agents go sideways before. Usually it’s drugs. They’re forced to participate so the people don’t get suspicious, and the next thing you know, they’re hooked. Religious movements can be very persuasive—they prey on the weak, the easily manipulated. It’s not unknown, but it’s very rare to lose an agent this way.”
“It doesn’t seem like it was his fault,” Sam said.
“You feel sorry for him, don’t you?” He wasn’t accusing, simply curious. He knew her well enough to know she sometimes became protective of the homicide victims she autopsied, as if she alone could put their ghosts to rest with the right answers.
“I don’t know. Maybe. I’m curious about him. Why he would put himself through all of this. He must have thought the punishment would have outstripped all the chances he was taking.”
“From what I’ve gathered, Matcliff was always a bit high-strung,” Baldwin said. “I’ve got a request in to see his military record, to find out why he mustered out. I will say this, he was much too young and inexperienced to be sent into an undercover operation of this magnitude, and he was compromised quickly. Especially if he knew this Adrian character. Maybe he would have been tossed in jail, who knows? Extenuating circumstances always play a part in these situations. But the word was he stopped communicating, and if that isn’t true, we’ve got a bigger problem on our hands.”
“Such as?”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “Let’s go talk to his old boss, Anne Carter, first. I want to hear from her before I make any judgments. By the way, your friend Fletcher is on his way over here. He needs to talk to Kaylie about Adrian.”
“Kaylie’s going to get some sleep, and we all need to do the same thing.”
“I don’t disagree.” He looked around the kitchen as if he were seeing it for the first time. “Anne Carter’s out in Fauquier County. We can head there first thing in the morning, before we go to Lynchburg. We’ll build from there.”
“Sounds good. It’s nearly 2:00 a.m. now. Let’s plan to leave at 8:00?”
“Works for me.”
“We’ve got room if you want to stay here.”
He smiled, the first genuine happy look she’d seen since they’d hugged at the Hoover Building hours ago. “I have a room at the Ritz-Carlton. All my stuff’s there. And Taylor’s probably champing at the bit for a check-in call.”
“Two in the morning—more likely she can’t sleep, is in the bonus room playing pool, drinking a beer and watching Red Eye on Fox.”
He laughed. “That’s true.”
“Tell her I love her and I’ll talk to her this weekend, okay? And, Baldwin. Thank you. Your help on this is invaluable.”
“You got it.”
There was a soft knock at the door and Thor gave a little whine. A friendly. Fletcher. Sam saw Baldwin out and let Fletcher in. The two men shook hands sleepily. This case was burning everyone out.
“Fletch, the girl’s asleep,” Sam said. “We need to wait until morning. I can make you some coffee, or a Scotch, if you want to hang around, but I’m about to fall over.”
He smiled. “I don’t want to wake her up, but let’s just check in case she hasn’t fallen asleep yet. You know how it is—adrenaline, worry, all that. There’s a big son of a bitch hunting her ass, and she might not be able to sleep.”
Sam shrugged. “She’s in the guest room. I’ll go check.”
She mounted the stairs quietly. She imagined Kaylie Rousch hadn’t had much rest for a while—underneath the bravado, there were lines of fatigue across her face, and deep black pockets under her eyes.
She opened the guest room door. The light was off, and there was no sound. She crept closer to the bed. She’d just whisper, and if Kaylie answered, great. If not—
An arm grabbed her shoulder and whirled her around, pushing her hard into the wall. The air left her, and as she struggled to breathe, she felt the hardness of a blade at her throat.
She began to struggle. Kaylie whispered harshly, “Stop it, right now. I’ll kill you if I have to. I don’t want to, so don’t force me to be rash.”