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She wasn’t someone who spent much time throwing pity parties. Nor did she paint everyone who looked askance as “the bad guy.” This had never helped. Instead, she had simply chosen to work twice as hard.
That was what was needed, so that was what she’d done. No complaining and no bitterness, just straightforward effort.
The scars along her body, the pain in her shoulder—perpetual after a mission that had gone sideways in Beirut—and her pill problem had all been results of overwork.
In a world dominated by a certain view of people like Cora, Saul Brady had been an oasis. And though she’d never considered herself someone given to histrionics, she couldn’t help but feel a welling of emotion at his voice, tender and polite as always
“Cora, where are you?” he said quietly.
She bit her lip, stunned at the degree of the emotions rising in her chest. Her shoulders shook against the concrete wall, and a wave of exhaustion fell across her. But she bit back a reply until she knew her voice would be steady.
“Hey Saul,” she said after a moment. She kept her tone light, cavalier. “I spotted the work you did on that warehouse. Good job,” she said.
He replied, and it sounded as if his tone carried relief that he recognized the voice calling from Cora’s number. She wasn’t sure what this indicated about his expectations. “I sawyourwork,” Saul said quietly. “And a deputy director webothknow was also present.” His voice carried multiple levels of meaning.
Cora winced, thinking of Deputy Director Malcolm Ogden. The man who’d sent a PI to get her fired. Director Ogden had always hated Cora. She stood in direct contradiction to everything he stood for. Ogden had come from a family of wealthy, high-powered lawyers. Cora had forged her own path. Ogden had made his career on “networking,” which was just a fancy term for “knowing rich people.” Cora had made a career with scars and pain.
Neither of them saw the other in a particularly favorable light.
In the same way she’d pictured Brady in her mind’s eye with an air of fondness, a far less welcome image crossed her consciousness. A smarmy face beneath a choir-boy haircut. Ogden’s spray tan accentuated absolutely nothing about his appearance. His features were neither attractive nor ugly. They were the features of a man designed in a laboratory specifically to be as unoffensive as possible.
“He’s been sniffing around?” Cora said hesitantly.
Brady didn’t directly reply. He allowed the silence to linger. Saul was a friend and a professional. He wouldn’t betray the company’s confidentiality. Not because he was unerringly loyal to the bureau, but because he was unwavering in his own code of conduct. Honesty mattered to the man as much as breath.
Cora sighed and tried again, “I’ll take it as a warning. Thanks Saul.” By mentioning Ogden had been at the warehouse, Saul had already given her more than enough information.
Now, she said, “Brady, I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t important. I’m pulling threads in Miami.”
A sigh. The sound of clacking keys, suggesting Brady was looking up something on a computer. After a few moments, a faint exhalation. For anyone else, this was the equivalent of a string of colorful, four-lettered words.
“The mayor’s house, Shields?” he said, making no effort to hide his shock.
“I didn’t say that was me.”
“Was it you?”
“Brady, I need some guy-in-chair help. Think you can scratch that itch?”
“Ms. Shields,” Brady said slowly, emphasizing theMs.She was no longer an agent, and they both knew it. “I’m not able to continue directing agency resources to...to...vigilantes.” He breathed heavily as if he’d finally gotten something off his chest that he’d wanted to say before.
But Cora ignored this. “Three dead, Saul. Mayor’s wife. Mayor’s daughter. The sister of a SEAL buddy. Castillo is scared out of his mind.”
“Castillo?”
“The mayor down here—see! I didn’t know his name either.”
“No, right. Okay. I don’t know what you think I can do for you, Cora.”
“Has it come across your desk? Anyone’s desk up there?”
“What? The murders?”
“Mhmm.”
“You know I can’t discuss ongoing investigat—”
“Dammit, Saul!” She yelled. “I’m helping here. You didn’t see him. He was terrified. He knows who’s doing this Saul. Let me guess, nothing at the FBI. The locals have it handled, hmm? They’re denying it’s serial. Claiming an accident in the pool. No mention of Janice Lochhead at all. Is that about right?”
