Page 123 of Only the Hunter

“You doing okay with all of this?” Brie asks. Her focus is on the road, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to recognize she’s observant, and by closing my eyes I gave her plenty to observe.

“I’m good.”

It’s a brief response, and maybe too brief, because Brie pointedly studies me.

“Really,” I say, crossing one leg over the other with a soft sigh. “I just…I’m maybe a little jetlagged.”

Now that I say it, it might be true. I’ve never been my best self running on no sleep—today’s proof of that, probably.

“How long have you and Gabriel known each other?”

Gabriel. That’s telling. She hasn’t known him long. “Forever,” I say. “Our moms met in Kindermusik. My older brother has been his friend since their crawling days.” The phrase is one I heard a thousand times over the years from my mom, something she’d always say on visits to her house—visits, because my dad won sole custody thanks to his battalion of lawyers. Ironically, hearing all about those almighty lawyers is probably why I chose law. Although I don’t particularly feel powerful these days.

“I didn’t realize that,” Brie says after a beat.

“How long have you worked with him?”

“Not that long. He joined our team a couple of months ago… November, I think?”

That’s interesting. He’s been in the DC area for a while yet he just recently came around to say hello. It’s January, and he showed up, what? Two weeks ago? And he tried to tell me that he came here to be closer to me. Right.

“He’s a good addition to the team,” Brie says. “Do you two live together?”

“No,” I’m quick to answer.

“Hmm. It was my understanding he moved East to be closer to family.”

She says it like a statement and a question. “His mom’s in Illinois.”

He wants the NSA, and that’s the underlying reason he moved, but I refrain from sharing that detail in case his employers aren’t aware of his long-term goals. I don’t know how any of that works in his world. “We’ve been friends for a long time, but it’s not like we’re so close he’d move to be near me.” No matter what he says.

Brie rolls her lips. Maybe they’re dry. Maybe she’s thinking. It doesn’t matter.

“Anyway, the senator,” I say, shifting to the conversation we should have before we arrive at his office. “Gabe mentioned he surfaced in a case you recently worked on? The one with the former chief of staff?”

Vasquez’s suicide had been all over the news, but the overarching narrative was that she had battled anxiety and depression for most of her life. Only those paying attention knew that she’d allegedly been involved in extortion and under-the-table deals with the Pentagon.

“He surfaced—on paper. I’ve never met him. But I’m intrigued. Especially since investigations into Magpie—are you familiar?”

“It’s an extortion ring,” I say, repeating what I’ve gleaned from articles.

“Not exactly. They sell information to the highest bidder. They have sources around the world. What the buyers do with that information…” She shrugs. “But it’s suspicious that there hasn’t been a bigger investigation.”

“Not really. Anything they find won’t shed a favorable light on the administration.”

“True. But this is bipartisan. And Magpie isn’t even American-owned. I’d expect teeth.”

“Well, knowing what I know of cross-agency investigations, it could absolutely be high priority, and it’s just out of the public eye.” I scan the passing DC buildings, the workday underway, a workday that now excludes me. “Of course, there could be someone with influence hoping everyone forgets.”

“Is that what you think is happening with the Safe Passage Op?”

I shift in my seat and answer honestly. “Public awareness of human trafficking cases is nonexistent. The DOJ dropping the case is akin to burying it six feet under.”

Brie signals and pulls into a reserved parking lane outside a red-brick federal building just off Constitution Avenue.

“Ready?” she asks.

“No,” I answer, again honestly. I’m not scared; my mood’s simply in the sewer. “But let’s go anyway.”