CHAPTER TWO
The FBI’s Washington office never sounded quiet.
Badge readers clicked. Phones chirped. Printers worked beyond the cubicle rows with a tired rhythm. Voices moved through the floor in low currents, clipped and professional, all of them pretending urgency was the same thing as order.
Selena Raven stood beside Tanya Bell’s cubicle with a file tucked under one arm and no real reason to still be there except that Tanya had begun a story too ridiculous to abandon halfway through.
Tanya sat against the edge of her desk, one heel hooked on the chair base, the other foot tapping against the carpet.
Brown hair fell around her shoulders in loose waves, one bright flick of blond near her temple.
In her mid-twenties, she had the distracted energy of someone who might misplace her own phone while holding it, yet somehow never lost a form, receipt, travel voucher, or signature page.
Selena had always liked that contradiction.
“He dumped me over steak,” Tanya said.
Selena blinked. “Over steak?”
“Not because of the steak. During the steak. Which is worse.”
“That depends on the steak.”
Tanya pointed at her. “Don’t make jokes. This is my tragedy.”
“Fine. What happened?”
“He takes me to this fancy restaurant,” Tanya said.
“The kind where the waiter says the specials like he’s confessing state secrets.
I’m sitting there thinking maybe this is going somewhere.
Maybe he’s about to ask me to meet his parents, or go away for the weekend, or finally stop saying his roommate is complicated. ”
“Was the roommate complicated?”
“She was a woman named Bree who wore his hoodies.”
“That’s usually not a good sign.”
“I know that now.” Tanya folded her arms. “Anyway, we order. Wine arrives. He waits until I’ve taken two bites of my steak, then puts down his fork and says we should talk.”
Selena made a face. “Oh dear.”
“Exactly. He then just broke it off, mid-chew.”
“What reason did he give?”
Tanya lifted both hands. “He said we didn’t click.”
Selena stared at her. “That’s a poor excuse.”
“You’re tellin’ me. We clicked enough for him to sleep with me six times!”
Selena laughed before she could stop herself, then leaned closer. “Keep your voice down.”
Tanya’s eyes widened with wounded dignity. “I’m glad you find my love life amusing.”
“To be fair, he’s your third boyfriend in six months, and usually it’s you that does the dumping.”
“That’s not the point.”
Tanya looked away, trying to remain offended. The attempt failed after three seconds. “All right, to be fair, I was going to dump him anyway.”
Selena tilted her head. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Tanya sighed. “We just didn’t click.”
The laugh that followed broke some of the morning’s stiffness. Selena had spent the first two hours at her desk sorting reports that needed less reading than surviving. Her inbox had swollen again, and her calendar had too many review meetings.
Washington had taken her back as if she had never left.
Case briefings, internal politics, evidence summaries, sharp questions from people who enjoyed finding soft spots in someone else’s report.
Selena had moved through it all with the same discipline she always had, yet some part of her kept listening to tires on a rural road, county radio static, Connor Chase’s voice from across a sheriff’s office.
That annoyed her more than anything. A splinter she could never quite remove.
A shadow fell across the cubicle entrance.
“Well,” Brent Mayfield said, “what’s so funny, ladies?”
Tanya straightened at once. Selena did not.
Brent stood with one hand braced on the cubicle wall, handsome in the overly maintained way of men who knew every angle of a mirror.
Late thirties, clean jaw, tailored shirt, hair swept into a perfect side part that looked as if a strong wind would need permission before moving it.
He had charm when he wanted to spend it and a habit of treating flirtation like sport.
Tanya recovered first. “We’re laughing at my love life.”
Brent winced with theatrical sympathy. “That bad?”
“Worse.”
“It isn’t easy out there,” he said.
“It’s hard to find a good man.”
Brent looked at Selena. “You should tell this one that.”
A small heat touched the back of Selena’s neck. “Leave me out of this.”
Tanya looked between them, interest sharpening her face. “I thought you two were building up to something.”
“So did I,” Brent said. “But ever since she came back from Harlan County, I don’t get a look in.”
Selena kept her expression even. “It’s not like that, Brent.”
“No?”
“You’re hardly Mr. Monogamous.”
“I could be.”
“That’s a theory with no evidence to back it up.”
Brent smiled, taking the hit without losing confidence. “Then let’s test it. Tonight. You, me, a bottle of wine, and a good movie at my place.”
Tanya’s mouth opened, seemingly delighted by the audacity, and more than likely happy someone else’s love life was on display rather than hers.
Selena saw Meg Calloway before Brent did.
Section Chief Calloway had stopped two feet behind him, gray hair pulled back cleanly, arms relaxed at her sides, a file tucked beneath one elbow. Her expression barely moved, which made it worse.
“I hope that’s a joke, Mr. Mayfield,” Meg said, “or you could end up reprimanded for inappropriate behavior towards a fellow agent.”
Brent’s posture changed so quickly it almost became a separate person. His hand dropped from the cubicle wall. “No, boss. Just joking.”
“Good. There’s a stack of paperwork with your name on it at your desk. Get to it.”
“Aye, aye, cap’n.”
Brent gave Selena a look that tried to be amused and wounded at the same time, then moved off down the aisle.
Tanya watched him go. “He walks like he thinks we’re all salivating over him.”
Meg turned to Tanya for a moment. “And Ms. Bell, save the dating autopsies for lunch.”
Tanya nodded.
Meg’s gaze shifted to Tanya, then to Selena. “Raven. Walk with me for a moment.”
That tone closed the subject. It was business now rather than office banter.
Selena gave Tanya a friendly smile and followed Meg away from the cubicles, past a row of desks where agents looked busy enough not to look interested.
“Thanks for intervening there,” Selena said once they were clear. “Brent can be a handful sometimes.”
“Don’t get too thankful. You might want to throw something at me in a second.”
Selena looked down at the file beneath Meg’s arm. “What’s that?”
“Your next assignment.”
A familiar sensation moved through Selena. More recognition that a quiet morning had just ended.
“What is it?”
“A homicide that requires your expertise. A local sheriff’s department asked for assistance. I’ve assigned you.”
Selena stopped near an empty conference room. “You’re mothballing me again for a single murder?”
Meg turned back. “That’s an uncharitable description.”
“It was accurate last time.”
“Last time, you solved three murders and helped a county avoid panic.”
“Last time, I was being moved out of Washington because leadership here didn’t like having their assumptions corrected in a politically motivated investigation. I thought you said the higher-ups were off my back for now.”
“They are, for the time being.”
“Then why this?”
Meg adjusted the file under her arm. “Because you were specifically requested, and I hate turning down a handsome sheriff who asks politely.”
The slow drone of the office whispered away for a moment.
The word sheriff did the damage before the file could.
Selena felt her mouth go dry. “No.”
Meg said nothing.
Selena tried again. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I rarely kid.”
“Meg...”
The older woman handed her the file.
Selena took it but didn’t open it right away. Her fingers rested on the cover. A ridiculous part of her wanted to hand it back unread.
Eventually, professional habit won.
The first page showed the case header.
Harlan County Sheriff’s Department.
Victim: Warren Holt.
Location: Old Ridge Hunting Lodge.
Selena closed the file.
Meg watched her. “You read fast.”
“I only needed the top line.” She stared at the black and white letters and almost whispered “Harlan County...”
Tanya's voice floated from behind them as she walked towards them. "Harlan County? Isn't that where your Sheriff is, Selena?"
Selena turned. Tanya had drifted to the end of the cubicle row with a stack of envelopes in her hand and the guilty face of a woman who had not meant to overhear but had enjoyed it once it happened.
“He’s not my sheriff,” Selena said.
Tanya held up the envelopes. “You did divorce fifteen years ago, but you have a twinkle in your eye whenever you talk about him. But don’t mind me, I’m nothing to do with this. I’m just delivering mail.”
“Of course you are.”
Meg looked at Tanya. “Ms. Bell.”
Tanya straightened. “Sorry, ma’am.”
“Stay or go. But if you stay, don’t pretend you’re not listening.”
Tanya considered that, then took two steps closer. “I’ll stay.”
Selena looked at Meg. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“You know why not, boss.”
“I know several reasons you think are reasons.”
“That sentence makes me feel this is more than just a request.”
“You’re best suited for this.” Meg nodded toward the file. “You know the lay of the land. You grew up there. You solved the Nolan Pruitt murders there a couple of months ago. Local law enforcement trusts you. People in that county know your name.”
“That isn’t always an advantage.”
“No. But in this case, it might be.”
Selena opened the file again, this time forcing herself to look past the county name.
Scene photographs had been clipped to the first report.
A man slumped forward at a long table. Blood across white paper.
A hunting lodge with dirty windows and a tired roof line.
A pickup outside with something tied down beneath ropes.
Warren Holt.
The name tugged at memory but didn’t fully catch. Harlan County had been full of men like that when she was young. Men with weathered hands, hunting caps, and opinions they shared whether anyone had asked or not.
Connor would know him.
That thought came too quickly.