“You’re saying it wasn’t you, is that what you want me to believe?”
“Correct. Until someone proves otherwise, please stop saying I’m to blame.”
“What about the girl with the baby in the video? That’s the stripper from the club that you talked to, isn’t it? What if she steps forward, and says it was you? How do you plan to wiggle your way out of that?”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“You’re saying that she’s gone in the wind?”
Jon said nothing, confirming her suspicion. Every person that broke the law screwed up, even the smart ones. She wasn’t ready to let go just yet.
“The video has over three hundred thousand views,” she said. “A viewer is going to notice the way you beat those guys up. You knocked out one with a knee to the jaw, and the second by sweeping out his legs from under him. You told me that’s part of your SEAL training. Don’t use your fists because it’s too easy to break your hand. Better to use your head, or an elbow, or a knee. This is going to come back and bite you, Jon.”
“Not using your fists is part of most martial arts training.” He paused. “The guy in the video could have been anyone. Stop saying it was me, or I’ll hang up.”
“You are something else.”
“My turn. Last night, you told me that your boss told you to take me off the case, and that we couldn’t talk anymore. What changed?”
“Nothing changed. I just had to call you.”
“I hope it doesn’t lead to trouble.”
There was real compassion in his voice, and she realized that he meant it. That was the thing about Jon; she could dress him down, call him terrible names, and it didn’t seem to diminish his feelings toward her.
“Nor do I,” she said.
She heard a click, indicating another call had come in. She pulled her cell phone away from her face and stared at the screen. It was Karen McDonald calling, perhaps with an update on J. T.’s condition. Bringing the phone back to her face, she said, “I’ve got another call from a colleague. I’ll call you later. Please try and stay out of trouble.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
She disconnected and picked up Karen’s call.
“Hey, Karen. Any news?”
“The hospital just released a statement,” her colleague said. “There’s good news and bad news. The good news is that J. T.’s a strong son of a bitch, and is going to live. The bad news is, the stroke occurred on the left side of his brain, so the right side of his body was affected. He has partial paralysis and can’t speak. With therapy, the doctors think he’s going to be okay, but it’s going to take time.”
Daniels realized she was crying. Wiping away the tears, she said, “J. T. not able to speak? I can’t imagine that.”
“You and me both.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Keep praying. I’ll call you with any updates.”
“I will. Thanks, Karen.”
Ending the call, she went into the bathroom and washed her face. J. T. wasn’t the easiest boss, and had always pressed her to do better. But he’d always had her back, and like a safety net, he had been there to catch her when she’d screwed up.
She thought back to their last conversation. J. T. had flown to Tampa for the express purpose of telling her to pull Jon off the case. In hindsight, she realized how unusual that was. When an FBI director issued an order, it was done in memo form, which was emailed to the agent, with a copy put in the agent’s file. That way, if the agent did not comply, there was documented evidence that could lead to the agent being punished or dismissed.
But J. T. hadn’t sent a memo. Or had he? She got dozens of emails a day, and there was the chance that J. T.’s memo had escaped her notice. She needed to check, so she got on her laptop and loaded her email, where she found sixty-five messages waiting in her inbox.
She read every single one. None were from J. T. There was no evidence of him telling her to pull Jon off the case. It was like it had never happened. And with J. T. now in the hospital, unable to speak, she could safely say that it hadn’t happened. Everything was status quo.
She wanted to call Jon back, and relay the good news. But before she did that, there was the matter of the agent on her team who’d betrayed her. She’d never had a knife stuck in her back before, and it hurt like hell.
Her team was buried in work when she entered the basement conference room. A box of freshly baked Dunkin’ Donuts sat on the table, and she peeked inside. They had saved her one. She didn’t believe in beating around the bush, and she crossed her arms and told everyone to stop what they were doing. Closing their laptops, they turned in their swivel chairs to face her.
“As you’ve probably heard, J. T. suffered a stroke and is in the hospital,” she said. “The word from the doctors is he’s going to survive, but his recovery will be slow. Please say a prayer for his speedy recovery.
“Last night, I learned that one of you went behind my back, and contacted J. T. in order to voice your displeasure over the fact that Jon Lancaster was brought into the investigation. I have a problem with that, and I’m going to explain to you why.
“I don’t expect for you to agree with every decision I make, but I do expect you to respect my decisions, nonetheless. If you think I’ve done something wrong, I expect you to come directly to me. Not doing that is a betrayal.
“I handpicked each one of you to be on my team, and would like to believe that I’ve been a pretty good boss. One of you obviously feels otherwise.
“I want to know who did this. I can find out one of two ways. I can confiscate your cell phones and laptops, do a search, and see which one of you contacted J. T. I personally find this approach distasteful, because it means that I have to look at everyone’s communications, and I’m sure you all have things you’d wish I didn’t see.”
Her team shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. Hurting all of them because one had erred wasn’t fair, but she didn’t care. She was going to get to the bottom of this, one way or another.
“The second option is that the guilty agent come forward. By doing that, the rest of the team won’t suffer. There’s a smoking area behind the hotel. I’m going there to wait. If the guilty agent doesn’t come out in five minutes, I’ll confiscate your devices.”
She uncrossed her arms and searched their faces. To say that she’d put the fear of God into them was an understatement, and she hoped it produced the desired result. She took the last doughnut before leaving.
The smoking area was shaded and had a bench. She sat on one end and muted her cell phone. She was betting that the guilty agent was apologizing to the rest of the team for bringing this on them, and would be joining her shortly.
A minute later, Otto West came outside. He was her favorite on the team, and she was saddened by his poor choice. She patted the bench, and he sat on the opposite end.
“It was me,” he said.
She waited for more, and realized that nothing was forthcoming.
“Are you going to apologize, ask me not to fire you?” she asked.
“If I did, I would be lying,” he said.
“So you think I made a bad choice. Why not come to me, and say so? We could have gone for a run, and you could have brought it up, and said what was on your mind. I wouldn’t have had an issue with that.”
West rested his elbows on his knees and looked straight ahead. She always considered it a bad sign when a person wouldn’t look her in the eye during a conversation; it was an indication that a trust had been broken.
“This is different,” he said.
“How is it different?”
“Jon Lancaster is a loose cannon. He does things that would get any of us fired. We all watched a YouTube video of him shooting two guys who kidnapped a little girl. He shot them on the side of the highway, with cars flying by. That’s crazy.” He paused, then added, “I don’t want my career cut short because of him.”