Chapter 15
Tori didn’t answer, not that Alex expected her to.
She felt bad leaving her friend in the lurch, for not joining them for a drink on Ben’s birthday.
But she had little choice.
If she hurried, she could catch the last flight to California.
Alex left an apologetic message, wished Ben a happy birthday, and then glazed over what Stitts had told her. If she couldn’t tell Tori in person about her first assignment, she wanted to at least share the good news live and not in a message.
Then she rushed home.
The trainees all lived in the same apartment complex, which was located only a half mile from the Training Headquarters.
It took her six minutes to get home. Ten to pack up her things, enough for a week—Stitts had said that the position that she’d been assigned was temporary with the possibility of becoming permanent—and then got an Uber to the airport.
Because of the insanely fast turnaround time, the details of her new salary—they got paid as trainees but there was a significant pay bump when you become a Field Agent—were to be worked out later. Stitts also said that she would be reimbursed for her flight and accommodations in OC.
But Alex cared little about any of this. Because she worked such long hours, there wasn’t much leisure time to spend what little cash she earned. And, as much as she was hesitant to do it, Alex knew that if she was ever in a pinch, her father would have no problem fronting her some money.
Money that he would never accept repayment for.
Alex cleared TSA screening in a daze, checking her gun as was required, and then boarded the plane.
The final flight out of Richmond for the night.
As she slumped in her coach seat, thankfully with nobody else in her row, Alex finally allowed herself a breath.
And tried to take everything in.
Agent Frost.
Agent Frost.
That would take some getting used to. Perhaps more than even Ms. Frost.
Alex flipped open the leather case that contained her FBI badge.
Admittedly, the photo could have been better. It was the same one that they’d used for her ID card, taken the night following when the recruits were encouraged to go out and ‘get to know one another’. This, Alex quickly learned, was a euphemism for getting absolutely smashed on Big Brother’s dime.
But still…
“I’m an FBI Agent,” Alex whispered, a smile forming on her full lips. “I’m an F-B-I Agent.”
She said it a little louder this time and the person seated in front of her, a man with so many skin tags on his neck that he looked like a frilled lizard, turned.
Alex’s face flushed.
Ten minutes into the flight, she finally began to come to terms with her promotion.
And then she set to work.
Stitts had hooked her up with a file containing the details of her first case. It was a far cry from hunting a serial killer and was, if she was being honest, a little mundane: finding the source of pirated films from a large production company.
But Alex was determined to put the same effort into this case as if she were back in Quantico investigating cold cases.
Minus the joke.
She poured over details pertaining to Imperial Productions, their films, the major players involved. The information that Stitts had provided was scant, and this took no more than an hour.
Satisfied that there was nothing else to be learned thirty thousand feet in the air, Alex flipped to the final page and noticed an addendum.
And then her jaw fell open.
This can’t be.
But it was. Buried within a list of routine details, including the address of the Orange County Field Office, her direct report, Special Agent in Charge Marcus Allen, it listed her partner: Special Agent Constantine Striker.
Alex read this last line three times to make sure she wasn’t just imagining things.
She wasn’t.
Her partner was Constantine Striker.
The man who, at twenty-four years of age, incidentally the same age Alex was now, had headed up a task force that had eventually brought down the most notorious Californian serial killers of the past two decades: The Sandman, Matthew Nelson Neil.
If Jeremy Stitts was a legend in the FBI, Con Striker was a god.
His work ethic and attention to detail were second to none.
Alex had never met the man, but she had met his one-time partner, the man who had worked side-by-side with Con when he’d caught The Sandman.
Stitts had called in Tate Abernathy as a special guest lecturer about a month ago. The man had spoken extensively about The Sandman case, told them about how they’d worked night and day, explored every clue, every tip.
How the media and political pressure to stop the man who had killed eleven, and eventually twelve when his reign of terror was finally over, women in and around Orange County had been intense.
The scrutiny over everything they did was relentless, the public’s gaze fixed unwaveringly on each step they made.
Tate had been confident, but humble, too.
He explained that despite their efforts, catching The Sandman had come down to an anonymous tip.
And now Con was going to be her partner.
Alex struggled to contain her excitement. Being partnered up with someone with his reputation had the potential to catapult her career.
Time passed in a blur and before she knew it, the six-hour cross-country flight was over. A wide-eyed Alex Frost took a cab from the airport to the hotel that Stitts had recommended, which was less than three miles from the field office. It was a chain hotel, but a smaller version, a homier variety than the typical oversized structures that lacked any sort of personality.
Due to the time difference, by the time Alex got settled, it was just after midnight. Hungry, she ordered room service, a burger and fries, and chased this with a beer from the mini fridge.
She wanted to be fresh in the morning and after eating, crawled into bed. Alex feared that her excitement would keep her from sleeping, but the moment she closed her eyes it came hard and fast.
***
Alex was nervous when she arrived at the Orange County FBI Field Office. Unlike many of the structures that she’d flown over last night, the building that was to be her place of employment for at least the next week was rather bland.
This comforted her a little. Not enough to quell all of her anxiety, but sufficient to knock it down a few notches.
When people thought of LA, and Hollywood and Orange County in particular, they envisioned the iconic sign, movie star sightings, Disneyland.
The office lacked this glitz and glamour.
Alex introduced herself to the secretary at the front desk, who smiled politely, and told her, even though it was early, that Special Agent in Charge Marcus Allen was waiting for her upstairs.
Alex thanked the woman and took the elevator to the third floor. Once there, she weaved through the row of cubicles, all empty, before reaching her new boss’ office situated near the back.
It was early, not even eight, yet. And the fact that Agent Allen was already here was telling. This was good because her searches into Marcus Allen had revealed little. Alex had discovered that the man had been a field agent in San Diego before being promoted to his current position. His specialty was in profiling school shooters.
Alex stood outside the door and, similar to what she’d done last night before entering Director Stitts’ office, relaxed her hands and took a deep breath.
No need to wipe away sweat, however.
Then she knocked twice.
“Come in,” a male voice answered.
Alex opened the door and stepped inside.
The office was modest, and her analytical mind naturally took in the details. She noticed Agent Allen’s criminal psychology diploma mounted on the wall, the plain, unobtrusive decor, the picture frames on his desk with their backs to her.
She assumed they contained images of his family.
And then Alex observed Marcus Allen.
He was lean, with a square jaw. His medium-length gray hair was slicked back away from his forehead. The man’s eyes were small and intense.
“Agent Alex Frost,” Marcus said, not bothering to get up from behind his desk. “Welcome to Orange County.”
Alex felt a tingle of excitement course through her.
Agent Frost.
Yeah, that was going to take some getting used to.
“Thank you. I’m very excited to be here.”
“Well, you come highly recommended. Director Stitts says that you are the top of your class and that you’re one of very few to get a perfect score on the final exam.”
Alex felt a slight flush to her cheeks, but she took the compliment in stride.
“Thanks. I’m looking forward to learning a lot from you and Agent Striker.”
The man’s demeanor suddenly changed. It was minor, but evident to someone as detail-oriented as Alex.
A slight stiffening of his posture, an almost imperceptible narrowing of the eyes.
“Yes, Agent Striker.” Marcus let this hang in the air for a moment, and then leaned forward, interlacing his fingers. “Agent Frost, I feel that it’s my duty to temper your expectations. I know Agent Striker’s reputation, of course, but most of his repute comes from years ago. Agent Striker may not be the same man that you’ve heard about.” Alex said nothing and Marcus continued. “He’s a private person and I’m ashamed to say that even though we’ve worked in the same building for quite some time, I know very little about him. That’s something that I was hoping you might be able to help me with.”
In addition to being meticulous, Alex’s father had also taught her to be adept at reading between the lines. As such, what Marcus said next came as little surprise to her.
“I would like you, Agent Frost, to provide me with regular updates on Agent Constantine Striker.”
Brandon Frost had trained Alex well. And in this context, regular updates meant anything but being a highly-trained stenographer. Regular updates meant spying on Constantine and reporting everything he did.
Everything he did wrong .
This understanding swept away the final remnants of Agent Alex Frost’s excitement.