“Hey, Alex.”
She rose from her seat on the desk. “I understand you and my partner are going off for some interrogations. Did you pack the rubber hoses?”
“Yep. And I got the spotlight in the car already.”
“Bamboo needles for the fingernails?”
“Eh, doesn’t sound like we need to go that far with these ones.” He grinned at Alex, then put an arm around her shoulder. “It looks like you’re feelin’ better.”
“Yeah, I am. Does everyone know that Cliff sent me home last night?”
“Nope. I didn’t even know ‘til you just told me.”
Alex covered her face with her hand. “Great.”
Ben jerked his head at Dave, motioning him to leave the cubicle. Once he had, Ben put his hands on Alex’s shoulders and waited for her to look up at him.
“Look, it don’t matter. I think everyone knew he’d probably give you the evenin’. You’ve been runnin’ on pure cussedness since you got back from Philly, and the engine sputtered a little. So, you know what you do? You find a way to refill the gas tank, and you keep drivin’. All of us need a refill from time to time, and I ain’t goin’ to begrudge you yours. Got me?”
“Thanks, Ben.”
“Alex, Dave told us that he chased after the guy while you tried to help the victim. He said you rode in the ambulance, and the guy was DOA. It don’t take much to figure out that, of all of us workin’ on this fuckin’ case, you’re the only one to have seen a victim get hit, up close and personal like. That’s why it hit you like it did.”
Alex leaned forward, and gave him a hug. “Thanks, Ben.”
He hugged her back, then stood and straightened his tie. He looked around to make sure no one had seen what happened.
“You tell anyone I hugged you, I’ll deny it.”
“Not a word.”
Ben nodded at her, and then walked towards the door.
“Ben?” He looked back at her. “I wouldn’t let Dave drive.”
Ben snorted. “Alex, I may be slow, but I ain’t stupid.”
Alex laughed. She stood there for a moment after Ben left, and just let her thoughts drift over their conversation. It didn’t surprise her that Ben had known what she was feeling. He was nearing twenty years as an agent, and had probably been through the same thing. The only thing that did surprise her was how he accepted her reaction. She thought that her lack of control in the meeting, and her inability to function without emotion, would lower her stature in the eyes of her fellow agents. Obviously, that hadn’t happened with Ben. She’d have to just wait and see how everyone else took it.
With that she headed for her office.
*******************************************************
“Hi, you’ve reached the home of Sarah Mahoney and Maggie Copeland. Neither of us are available right now, but if you leave a message, we’ll get back to you as soon as we can. Thanks.” Beep.
“Sarah. It’s Alex. I’m okay. Yeah, it’s been a little tough the last few days, but I’m fine.” Alex paused. “I’m gonna have to do something about you and David ganging up on me. It’s not fair, you know. I have to listen to him all day long, about how I’m not taking care of myself, and I should get some more rest. Then I get home and find your messages saying the same thing. Sometimes I feel like I’m back home with my parents. Yeesh!” She paused a moment longer, and then softened her voice.
“But, I gotta say, it’s nice to know somebody cares. I love you, too. Give Maggie a hug for me, and tell her I love her. I’ll see the two of you soon, I promise. Love you. Bye.”
Alex hung up, breathing a sigh of relief. She had called Sarah, and let her know she was fine. However, she had called at a time when she knew Sarah and Maggie would both be out of the house. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to her friends, she did. But they’d ask again how she was doing, and she wasn’t prepared to tell them about her crying spell last night.
She wasn’t ready to tell anyone about that, yet.
Instead, she stared at the stacks of paper in front of her. They represented all of the paperwork that needed to be done by agents involved in the investigation. Cliff had grimly guided her into the control center and pointed her to them.
“I thought you wanted me to do research, Cliff.”
“We have a research department, Alex. You’re not part of it anymore. Now, you’re a full-fledged agent, and you get to do the same job everyone else has to do. It’s called ‘paperwork.’.”
“Yeah, but —”
“No buts. Just do it.” He turned away, then turned back and grinned at her. “Besides, I can read your writing. Ever tried to decipher Mark’s, or Steve’s, or Louis’?”
“No, but —”
“Nope. No buts.”
And he’d left her alone in the forest of paper.
Part of what she was trying to do now, was organize the case notes from all the members of the team. Since all the events of the previous weekend, no one had tried to assemble the latest case notes, and that had to be done before they could be given to one of the secretaries for typing into the computer. The had to be in chronological order, and readable.
After a while she realized two things: one, Cliff was right, the other members of the task force had some pretty bad handwriting. Two, there were pieces of the puzzle hidden inside the notes. When originally written, they’d meant little or nothing. But now, in the light of what they’d recently learned, these scraps of information had taken on new importance.
Like the question, asked in writing by Tom Jorgen, if a Dremov rifle could possibly be the weapon that killed Steven Fletcher. Tom had asked, because he’d read that there were still hundreds of Dremovs in the states, brought in years ago as souvenirs by military men returning from Europe. He hadn’t followed up on it, however, because it was a long shot. Besides, there was no rifle to test.
There was also a note about a phone call from the witness who saw the blue sedan in the parking lot before Doug Wilson’s car exploded. The witness said she had remembered something about the car. While it wasn’t possible to see through the tinted windows, she had gotten a glimpse into the back seat of the car when the white male suspect opened the door and entered the vehicle. Louis Baker, who had spoken to the woman, quoted her as saying, “I know it sounds strange, but I could swear there was a baby seat in the back of the car.” Baker had noted beside the quote that she might have seen a package, or maybe a suitcase of some kind.
Finally, Alex came across the list of employees at the store the Baltimore rifle had been stolen from. Weeks ago, the name Ricky Wilford meant nothing to anyone.
Today, it meant a great deal.
She picked up the phone and dialed.
“David Wu.”
“It’s Alex. Where are you?”
“Baltimore. Near the Arena. Why?”
“Do you know where Riley’s Sporting Goods is?”
“Yes. It’s a long way from here, though.”
“Do any of the places you’re going take you near Riley’s?”
Alex heard the rustling of paper.
“Yeah, one of the businesses is close to there.”
“Well, make sure you stop in at Riley’s.”
“Why?”
“Because you might want to talk to one of their employees.”
There was mumbling on the other end of the line.
“Alex, Ben said he and Mark already interviewed the employees.”
“Did he? Ask him if he remembers one named Ricky.”
Again, muffled voices. “Yeah, he remembers.”
“Ask him if he remembers Ricky’s last name.”
She heard a yelp from Dave, and then Ben’s voice came on the line.
“Alex? You’re shittin’ me.”
“Nope. Checked it on the computer. Darryl was his older brother. Maybe you should let Ricky know we think his brother fried to a crisp in Philadelphia.”
“We’ll do it. I just hope the little prick is there today.”