The Agent
“Agent Nichols,” a soft voice called my name from a million miles away.
I was the one sworn to serve and protect. Not him.
Criminal or not, tonight I was supposed to keep him safe. And I failed.
Acknowledging the fact made my heart sink deep into my stomach.
“Agent Nichols,” the voice called again, closer this time.
“Huh?” I finally responded, blinking back into the present.
A paramedic stood in front of me with a worried frown. She was dabbing a large cotton ball against the wound on the side of my head. When our attacker hit me the final time, his gun broke my skin and created a small gash.
“On a scale of one to ten, one being the least amount and ten being the most, how would you rate the pain of your injuries?” She asked.
“Eight,” I answered honestly. As much as I wanted to lie, my head was pounding. Every beat of my solemn heart throbbed in my forehead. When I moved my gaze too quickly, the world blurred and spun around me. I guess I hit my head one too many times on the hardwood floor.
“Simone!” A familiar voice called through the chatter of the other agents on the scene.
The paramedic and I turned our heads to see a man rushing towards us.
Through my fuzzy gaze, I recognized the executive assistant director of our department, Logan Cooper.
Other agents usually tightened up in his presence, either eager to show off their skills or afraid of screwing up.
Not me, though. His appearance meant I could take a moment to breathe.
To everyone else, he was just another boss. But to me, he was family.
“God, Simone,” he said as he reached us. Gently, he lay a hand on the other side of my head and pulled me against him in a tight hug. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, Uncle Logan,” I replied.
Releasing me, he shifted my face back and forth in search of more visible wounds.
The subtle movement sent the world into another whirlpool. I closed my eyes to cease the nausea creeping up from all the motion.
“How bad is it?” He asked, noticing my discomfort.
“She has a mild concussion,” the paramedic explained. “She’s showing signs of dizziness, fatigue, and sensitivity to light. I recommend she take a few days off and be cleared by a doctor before she reports back to the field.”
“A few days?” I asked as my eyes popped back open. “No! This was a premeditated murder! I need to start investigating this now!”
Logan sighed. “Could you give us a second?” He asked the paramedic.
Nodding, she stepped away to give us some privacy.
Logan crossed his arms as he took her spot in front of me. “Simone,” he started.
“I’m fine,” I insisted. “I just need some ibuprofen and some sleep, and I’ll be good as new by tomorrow.”
He crossed his arms across his chest. “No. You heard the paramedic. You need to rest for a few days. You’re well overdue for some vacation time, anyway.”
“But-”
“No buts,” he said, his voice growing firmer. “You’re taking the rest of the week off. And when you come back on Monday, you are getting checked out by a doctor before you do any fieldwork.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but he spoke before I could.
“That’s an order, Agent Nichols.”
My teeth ground against each other as I clenched my jaw. Rarely did he address me formally, but it never failed to put a bad taste in my mouth. I understood he was worried about me, but he did not need to use his supervisory rank to make a point.
Pouting, I averted my gaze back towards the chalet.
Workers from the coroner's office were pulling Lorenzo’s body out on a stretcher.
A white sheet shielded his lifeless eyes from the rest of the crowd.
But, they were still engraved in the back of my mind.
He was supposed to run. He was supposed to get far away from our attacker.
He was supposed to live. Why did he have to be so stupid and try to protect me?
“It’s not your fault, Simone,” Logan said. He set a hand on my shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze. “Don’t put that burden on yourself.”
“Easier said than done.”
“I know. Your father was the same way. He carried all the woes of this job on his shoulders. Almost killed him a few times. I don’t want to see you drowning underneath the same weight.
” His hand went from my shoulder to my chin, pulling my gaze back to him.
“Which is another reason why you’re taking a few days off.
You need to clear your head. Go out with your friends. Live your life a little.”
Weariness rolled over my shoulders, and I suddenly became too tired to think of a response. Reluctantly, I nodded in silent agreement to his words.
“Come on,” he said as he held out his hand. “Let’s get you home.”
I allowed him to lead me to one of the squad cars and hopped into the passenger side. I leaned my head against the window and closed my eyes to prevent motion sickness from my twirling vision.
Logan drove as fast as he could to shorten our lengthy ride. The bumpy roads transformed into smooth pavement in less than an hour. It wasn’t long after that the car finally came to a stop.
Finally opening my eyes, I saw my quaint two-story house sitting in front of us. The familiar sight lifted my spirits. After the night I had, I was in desperate need for a shower and a large glass of wine. A bottle actually didn’t sound half bad.
“Thanks, Uncle Logan,” I said as I opened the passenger door. My brow rose as he cut off the engine and pushed his own door open.
“You don’t have to stay,” I assured him. “I feel fine.”
“You sustained a head injury tonight. I’m not going anywhere until I know there wasn’t any real damage. Your father would rise from his grave and kill me if anything happened to you.”
I almost smiled. One promise Logan held true to his heart was the one he made to take care of me if anything ever happened to my father.
The two of them used to be inseparable - had been since they met in college. And even though they weren't connected by blood, they weren’t anything less than brothers.
For as long as I could remember, Logan always treated me as if I was his own.
His love and respect for my father extended to me, providing me with an uncle who showed up to birthday parties with handfuls of gift bags and slipped me big bills at award ceremonies.
When my father passed, Logan stepped up in all the areas he no longer could, offering me a resemblance of the figure I’d lost.
“I’m okay, Uncle Logan. Really. I just need some time…alone.”
His lips pressed together in a small frown as he nodded. “Alright,” he finally gave in. “But, you need to call me in the morning to check-in.”
“I will,” I promised as I climbed out of the car. “Thanks again for the ride.” Eager to get in the house, I turned on my heel and started walking towards the cobblestone path.
“Simone,” Logan called.
Reluctantly, I stopped and looked over my shoulder.
Logan’s passenger side window was rolled down. Through it, I saw him leaning over the center dash. “Promise me you’ll take the next few days to actually relax.”
“No promises,” I replied. “But I will try.”
The ends of lips twitched, threatening to turn up into a smile.
“You’re just like your father. You don’t know how to leave well enough alone.
” He paused for a moment, silently reminiscing over his old friend.
As he thought, the light playfulness hovering over his lips fell and his serious tone returned.
“Just be careful. You never know what monsters you’ll find when you go snooping around in the dark. ”
Nodding, I pretended to heed his warning. He knew better than me that finding monsters was part of the job description. After capturing so many, the thought of them didn’t scare me anymore.
I gave him one last wave and continued my stride towards my home. The house, cloaked in darkness, was almost completely silent when I walked inside. Only the robotic voice of my alarm system chimed from my entrance.
I flicked on the hallway light and re-armed the security system before heading upstairs. Now comfortable in my own space, my muscles roared from the tussle. It was nothing a hot shower couldn’t fix.
After a quick trip to my room to grab some pajamas, I headed into the bathroom.
I stood under the shower head for a while, letting the hot water roll over my aching muscles.
The sticky sensation of dried blood lingered on my skin.
I scrubbed and scrubbed, desperate to try to wash it off.
As much as I wanted to believe Lorenzo’s death wasn’t my fault, I couldn't get rid of the guilt that I should’ve done more to keep him safe.
When the power went out, I should’ve run straight to him.
I knew he was paranoid. I knew he was afraid.
It was wrong to assume he’d come to me without hesitation.
If I’d been in the room a few moments earlier, maybe I would’ve caught our intruder.
Seen him climbing out of the shadows and apprehended him before he could draw his weapon.
He would be in cuffs and Lorenzo would still be breathing.
The time in the shower would be the last I’d dwell on it.
Something I learned early on was that I couldn’t take my losses home with me.
Not unless I wanted to be eaten alive by guilt.
So, I gave myself time to mourn, to acknowledge my mistakes, and make a plan for how to fix them.
In almost every case, my solution was to put the culprit behind bars.
And this time would be no different. I was going to make sure justice for Lorenzo’s death was served - no matter what it took.
I spent most of the night tossing and turning. My brain refused to turn off, relentless in its pursuit to start a roadmap to lead me towards the darkest corners where my culprit likely hid. It wouldn’t rest until I had a tiny beeline of where to start.