Chapter Fifty-Four
Defense Intelligence Headquarters
Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling
Washington, DC
Samantha Ranger had just reached for her coat when a quiet knock sounded at her office door.
Before she could answer, the door opened, and her assistant stepped inside with an apologetic look on his face, holding a manila folder in his hand.
Clipped neatly to the two bottom corners were black colored tabs, which meant that whatever was in the folder was urgent.
“It’s from your friend at the NSA,” her assistant said, placing the folder on her desk with deliberate care. “It just came in. I’m sorry.”
Ranger didn’t move for a moment. She was already halfway into the mental transition between work and home, where dinner with her sister and a glass of wine were waiting for her. But now, with the folder resting like a loaded weapon on her desk, she shook her head. Her sister would have to wait.
She sighed, slipped out of her coat, and sank slowly back into the chair behind her desk.
“Thank you,” Ranger said to her assistant. “I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”
Her assistant nodded and backed out of the office, then closed the door behind him without another word.
Ranger opened the folder, and her eyes immediately caught on the subject line.
Hernandez, Mia.
Her breath stilled as she flipped through the pages. The file was filled with passenger manifests, flagged metadata, boarding time stamps, and airport-security photos. The weight of what she was seeing settled deep in her chest.
Shit.
Mia Hernandez had flown out of Miami that morning, connected through LaGuardia, and arrived in Portland, Maine, late this afternoon. TSA hadn’t flagged her, but the NSA, at Ranger’s request, had.
For a long moment, Ranger didn’t move.
Mia’s in Portland. Caspian is in Portland. And so is his brother, Nelson.
Ranger didn’t believe in coincidence. She believed in timing, pattern recognition, and her gut.
Caspian had debriefed her about Nelson’s meeting with Everett Westcott.
They would talk again about it the next day, but tonight Caspian was at his parents’ house to celebrate Elizabeth Anderson’s birthday.
Had Westcott figured out Nelson wasn’t working alone? If he had, it meant that Nelson was now a target. Ranger ran a hand down her face, trying to stay calm, but her pulse continued to climb.
Damn it.
It was possible she was wrong, that Mia Hernandez was in Portland for something that was unrelated to Nelson or Caspian. But it wasn’t likely.
Ranger picked up her desk phone and dialed Caspian’s number.