“I’m okay,” I said. Lia refrained from commenting on my answer to Agent Sterling’s question. Beside us, Sloane tilted her head to one side, staring at Sterling with a perplexed look on her face.
“You came back,” Sloane told the agent, her forehead crinkling. “The probability of your return was quite low.”
Agent Sterling turned back to the boxes on her bed. “When the odds are bad,” she said, removing something from one of them, “you change the rules.”
The look on Sloane’s face left very little doubt that she found that statement to be somewhat dubious. I was too busy wondering what Sterling meant when she referenced changing the rules to spare a moment’s thought to probabilities or odds.
You’ve been buried alive in a glass coffin with a sleeping cobra on your chest. I thought of the game Sterling had played with Scarlett Hawkins. Impossible situations required impossible solutions. Veronica Sterling had come here largely intending to disband this program, and now she was moving in.
What was I missing?
“This mean you’re done running?”
I turned to see Judd standing in the doorway behind us. I wondered how long he’d been there and turned the question over in my mind. He’d watched Agent Sterling grow up. When she’d left the FBI and turned her back on this program, she’d put distance between them, too.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Sterling told him. She walked over to her nightstand and unwrapped the object in her hand, discarding the tissue paper.
A picture frame.
I knew, before attempting to get a closer look, what I would see in the frame.
Two little girls, one dark-haired, one light. Both of them beamed at the camera. The smaller one—Scarlett—was missing her two front teeth.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Sterling said a second time.
I glanced at Dean, knowing instinctively, even before our eyes met, that his thoughts would be operating in tandem with mine. Sterling had spent a long time keeping her emotions on lockdown. She’d spent a long time trying not to care, trying to keep the person she used to be in check.
“Not to interrupt a touching moment,” Michael said, his voice lined with enough bite to make me think he wasn’t talking just about the moment between Sterling and Judd—he was referring to the synchrony between Dean and me. “But I detect a hint of tension in your jaw, Agent.” Michael’s eyes flitted left and right, up and down, cataloging everything about Sterling’s posture and expression. “Not stress so much as…anticipation.”
The doorbell rang then, and Sterling straightened, looking slightly more formidable than she had a moment before. “Visitors,” she told Judd briefly. “Plural.”
Briggs arrived first, followed by Director Sterling. I’d assumed that was it, but it quickly became clear that they were waiting for someone else.
Someone important.
Minutes later, a dark-colored sedan pulled up. A man exited the car. He was wearing an expensive suit and a red tie. He walked with purpose, like each step was an integral part of a greater plan.
Once we were all settled in the living room, Agent Sterling introduced him as the director of National Intelligence.
“Principle advisor of the National Security Council,” Sloane rattled off. “Reports directly to the president. Head of the Intelligence Community, which encompasses seventeen elements, including the CIA, the NSA, the DEA—”
“And the FBI?” Lia suggested dryly before Sloane could list off all seventeen agencies the man in front of us oversaw.
“Until last week,” the man in the red tie said, “I had no idea this program existed.”
The purpose of this meeting soon became clear. When the odds are bad, you change the rules. Agent Sterling had blown the whistle on the Naturals program.
“I’ve given a great deal of thought to your report,” the director of National Intelligence told Agent Sterling. “The pros and cons of this program. Its strengths. Its weaknesses.”
He lingered on the word weaknesses. Director Sterling’s face was still. This man was his boss. He could disband the program. From the FBI director’s perspective, the director of National Intelligence could probably do worse. How many laws had Agent Sterling’s father broken, keeping this program off the books?
Agent Sterling is moving in. I clung to that fact. Surely that meant that her father’s boss wasn’t here to pull the plug. Surely.
Sensing that Director Sterling wasn’t the only one discomfited by his words, the man at the head of National Intelligence addressed the rest of us. “Agent Sterling seems to believe that this program saves lives—and that if you were allowed to participate in active investigations, you could save many more.” The intelligence director paused. “She also believes that you can’t be trusted to watch out for yourselves, and that no agent involved in an active case, no matter how well-intentioned, can be counted on to put your physical and psychological well-being first.”