Chapter 8
I t took six days for Callie and Lyda to decode and translate Liza’s files.
Of course, the decoding had taken much longer.
In the end, Callie had to stop thinking about the letters as letters and start treating them as symbols.
They were letters. But her mind couldn’t separate decoding them from trying to read them, trying to make them make sense, and it kept slowing her down.
Once she forced her brain to not think of them as letters that should make sense but didn’t, it had gone a lot faster.
Letting herself into her small Foggy Bottom apartment in DC, she hung her jacket up on the coat rack and dragged her roller board to her room, dropping her computer bag in the tiny office as she passed.
Despite the fact that it was only nine o’clock at night—even earlier for her body clock—exhaustion washed through her at the sight of her bed.
On a sigh, she turned from the temptation.
She only had a few days of leave left, and she wanted to comb through the files in a way she hadn’t had time to in New Mexico.
She also needed to eat, although she had no idea what her cupboards held after almost two weeks away.
Kicking off her heeled boots, she changed from her jeans and sweater into a pair of leggings and a thick FBI sweatshirt, then wandered back to the kitchen. Not bothering with the refrigerator, she checked the freezer and found a bag of Trader Joe’s frozen dumplings. Good enough.
As she heated the pan, she turned her mind to Liza’s files and the question that had been teasing her since she and Lyda completed the translations.
Why had Liza kept the information—dates, observations, and potential theories—from her official records and left the USB to Callie?
It was interesting data, but there was nothing concrete.
Nothing to tell her why Liza had gone to that club when she had or what she thought she’d find.
Her stomach twisted, imagining that night.
At the thought of Liza caught in that chaos.
Had she died quickly? Or had she been injured, aware of what was happening, frightened, perhaps thinking of her mother?
In the end, had she figured out that she’d been set up?
Callie didn’t have proof of that, not yet, but she’d find it.
Turning the stove off, she tossed the bag of dumplings back in the freezer. She’d eat later. For now, she had work to do.
Callie tapped the stack of papers against the surface of her desk, aligning the pages, then slid her slim findings into a folder.
Glancing at the clock on her computer, she watched it roll over from one minute to the next.
Still fifteen minutes to go before she met with her supervisor, assistant director in charge, Greg Chrome.
A knock on her door sounded, and she called for them to enter. A second later, Nate Erickson poked his head in.
“You got a minute?” he asked. She nodded and he slipped inside, moving more gracefully than such a tall man should.
“What’s up?” she asked. “Please tell me nothing’s gone sideways on the Navios case?”
He grinned. “Nothing’s gone sideways on the Navios case. The prosecutors are delighted—their words, not mine—with the evidence we handed over.”
She let out a small breath of relief. She’d stepped into that case a month ago when she’d traveled to Mystery Lake to talk with Gabriel about Laura Nolan the first time. She’d set aside her questions to help deal with the very recent murder of Lina Kato’s father.
“While you’ve been away, Chrome has been on a rampage,” he said.
She made a face. “Worse than usual?” Chrome had joined the team a little over a year earlier and, in his short time, had made it clear that it was his way or the highway.
When anyone questioned him, he touted his closure rate.
But what he failed to note was that he only agreed to take on the most straightforward cases—cases that local law enforcement could close on their own—and that the turnover rate of his team was the highest in the Bureau.
That second fact was anecdotal, but it was a hot topic at the water cooler.
“I’ve been offered a job in the Chicago office,” Nate said.
“Take it,” Callie replied without missing a beat.
Nate scrunched his nose. “Not even a token you-can’t-go-because-I’ll-miss-you?”
Callie laughed. She and Nate had worked together for more than six years and as close as she got to having friends, he was one of the few in that circle.
“Of course I’ll miss you. And I’ll be jealous that you’ll be working under Denise Howard, right?
” He nodded. “I’ve heard nothing but good things about her. ”
“Me, too,” Nate agreed.
“Not to mention all four of your brothers are in Chicago, as well as your parents,” she added. Not all families were close—her own being case in point—but Nate’s was. “And then there’s Mel?—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Nate interrupted.
She grinned. “The price to pay for having one too many and spilling your guts to me three holiday parties ago. If she’s really the one who got away, being in the same city gives you the option of seeing if something’s still between you.
” She’d lost her chance with Gabriel all those years ago, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want happy-ever-afters for other people.
Nate let his head fall back. “She still might not see me as anything other than a friend.”
“Only one way to find out. And?—”
“I’ll regret it if I don’t try?”
She laughed. “I will miss you finishing my sentences.”
“Liar. You find it annoying.”
“A little,” she agreed, smiling. Then, pausing, she studied him. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of turning it down.”
He hesitated. “No, not really. But…”
Then it hit her, and her heart warmed a little. “But if you do, I’ll be the only one left of the original crew, other than Osborn, who doesn’t count, and you’re worried about leaving me behind.”
He made another face. “Does that seem patronizing? It’s not like you can’t take care of yourself or that you haven’t had other offers.”
She could and she had—one offer from the New York office and two from private companies.
But she didn’t want to leave until she made progress on Liza’s case.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t work on it in a different job, but if she started somewhere new, she’d want to focus on building trust and learning her teammates’ strengths and weaknesses.
“I appreciate it, Nate. Really, I do. But I’ll be fine. Maybe I’ll stay, maybe I won’t. And besides, if you don’t go, what happens if I decide I do want to take another offer? Am I supposed to stay here for you?”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’d never want you to stay to keep me company, and yes, I hate that you have a point. A valid one.”
“Life is more than work, Nate,” she said. A true statement for most people, if not for her. “You have family and maybe more in Chicago. If you don’t take this opportunity, I may have to stop working with you anyway because I’d question your sanity. Or your priorities.”
He shot her a sardonic look. “Doesn’t the job always come first?”
She met his with one of her own. “Not for normal people, no. Or it shouldn’t.”
“You are normal, Callie.”
She was in the normal range of fucked up, but not normal-normal.
She didn’t want to get into that with Nate, though.
It was an old argument. Instead, she gave a little shrug and picked up the file she’d compiled based on Liza’s information.
“I have a meeting with Chrome now. Wanna come?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows as she rose.
“Not a chance,” he replied, rising as well.
“When are you going to accept the offer?”
“Pushy much?”
“It’s my best quality.”
He bobbed his head. “I don’t know if I’d say it’s your best quality, but I won’t argue that it’s come in handy in the past. Good luck with, well, whatever you’re talking with him about.”
“I’ll need it,” she replied. “More than you know,” she whispered to herself as she rounded the corner and headed to her supervisor’s office.
Marie, his assistant, waved her in when she approached. Callie knocked on the door before opening it and poking her head in. Chrome’s bald patch glistened in the bright light of his office as he studied a document on his desk.
“Yes, Agent Parks?” he asked, not looking up.
“I’d like permission to reopen the Elizabeth Lightfoot investigation,” she said, holding on to her file. She wouldn’t hand it over unless he seemed mildly receptive.
He looked up. “There is no investigation. Agent Lightfoot was on vacation and was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The French authorities found the group responsible for the bomb and prosecuted them to the full extent of the law. There’s nothing more to say.”
“She was looking into a connection between US companies and the group responsible for the bomb,” Callie pressed.
Chrome’s predecessor would have asked her why she thought she had grounds to reopen the case.
The fact that Chrome hadn’t didn’t surprise her.
Disappointed her, yes, but didn’t surprise her.
“The Bureau moved all her open investigations and cases to qualified agents. If there was something to be found, they would have found it.”
Callie acknowledged the direct hit in that comment.
None of Liza’s cases had been assigned to her.
But while her confidence was strong enough to withstand Chrome’s implication, it didn’t change the fact that he had no respect for her.
Or really any agent who didn’t think he walked on water.
Nor would he agree to reopen the investigation.
She waited to feel the weight of disappointment.
When it didn’t come, she realized just how low her expectations of Chrome had fallen.
She’d never anticipated his support. She’d hoped it would be different, hoped that maybe this time he’d ask why.
But deep down, she hadn’t expected anything different.
“I have new evidence,” she said, giving it one more shot.
His eyes narrowed. “And when did you come across this ‘new evidence’?”
She sensed a trap. “I looked into a few things on my personal time.”
“You don’t have personal time, Agent Parks. Not when it comes to investigating cases, old or new. If you’re investigating, it’s Bureau time, and I recall expressly telling you six months ago not to waste more time or resources on investigations I haven’t personally assigned to you.”
She clenched her jaw to keep from snapping back that she could do both—manage her caseload and look into Liza’s murder. The only thing stopping her—other than her lockjaw imitation—was the memory of Liza’s voice.
Drop it, Callie, Liza had said during a particularly complex money laundering case.
They’re never going to see it your way if you beat them over the head.
Not even if you’re right, which you are.
So, let’s take a breather, focus on our end game, and figure out a different way to get from here to there .
And they had. They’d gotten the arrest and eventually a prosecution. The one no one else in the Bureau believed they’d get. All because she’d stepped back, taken a breather, and focused on the end game.
Callie nodded. “Of course, sir,” she said, turning to leave.
“Parks,” he barked as she reached the door.
She turned. “I will write you up for misusing FBI resources if you pursue this any further. You’ve been warned twice now.
You so much as dream of bringing this up again, it’s not only misuse but insubordination.
You’re relatively intelligent. You know what will happen after that. ”
Anger flared inside her, burning through her body. But Chrome would have her escorted from the building if she said the words hovering on her tongue. Then she’d lose any chance of investigating and the opportunity to clear out her desk.
She’d take the L for today’s battle, but she wasn’t out of the war.
With a curt nod, she turned and walked out.