and upset.
During the most incredible night of her life, she had been systematically targeted. All her training as an agent couldn’t have prepared her for being victimized herself. It was an appalling, dehumanizing experience.
Sara and Charlotte, women she considered both colleagues and friends, were busy wiping fingerprint dust off her desk and cabinets. The silver canary cage that always stood at the window was eerily absent.
“Not quite done in here,” Sara said cheerfully, slapping at the black fingerprint dust smeared on her sleeve. Her long, fine blonde hair was up in a high ponytail, and she looked about sixteen years old, even in her prim business suit. “This awful stuff gets all over everything. Don’t look yet.”
Improbably, Carolyn felt like laughing.
Sara grinned back at her. “Well, I guess you can look, since I’m sure you’ve seen worse, but we did want it cleaned up before you got in. Charly has to get to your place to help Conn and Burgess, but I said I needed her to help me for at least an hour and Dash okayed it.”
“Which Conn loved, I can tell you,” Charlotte commented, tossing her filthy cloth into a garbage pail set up by the door. Her cell phone rang, playing “Take This Job and Shove It.”
“That would be Conn’s ring,” she said, her bright brown eyes twinkling, and they all shared a laugh. “I’d better get going before he blows a gasket.”
“That’s the fourth call from him in five minutes,” Sara said as Charlotte walked out talking on the phone and waving goodbye.
Carolyn shook her head. She enjoyed Charlotte’s irreverent humor, but Conn might not feel the same way.
“I’m so sorry about Pavarotti,” Sara said gently. “I know how you loved that little guy.” She wiped her hands a final time, then sealed up the garbage bag.
Carolyn sighed and blinked back tears.
“His singing was so sweet,” she agreed. “I’ll really miss having him here.”
“I don’t know why these stalkers have to kill little birds,” Sara said, reminding Carolyn that Sara’s own recently caught stalker had killed a small bird and left it in her bed to frighten her. “I said to Dash that there must be a stalker’s handbook, or something, because they all seem to do the same horrible things.”
Carolyn started. “What did Dash say?” she asked slowly.
Grange walked in the door. “Dash immediately asked if Martin Brent was still in custody because it’s a hell of a nasty coincidence,” Grange said.
Carolyn was almost afraid to ask, but she asked the question anyway. “Well, do we know?”
“He’s out on bail.” Grange looked furious. “The trial begins in a couple of weeks and he isn’t allowed to leave the state, but his lawyer says he went to visit his sister just outside of Houston. We’re checking on that now.”
“But Dash said we shouldn’t worry,” Sara said instantly. Her voice was firm, but her soft, pretty features were marred by a heavy frown. “If he doesn’t show up for the trial, half the state will be out looking for him. He won’t get away.”
“No, he won’t get away,” Carolyn said, automatically trying to soothe her friend. She knew how upsetting it was for Sara to think about her flight from Martin Brent or the upcoming trial. Sara put on a brave front, but it had to be bothering her.
Sara gathered up the last of the cleaning cloths, bagged them, and started to pull the big wheeled garbage pail behind her as she left the office.
“Meet for lunch at Morrissey’s?” She asked on her way out.
Carolyn smiled. “Yes, that sounds good,” she said. “Thanks.”
When Sara was gone, Carolyn turned to Grange. “If this is Martin Brent causing more trouble, Dash will strangle him. Nothing could stop him this time. You know that, don’t you?”
“If Dash wants a chance at Brent he can goddamn stand in line,” he growled almost absently as he checked a reminder on his organizer.
She leaned over to straighten some of the
During the most incredible night of her life, she had been systematically targeted. All her training as an agent couldn’t have prepared her for being victimized herself. It was an appalling, dehumanizing experience.
Sara and Charlotte, women she considered both colleagues and friends, were busy wiping fingerprint dust off her desk and cabinets. The silver canary cage that always stood at the window was eerily absent.
“Not quite done in here,” Sara said cheerfully, slapping at the black fingerprint dust smeared on her sleeve. Her long, fine blonde hair was up in a high ponytail, and she looked about sixteen years old, even in her prim business suit. “This awful stuff gets all over everything. Don’t look yet.”
Improbably, Carolyn felt like laughing.
Sara grinned back at her. “Well, I guess you can look, since I’m sure you’ve seen worse, but we did want it cleaned up before you got in. Charly has to get to your place to help Conn and Burgess, but I said I needed her to help me for at least an hour and Dash okayed it.”
“Which Conn loved, I can tell you,” Charlotte commented, tossing her filthy cloth into a garbage pail set up by the door. Her cell phone rang, playing “Take This Job and Shove It.”
“That would be Conn’s ring,” she said, her bright brown eyes twinkling, and they all shared a laugh. “I’d better get going before he blows a gasket.”
“That’s the fourth call from him in five minutes,” Sara said as Charlotte walked out talking on the phone and waving goodbye.
Carolyn shook her head. She enjoyed Charlotte’s irreverent humor, but Conn might not feel the same way.
“I’m so sorry about Pavarotti,” Sara said gently. “I know how you loved that little guy.” She wiped her hands a final time, then sealed up the garbage bag.
Carolyn sighed and blinked back tears.
“His singing was so sweet,” she agreed. “I’ll really miss having him here.”
“I don’t know why these stalkers have to kill little birds,” Sara said, reminding Carolyn that Sara’s own recently caught stalker had killed a small bird and left it in her bed to frighten her. “I said to Dash that there must be a stalker’s handbook, or something, because they all seem to do the same horrible things.”
Carolyn started. “What did Dash say?” she asked slowly.
Grange walked in the door. “Dash immediately asked if Martin Brent was still in custody because it’s a hell of a nasty coincidence,” Grange said.
Carolyn was almost afraid to ask, but she asked the question anyway. “Well, do we know?”
“He’s out on bail.” Grange looked furious. “The trial begins in a couple of weeks and he isn’t allowed to leave the state, but his lawyer says he went to visit his sister just outside of Houston. We’re checking on that now.”
“But Dash said we shouldn’t worry,” Sara said instantly. Her voice was firm, but her soft, pretty features were marred by a heavy frown. “If he doesn’t show up for the trial, half the state will be out looking for him. He won’t get away.”
“No, he won’t get away,” Carolyn said, automatically trying to soothe her friend. She knew how upsetting it was for Sara to think about her flight from Martin Brent or the upcoming trial. Sara put on a brave front, but it had to be bothering her.
Sara gathered up the last of the cleaning cloths, bagged them, and started to pull the big wheeled garbage pail behind her as she left the office.
“Meet for lunch at Morrissey’s?” She asked on her way out.
Carolyn smiled. “Yes, that sounds good,” she said. “Thanks.”
When Sara was gone, Carolyn turned to Grange. “If this is Martin Brent causing more trouble, Dash will strangle him. Nothing could stop him this time. You know that, don’t you?”
“If Dash wants a chance at Brent he can goddamn stand in line,” he growled almost absently as he checked a reminder on his organizer.
She leaned over to straighten some of the
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