Page 21 of Desperate Creed

She’d be okay. She just needed to get away from Chicago. Lose these guys. Whatever was going on, Hannah would help her figure out what to do.

16

Old Ebbitt Grill

Washington, D.C.

Maggie O’Dell arrived late. But she had a good excuse. This was the third time in less than a month that her boss had called her into his office for an unscheduled meeting. Twice before, the impromptu summons seemed like a waste of time to Maggie. Checking and double-checking on reports that had already been submitted. In hindsight, Maggie now wondered if those two call-ins were simply practice runs for today. Because today’s meeting was a doozy.

She waved to the host who was busy with a couple of politicians she recognized. Poor Ermelo was getting an earful, but he nodded for her to go ahead and gestured toward the back. She found her friend, Gwen Patterson in their favorite corner, sipping a glass of wine.

“Sorry,” Maggie said as she slid in on the opposite side of the booth. She’d already texted an explanation earlier.

A waiter appeared with a bottle of Sam Adams and a frosted pilsner. When he left, Maggie raised an eyebrow at her friend and said, “A beer for lunch?”

“It’s Friday. I put in our food order already, too. I’m starving.”

Maggie was glad to hear that. Chemo had stolen her friend’s appetite for too long. It wasn’t bad enough that it had also replaced Gwen’s beautiful, strawberry-blond hair with a steel gray. She used to wear it chin-length but now kept it clipped short, almost a pixie-style that actually made her look younger, despite the gray.

“Everything okay?” Gwen asked.

Maggie smiled as she poured the beer.

“What?”

“All you’ve been through, and you’re always worried about me.”

“Someone has to,” Gwen said, matter-of-fact and sipped her wine.

Gwen was fifteen years older than Maggie. She’d been a mentor to her when Maggie was a newbie, just getting started as a criminal profiler. Gwen was a consultant to the FBI’s Behavioral Science Unit, and the two had worked together to apprehend some of the deadliest and most dangerous killers.

“A.D. Kunze wanted to let me know that the director was impressed with the way I handled the human trafficking case in Nebraska.”

Gwen raised her glass, “Congratulations.”

“That was last fall. Why would he take four months to tell me that?”

“The director or Raymond?”

Maggie held back a grimace. Sometimes she hated that Gwen was on a first name basis with her boss, but her friend’s question only confirmed what Maggie was already thinking. When had the director told Kunze that he was impressed with her? Maybe it didn’t matter.

Their food arrived, and Maggie sat back. The waiter had also brought a second glass of wine for Gwen. He asked if Maggie would like a second beer, but she had barely taken a drink and shook her head. She was surprised to see that he had two platters with burgers. Gwen was a gourmet cook and lately chose one of the seafood entrees from the menu, only to pick at it, eating very little.

She glanced at Gwen preparing her sandwich, adding salt and pepper then carefully placing—from the side garnish—pickles, jalapenos, onion and lettuce. It was the most interest she’d seen Gwen give food in a long time. Maggie fussed over her own sandwich, pretending that her friend’s sudden appetite wasn’t a big deal.

“Go on,” Gwen said as she sliced her creation in half. Her fingers expertly picked up the first half, keeping everything together. She stopped before bringing it to her lips. “So tell me,” she coaxed. “Why was he finally telling you what the director said?”

“Because the director is creating a new special unit to assist local law enforcement in solving violent crimes. They just invested millions to upgrade ViCap and our crime lab. Maybe he’s looking to justify the expense.”

ViCap was the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program, a unit of the bureau that analyzed and collected data on violent and sexual crimes.

“Actually that’s a great idea,” Gwen said. “Getting back to solving crimes instead of getting mixed up in politics.”

“Do you really believe that’s possible for Kunze? He seems to thrive on having all those connections.”

Gwen shrugged. “Sounds like he might not have a choice if Director Bowman has something else in mind.”

The new FBI director had been on the job less than a year and had already made it clear he wanted no part of letting the agency be used for political football. Maggie couldn’t help wondering how that set with her boss, Assistant Director Kunze who had made a career by exchanging favors with politicians. Too many times he’d sent her on wild goose chases to check on political pet projects of various members of congress. Once, he even ordered Maggie to retrieve a senator’s family along with their houseboat from the middle of the Gulf of Mexico during a severe thunderstorm. And he usually equipped her with less information than he had available, willing to put her in danger for the sake of keeping his contacts from a media firestorm or scandal.