Chapter 3 #2
Amir grins. “Whoops.”
“He called you, didn't he?”
Amir shrugs, heading to the front door. “What can I say? The man is desperate.”
When the front door slams shut, I enter the living room and stare at the box of donuts. I should toss these in the trash. I should forget they exist. I should not be interested. They’re fatty, full of sugar, and horrible for my health.
I pick up an old-fashioned style donut and, despite all my resignation, take a bite.
And another. And another.
Because a crumb is never enough.
God, this is pathetic. I am pathetic. The pink box of donuts—now only holding ten pastries versus the original twelve—rests on my palm as I hover by the reception desk of the NYC Field Office.
I should’ve never read those files. I should’ve never let him slither into my brain.
But damn it, I need to know. I need more information.
“Hi, I’m here to see—”
“Dr. Hadid!” I spin around to find Agent Gates strutting toward me, grinning triumphantly. She smiles down at the receptionist. “We’ll need an ID Badge for Dr. Hadid.” She glances at me, hesitant. “Visitor badge or…?”
I straighten my shoulders. “I’d like to speak with Agent Kane.”
“He’s in the command center with the rest of the team.” Agent Gates gestures down the hall. “After you.” In a hushed tone, she whispers to the receptionist, “Consultant badge.”
I bite my tongue, refusing to acknowledge her unwarranted assumption. The command center comes into view, and Agent Gates swipes her badge, the doors electronically clicking open.
With a leveling breath, I enter the state-of-the-art facility.
The room buzzes with activity, the walls lined with screens that display maps, photos, and surveillance footage.
A large digital whiteboard dominates one wall, covered in scribbled notes and timelines.
Half a dozen agents mill about, some huddled over laptops, others talking on the phone.
A few large tables are cluttered with case files, coffee cups, and take-out containers.
Agent Kane stands in the center of the room, his eyes sharp and focused. He looks up as I enter, nodding with a smirk.
“Dr. Hadid, what a pleasure. I’m so glad you could join us.
” Before I have a chance to pull him to the side, he addresses the rest of the team.
“Everyone, this is Dr. Safia Hadid; she’ll be the head profiler on the case.
” He whips his attention back to me, a dark gleam of victory rippling across his features. “Would you like to meet the team, doc?”
I grit my teeth as Agent Gates subtly removes the box of donuts from my hand and places it on the communal table. “Sure.”
Agent Kane rounds his desk, silently gathering the team in the semicircle.
“You know Gigi,” he says, gesturing to Agent Gates.
She gives me a friendly nod. “And this is Fitz.” I glance at his badge.
Agent Shawn Fitzgerald is a supervisory special agent—the same rank as Kane.
I wonder why he wasn’t tasked with leading this investigation. I push the thought aside for now.
Agent Kane continues. “This is Chris Conrad.” Chris is handsome, with blonde hair and rugged features. He nods at me, a half-smile playing on his lips.
Kane introduces Sam Williams next. Sam recently joined the New York Field Office, previously teaching at Quantico. He stands with his strong shoulders squared, his demeanor serious and stoic.
“And this is Zoella Di Rossi,” Kane says.
I frown at the name, recognizing it from the papers.
Zoella is the daughter of a member of The Angels, a notorious NYC crime family currently on trial.
The FBI flipped her, and now I guess she’s one of us.
Kane adds, “Zoey is freshly out of Quantico. Our new rookie analyst.”
I nod politely as he introduces a few other agents and technicians, cementing their names and faces to memory.
“Alright,” Kane says, turning back to me. “Let's get to work.”
I refuse to let history repeat itself. With Agent Reese, I was merely a tool—a human computer that he could shut off whenever it was convenient for him to do so. He used me, feeding me information and twisting my findings to align with his career aspirations.
I was never fully part of the team. I had my lane, and I was never allowed into his. But for me to do my job with certainty, clarity, and confidence, I need access—full access.
“Can I have a word with you, Agent Kane?”
“You can call me Theo,” he says, strutting toward me. He grins down at the box of donuts. “A bit of a stereotype, don’t you think?”
I cast him a wry expression. “Those are from Amir. I heard you’ve met.”
Agent Kane hitches a nonchalant shoulder. “Perhaps.” He cocks his head, taking in my irked posture. “Well? Go on. Say what you need to say. I can see it festering on the tip of your tongue.”
He’s insufferable.
“You told me yesterday that either I’m in or I’m out.” I take a purposeful step toward him, closing the short distance between us. I tilt my chin, glaring up at him as I state, “Well, I’m here. I’m in. And that better mean the same thing to you as it does to me.”
His sweet breath fans against my lips as he says, “And what does that mean to you, doc?”
“It means that I get all the same privileges as you. If you’re knocking on doors, if you’re interviewing witnesses, I better be there, right beside you. I will not be left in the dark.”
He smirks, chuckling under his breath. “Scared of the dark?”
“No.”
“That’s too bad.” He arches over, whispering in my ear, “You should be.”