CHAPTER ONE #2
Meg folded her arms. “Local law enforcement requested FBI assistance because they feel it’s outside of their skill-set. It’s a ritualistic homicide. Staged scene. Rural county. The local sheriff believes it may be the start of something bigger and they need help on this one.”
Selena’s hand remained on the folder. “And they need me specifically because?”
“Harlan County asked for bureau support. Your name came up when the higher-ups were looking to assign an agent.”
A moment passed with a sigh. “This seems like cruel and unusual punishment,” she grumbled.
Meg let out a laugh. “I think that might be the point.”
Selena flipped the folder open.
Crime scene photos sat clipped inside. Church interior. Candles. Stone. A body in a chair. Even printed small, the image had enough wrongness in it to quiet the room around her. Something about the scene looked familiar.
“My God,” Selena said. “Is this St. Bart’s?”
Meg answered quickly. “I don’t know the details. Everything should be there. Is it somewhere you know?”
Selena nodded. “You could say that.”
Meg watched her read.
Selena went still in the way she always did when she was absorbing details fast. The sheriff’s initial notes were clipped behind the photos.
Female victim. Mid-thirties. Body posed in choir loft of abandoned church.
Script written on wall. Possible Latin. No immediate suspect.
Scene preserved for further investigation.
The location line sat near the top.
Harlan County.
Her eyes held there a fraction too long. Too many memories. Too much heartbreak. It was almost overwhelming.
Then she closed the folder.
“Can’t they send anyone else?”
Meg didn’t answer right away, which told Selena more than the answer itself would have. If there was a way out, Meg would have given it to her.
Outside the conference room, office noise carried faintly through the glass. Phones. Footsteps. Somebody laughing too loudly down the hall. Inside, the room seemed to tighten around the question.
“At the moment,” Meg said, “some of the higher-ups would like you out of Washington for a bit.”
Selena stared at her. “Because I solved their case?”
“Because you solved it in a way that embarrassed people who don’t enjoy being embarrassed.”
“That’s bullshit.” Selena was pushing her anger down. But she didn’t know what leaving Washington would look like. She prided herself on getting this far, working the hard cases. If that was taken away? Selena felt a pulse of fear shudder through her at the thought.
Meg smiled softly. “It’s wrong. But this will also get you out of here for a while until they forget you exist and move on to their next annoyance. Being noticed isn’t always a positive.”
The calm agreement took some of the force out of Selena’s anger, which only annoyed her more.
Meg went on. “It’s also the kind of bullshit that might save your career from unnecessary friction.”
Selena stepped away from the table and folded her arms, then unfolded them again. Restlessness moved through her like a current. “So, this is me being thrown on the trash heap.”
“No. This is a temporary reassignment to a case that genuinely needs a strong investigator.”
“It’s pettiness by those who can’t stand being wrong, Meg. You know it.”
“Call it whatever helps you pack. There’s no way out of this. Besides, it’ll be good for you to go home. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”
Selena let out a breath through her nose and turned toward the dead screen at the front of the room.
Her reflection stared back at her in black glass.
Dark suit. Pale blouse. Hair pinned neatly at the nape.
Younger than her forty years. Composed, if you didn’t know where to look. Meg knew where to look.
“Harlan County,” Selena said quietly.
“Yes.”
“Not just near it. It is home, Meg. You know I haven’t been for years, and the issues with my dad and sister…”
“I’m aware.”
That almost made her smile. Meg only used that tone when she thought Selena was wasting both their time.
Meg tapped the folder with one finger. “You might as well do some good over there. The sheriff’s office called for help because the scene bothered them. That matters. They need an expert. That’s you.”
Selena glanced down at the file again.
One image had stayed with her already. The chair in the choir loft.
The body arranged with care. The kind of staging that said the killer hadn’t simply wanted someone dead.
He had wanted something stated. Something seen.
She would have been lying to herself if she’d told someone it wasn’t intriguing. But why did it have to be that church?
“Who’s the sheriff now?” she asked.
Meg’s face did not change, but Selena knew her well enough to catch the nearly invisible hesitation.
“It’s in the file when you have a chance to go over it… But… That’s… That’s where there’s a slight complication.”
Selena didn’t like the sound of that. “What sort of complication?”
“It’s a Sheriff Chase who is the lead in Harlan County.”
Selena felt her blood pressure rise.
Connor Chase.
Of course it was Connor Chase.
The county had not frozen in time waiting for her, but apparently one part of it had remained exactly where she left it. Sheriff now instead of deputy, maybe. Older. Harder around the edges. Still there. A link to the past she had amputated from her life a long time ago.
Still in Harlan County.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Selena said, rubbing her forehead with her finger for a moment. “Wouldn’t it be wiser to send someone who didn’t divorce the investigating sheriff?”
Meg studied her. “You can do this job, Selena. It has to be you, I’m afraid. I can’t go back and reassign, the higher-ups were quite clear about that.”
Selena picked up the folder again, more to occupy her hands than because she needed another look. “You really think sending me back there for a few weeks is going to cool people off around here?”
“I think it gets you out of the line of fire while this briefing ripples upward. I think it puts a very good agent on a case that could turn into something ugly. I think it reminds certain people that the Bureau sends its best where they’re most useful.”
“That almost sounded flattering.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
A reluctant smile touched Selena’s mouth and disappeared just as quickly.
The realization of it all hit Selena. “I don’t want to lose my assignment here. My whole life is here. Friends, colleagues, everything I’ve built.”
She caught her reflection in the glass doors nearby. Now was she suddenly looking older? Age was death by a thousand cuts. It almost felt like being put out to harvest.
Sympathy washed over Meg’s expression. “I know how hard you’ve worked to be here.
This isn’t the end. It’s just a little step back.
” Meg reached into her jacket pocket and produced a folded sheet of paper.
“I already booked you a flight. Oh, and if you have to, try to bury the hatchet with your ex-husband, not in him.”
That got a real laugh out of Selena, brief but genuine.
It faded fast as she took the paper from Meg.
“Go to this place,” Meg said. “Help how you can. Then come back better for it.”
Selena glanced once more at the photos inside the folder.
Church stone. Candle wax. The dead woman’s folded hands.
Beneath the clean lines of report language and the professional detachment she wore like skin, something older had begun to stir.
Not fear exactly. Not even dread. More like a seam she had spent years keeping sealed had been touched and found weaker than she’d believed.
Meg’s voice softened a notch, which for her was practically tenderness. “Look at it this way. It’s a good way to reconnect with your past for a few weeks and catch up with people you haven’t seen for years.”
Selena closed the folder.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”