15. Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
Emily
I woke in a tangle of limbs, Dion's arm draped possessively across my waist. Light filtered through the curtains, reminding me this was Tuesday—the day of my meeting with Susan. Despite the warmth of Dion's body beside me, a chill crept through my veins.
"You're thinking too loudly," Dion murmured, his voice rough with sleep.
I turned to face him, finding his blue eyes already open, watching me. "Today's the meeting."
"I know." He brushed a strand of hair from my face. "Are you ready?"
"As I'll ever be," I replied, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
"Remember the plan," Dion said, sitting up and stretching. The morning light caught the ripple of muscles across his back, highlighting the scars I now knew intimately. "Stick to the facts. Don't reveal what you suspect about the trafficking ring unless absolutely necessary."
I nodded, pushing myself upright. "And the wire?"
"I will fit you with it before you leave. It's undetectable unless someone's specifically looking for it." He caught my hand, his expression serious. "If anything feels wrong—anything at all—you say the code word and we're in there."
"Barnaby," I confirmed. Our chosen code word would trigger immediate extraction by Dion's team, who would be positioned strategically around the building.
"Good girl." He pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Now, let's get you dressed for battle."
An hour later, I stood in front of the mirror, barely recognizing myself. Gone was the soft, vulnerable woman who'd spent the long weekend in Dion's arms. In her place stood a professional in a crisp navy suit, hair pulled back in a severe bun, expression cool and composed.
Walker worked efficiently, attaching the tiny microphone to the inside of my blouse. "This picks up everything within about ten feet," he explained. "We'll hear whatever she says, even if she whispers."
I nodded, trying to ignore the flutter of anxiety in my stomach.
Dion entered, his expression shifting from worried to proud as he took in my appearance. "You look ready to take on the world."
"Just Susan Martin," I replied, attempting a smile.
"Remember," he said, coming to stand behind me, his hands gentle on my shoulders, "we're with you every step. Gideon will be posing as a new security consultant in the building. Maddox is stationed in a van outside, monitoring the feed. And I'll be in a car across the street ready for you."
I leaned back against him, drawing strength from his solid presence. "What if she knows something about Zoe? What if she's already been moved?"
"She hasn't," Dion reassured me. "Focus on one battle at a time. Get through this meeting first. The team watching the Bennetts’ reports no unusual activity so far this morning."
I took a deep breath, straightening my spine. "Okay. Let's do this."
The drive to the Department of Children and Family Services building was tense. I sat in the passenger seat of Dion's SUV, mentally rehearsing my responses to various scenarios. Dion drove in silence, occasionally reaching over to squeeze my hand reassuringly.
As we approached the building, he pulled into a nearby parking garage. "I'll be monitoring everything from here," he said, gesturing to the sophisticated communications setup disguised as ordinary car electronics. "If you need me, I'm thirty seconds away."
I nodded, suddenly reluctant to leave the safety of his presence. "I should go. I don't want to be late."
Dion caught my face between his hands, his eyes intense. "You've got this, Emily. You're stronger than they know. You're stronger than you know.'"
His kiss was brief but fierce, a reminder of everything waiting for me when this was over. I clung to that thought as I walked the block to the DCFS building, my heels clicking purposefully on the pavement.
The familiar lobby, with its institutional beige walls and outdated furniture, felt alien now. How many times had I walked through these doors, never suspecting the corruption festering behind them?
"Emily!" a familiar voice called.
I turned to see Jennifer, one of the few colleagues I genuinely trusted, hurrying toward me. Her eyes were wide with concern.
"What's going on?" she asked in a hushed voice. "There are rumors flying everywhere. Susan's been in meetings with HR all morning, and Richard Kline came in earlier looking like someone died."
I forced a neutral expression. "I'm not sure. Susan asked me to come in for a meeting."
Jennifer's brow furrowed. "Be careful, Em. Something weird is happening. Susan's been acting strange ever since you called in sick last week."
"Thanks for the warning," I said, genuinely grateful for her concern. "I'd better head up."
The elevator ride to the third floor felt endless. When the doors finally opened, I stepped out with my head high, refusing to show any hint of trepidation.
Susan's assistant looked up as I approached, her expression carefully blank. "Ms. Carter. They're waiting for you in the conference room."
They. Not just Susan, then.
I nodded my thanks and walked down the hallway, each step measured and deliberate. At the conference room door, I paused, took a deep breath, and knocked.
"Come in," Susan's voice called.
I opened the door to find not just Susan, but Richard Kline and a woman I recognized as Marjorie Hewitt from Human Resources. All three looked up as I entered, their expressions varying from Susan's forced concern to Kline's barely concealed hostility.
"Emily," Susan said, gesturing to an empty chair across from them. "Thank you for coming in."
I took the seat, placing my purse carefully on the floor beside me. "Your summons was hardly voluntary."
Susan exchanged glances with Kline before continuing. "Yes, well, we've received some... concerning reports about your recent behavior."
"What kind of reports?" I asked, keeping my voice level.
Kline leaned forward, his thin lips pressed into a frown. "Reports of erratic behavior, emotional outbursts, and unauthorized contact with clients outside of scheduled visits."
"That's simply not true," I replied calmly. "I follow all department protocols regarding client contact."
Susan slid a folder across the table. "Then perhaps you can explain these emails."
I opened the folder to find printouts of emails I'd supposedly sent to various foster families, including the Bennetts. The messages were unprofessional, bordering on accusatory, suggesting improprieties without evidence. My email signature was at the bottom of each one.
"I didn't write these," I said immediately, looking up to meet Susan's gaze. "These are forgeries."
"They came from your department email account," Kline countered, his voice cold.
"Then someone accessed my account without authorization," I replied. "I would never send emails like these."
Marjorie from HR cleared her throat. "Ms. Carter, we understand you've been under considerable stress recently. The incident two months—"
"You mean when I was abducted?" I interrupted, unable to keep the edge from my voice. "Yes, that was very stressful."
Marjorie at least had the grace to look uncomfortable.
"Emily, we're concerned about you," Susan said. "Your behavior since returning to work has been... concerning. Several families have reported that you've seemed suspicious, hostile even."
"Which families?" I challenged. "The Wilsons? The Bennetts? Families whose foster children have mysteriously disappeared, and I raised concerns but nothing has been done?"
The tension in the room ratcheted up several notches. Susan and Kline exchanged another glance, this one more urgent.
"Emily," Susan said, her voice softening in a way that made my skin crawl, "we're not your enemies here. We're trying to help you."
"By accepting fabricated emails and accusing me of misconduct?" I raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't feel very helpful."
Marjorie shuffled some papers, clearly uncomfortable herself with the direction the conversation had taken. "Perhaps we should focus on the next steps. Given the seriousness of these concerns, we're continuing your administrative leave pending a full investigation."
"I see," I said, maintaining my composure despite the anger simmering beneath the surface. "And will this investigation include examining how children placed with certain foster families seem to vanish without proper follow-up?”
Kline's face flushed with anger. "That's enough, Ms. Carter. Your accusations are not only unfounded but potentially libelous."
"Then you won't mind if I request an external audit of our placement records," I replied coolly. "Particularly for the Wilson, Bennett, and Ramirez families."
Susan stood abruptly. "This meeting is over. Emily, please surrender your department ID and keys. Your personal belongings will be packed and sent to your home address." Even Marjorie looked shocked.
I remained seated, maintaining eye contact. "And if I refuse?"
"Then security will escort you from the building," Kline said, standing as well. "And we'll add insubordination to the list of concerns in your file."
I stood slowly, deliberately. "Before I go, I'd like to know about Zoe Morris. She was due for a check-in this morning."
Susan's expression flickered. "The Bennetts reported she was ill. The visit was rescheduled."
"For when?"
"That's no longer your concern," Kline interjected. "You are relieved of all case responsibilities, effective immediately."
I held his gaze, searching for any sign of humanity, any indication that he might care about the children being trafficked under his watch. I found nothing but cold calculation.
"I'd like to speak with you privately before you go, Emily," Kline said suddenly, his tone shifting to something almost conciliatory. "Perhaps we can clear up some misunderstandings."
Susan shot him a questioning look, but he gave an almost imperceptible nod. "I'll handle this, Susan. Ms. Hewitt, would you mind giving us a moment?"