Chapter 23
To say that Alex Frost was surprised to find Con waiting outside the field office when she arrived just after 7:30 was an understatement. His clean-shaven appearance, ironed polo, dark slacks, and the absence of any brewery or distillery scent were shocking. Equally startling was that he offered her a coffee.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Good morning.”
Alex took the cup and Con reached for the door. He opened it about a foot then paused.
“I just wanted to apologize again for last night.”
“I’ve already forgotten about it,” Alex said dismissively.
“Well, I haven’t. It won’t happen again.”
He held her stare until she nodded.
Apparently satisfied, Con opened the door all the way and gestured for her to enter. The matronly secretary was already behind her desk, her eyes heavily squinted, her nose but inches from the computer.
She glanced up as they approached.
“Morning Agents Striker and Frost.”
Both of them said hello and Alex thought she caught the secretary shooting Con a sly look.
Strange , she thought. Last night, the woman had been coy when referring to Con.
Things got stranger still when they made it to the third floor.
There were more than a dozen people waiting for them.
“Hi?” Alex said awkwardly.
Con sidled in front of her.
“Everyone, this is Agent Alex Frost. She’s on loan to us from Quantico where she finished at the top of her class. She’ll be helping me out on my case.”
Alex wasn’t easily embarrassed, but the feeling of the capillaries in her cheeks filling with blood was becoming strangely common.
There was a flurry of introductions and Alex implemented an old trick to remember their names: she picked out one distinguishing feature—distinctive glasses, bald head, a mole on their cheek—and associated that with their name.
The only person on their floor who didn’t come forward was Special Agent in Charge Marcus Allen. He stood in the doorway of his office, his lips pursed.
“I got you a desk right next to mine,” Con said after the other agents had either left the office or gone back to work.
“Thanks. Thanks for all of this.”
“No problem. Don’t have a password or login for your terminal yet, but you should get one soon. In the meantime, feel free to use your laptop.”
Alex nodded and removed her laptop from her bag.
“You gonna watch some movies?” Con’s eyes, usually dark and flat, had a curious sparkle to them as he asked this.
“I was thinking—”
“I’m kidding,” he interrupted. “You can watch those shitty movies later. Let’s go for a ride. There’s someone I want you to—”
“Agent Frost, can I see my office?”
It was Marcus.
Alex nervously looked at Con. The twinkle vanished as the man nodded, the up and down movement like rubbing a greasy thumb across black pearls.
It wasn’t a nod of permission, and Alex wasn’t asking for it. It was a nod telling her that Con was okay with whatever she decided to tell the Special Agent in Charge.
That he wouldn’t hold it against her.
Alex didn’t nod back.
“Close the door behind you,” Marcus Allen instructed.
Alex did and that sat.
“Agent Frost, you were here yesterday pretty much all by yourself.” Marcus posed this like a question, but Alex didn’t bite. “Anything else happen during your first day? Anything you want to share?”
Anything you want to rat on Con about?
Alex hated being put in this spot. But who was to blame? Marcus?
Or Con?
“No,” she said firmly. “Nothing to report. Spent my day mostly just getting oriented and acquainted with the new environment.”
Not exactly a lie.
She’d found a nice bookstore, a chapel, and a garden.
Had a beer in a local pub.
Marcus blinked.
“You sure?”
Alex didn’t miss a beat.
“I’m sure.”
Marcus continued to glare at her, and then sighed and said in a patronizing tone, “Agent Frost, I want to make one thing clear. I am in charge of this unit. Nobody else, regardless of what Agent Striker might have told you. I am the Special Agent in Charge. When I ask you a question, I expect you to tell me the truth. I don’t care if you scored a hundred percent or came highly recommended by Interim Director Jeremy Stitts. I don’t care who your father is. If I find out you’ve lied to me, I will send your ass packing.” Now Marcus leaned forward. “Now, let me tell you a little something about your partner. He’s on his way out. And unless you want to be on your way out with him, I expect you to tell me the truth.”
Alex was tempted to say something, but she knew that temptation was just foreplay to regret.
Keeping her lips firmly closed, she nodded.
I hear you; I understand. And I’ve just picked my side.
I think.
“You’re dismissed.”
Alex left her boss’s office and, head down, retreated back to her desk.
Con was talking on his phone, but his attention was focused primarily on Marcus Allen’s door, which Alex had closed on the way out. She knew what he was doing. Con was waiting to see if he would be called in, if this was going to be his last day on the job.
It was a rational fear, of course—Alex knew that most people got nervous at border crossings even when they had nothing to hide. They were nearly paralyzed with fear when they were smuggling contraband.
And Con was a walking HR nightmare.
What didn’t make sense was why Con cared. After all, his attitude toward being an FBI Agent was indifferent at best.
But he needn’t worry because the door remained firmly closed.
Con said something into his phone, then hung up.
“Frost?” he said, his tone purely professional now. “I think I finally have a lead in this case. Come on, let’s get out of this shithole.”