Chapter 2

 

Drew Michener’s office was Spartan, befitting their no-nonsense supervisor. An oak desk, where his tablet, cell phone and state-of-the-art computer sat, padded chairs and bookshelves with Secret Service manuals, studies and reports completed the room.

“Max. Whitney.” Michener stared at them and Whitney wondered if there were any telltale signs of the schism in their relationship. She hoped not. She’d have to cling to work to get through Max’s decision, which had upended her life. “Everything okay?”

“Of course.” Whitney’s voice was calm. Monotone, really.

“We have a new case?” Max asked.

Michener picked up his tablet. “Yes. This morning, an IED exploded at a local Social Security branch.”

An incendiary explosive device. A bomb.

Whitney slid to the edge of her seat, momentarily forgetting her situation.

“We allowed the appropriate time for the police in Virginia to investigate. Then, we only knew something had gone off. It could have been a water-heater explosion. Or crossed wiring. But it’s not.”

“Hell.”

“Anyone hurt?” Whitney asked.

“Fourteen people came in early. One was close to the blast site and has been taken to the hospital.”

“Interesting. He must not have been out to hurt others.” This from Max.

“Maybe. Maybe not. We don’t know when the device was supposed to go off.”

“So we were called in to help?” Whitney asked.

“Yes.” Secret Service often assisted the local police or other agencies when a crime had been committed. NTAC, the National Threat Assessment Center, where Max and Whitney worked, had developed evidence-based procedures through behaviors-based research, training and operation guidance. They were the leading international resource on ways to detect threats and discover identifiers of targeted violence. Other agencies sought their help with legwork and research on a case.

“Actually, this is our concern for two reasons. They need our threat-assessment capabilities, but also, a senator from Virginia was due to arrive there at 8:00 a.m. today for a talk with employees. She’s on a listening tour for a committee she heads to increase efficiency in the Social Security department.”

Whitney asked, “Do they think the bomb was connected to her?”

“We can’t ignore any possibility.”

“Will we be protecting her?” Max wanted to know.

“No, she’s been assigned protection for the time being by other Secret Service agents until we make our determination if she might have been the target of the bombing.”

“We’ll out go to Virginia today?” This from Max again.

“Yeah. But you’ll work out of this office. You’ll need the resources.”

Max glanced at his watch. “It’s only about an hour’s drive.”

Whitney almost groaned aloud. Two hours a day in a car with Max? Should she ask that he be assigned a new partner? That would cause gossip, questions from the brass, but wouldn’t a mild dustup be better than constant contact with him?

“I’d like to talk to you about assigning someone else to the case, Drew.”

Max’s whole body stiffened.

“Another team?”

“No, another partner for Max.”

Surprise, a rare emotion, suffused his face. “Can I ask why?”

“I think the organization would benefit from switching things up. Mike Ross has always wanted to work with Max.”

Drew frowned. “You two have been together for five years. You’re one of the most successful pairs I have. I’ll consider your request, of course, but not until after this assignment. You’ll have to work together on this one.”

“Respectfully, why?”

“Because the president asked for you two to do the assessment.” His gaze narrowed on Whitney. “Since you were assigned his sister’s case, he thinks he can trust you, Whitney.”

“Then give me another partner.”

“Like hell.” Max practically emanated with anger. “I want to be in on this.”

“Manwaring did say both of you. So, I’ll reassign you if you want but not now. You’ll only be on this a few days. Maybe a week. Once we do our work, we’ll turn it over to the FBI or Homeland Security, depending on how big it is.”

A little muscle below Max’s ear pulsed, his telltale sign of unhappiness. “That will do.” He faced her. “Ready to head out?”

Whitney only nodded. The overwhelming sense of loss she’d felt Friday night descended on her like a cloak. Things would never be the same again between them.

o0o

Max white-knuckled the steering wheel to keep from talking to Whitney. He was afraid he’d badger her about asking for a new partner or try to convince her not to go through with a transfer. But he’d lost the right to say anything on Friday night. Besides, he loved her. He didn’t want to hurt her more, and being with him was obviously painful for her. Hell, it was for him. And so he was shocked when he felt her hand covering his. Immediately releasing the wheel, he turned up his palm and she laced their fingers. A familiar routine between them when times were tough. She said, “You’re so tense. We both need to settle down.”

“I’m upset. You are, too. I get it. Why wouldn’t you be? But I never expected I’d lose you altogether.”

“Expectations.” She shook her head. “They can be murder.”

“What should we do, Whitney?”

“Be as kind as we can to each other during this time of transition.”

“Okay, but answer one thing. Do you still care about me?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll always care about you.”

“But you won’t see me. Be with me.”

“No, at least, not for a while.”

“All right. I’ll try to accept that.” Max took in a deep breath. He had to be saner today. So he pointed to the iPad on her lap. “Do you have the background on the case?” A team had prepared information for them before they left.

“Yeah.” She opened the file on her tablet. “Oh, good. The setup of Social Security is first. I can’t remember anything about the place from when we took our review of all federal agencies.” Her voice was stronger when she dealt with work. “Every city has large regional offices, and smaller ones referred to as branches.”

“The one in Revere is a branch, right?” Revere, Virginia, was where the bomb exploded.

“Yep, under the supervision of a large office in Fairfax.”

“Who’s in charge?”

“Each branch has a manager who oversees the place. The real work is done by people under him. Or her. Then, there’s the operations supervisor, who basically runs the branch: scheduling, the bulk of HR duties, counseling.”

“The last could be important.”

“Most of the workers in a branch are claims representatives who handle individual cases. They do their own paperwork, make calls and alternate covering reception.”

“Ah, gone are the days of secretaries and receptionists who used to wear pencil-thin skirts and high heels.”

“Chauvinist.” She chuckled.

He laughed. It felt good.

Whitney continued. “There’s a security guard at each branch who’s also a federal employee.”

“If all of them are government workers, their records will be more easily accessible. Who are we meeting with?”

“The branch manager. And the larger office administrator and HR guy. There’s also a technical expert whose job it is to resolve complex claims and handle sensitive issues, so she’s there.”

“What about the staff?” Max asked.

“Everyone but management has been sent home.”

“Hopefully, they’ll have some clues as to why this happened.”

“Do you mean, who may have done it?”

“Yeah, and why.”

Their relationship felt more normal after discussing work, and the atmosphere in the car was less tense when they pulled up to a red brick building in the small town. Two firetrucks sat idling in the parking lot. Three police cars. One labeled Bomb Squad.

o0o

With a sense of relief, Whitney exited the car. She donned her coat in deference to the cold wind that blew right through them. She and Max walked companionably side by side to the entrance. She refused to think about the change in their relationship and fought hard to concentrate on the job ahead.

The guard, a big guy wearing a brown uniform and carrying a gun, approached them. “May I see some ID, agents?” He’d have been alerted to their arrival. They showed badges.

Once inside, the scent of burned wood assaulted them and played havoc with Whitney’s stomach, which hadn’t settled from the weekend. People’s voices emanated from a place in the back, out of sight.

Then a man appeared in the front area. Tall, fit and most likely in his mid-thirties, he crossed to them. “Agents, hello. I’m Jake Coleman, operations supervisor here at the Revere branch.”

“I’m Agent Blackwell and this is Agent Dwyer.”

“Agents?” His grin was…nice, revealing a little dimple in his left cheek. And aimed at Whitney. “We’re pretty informal here.”

She smiled at him. “I’m Whitney.”

Max didn’t offer the same courtesy. He started back to the explosion site and they followed. A group she assumed was the head honchos stood around a scorched section of a back wall. Cracks fanned out like tributaries and plaster had fallen but no hole went through the brick.

Jake said, “Agent Blackwell and Agent Whitney Dwyer are here.”

Introductions began: A female manager of the branch. The manager of the Fairfax office. The head HR guy. Whoever began would be the one with the most power.

“We came out here as soon as we heard,” Smith from HR headquarters said. “But you’ll be working mostly with Marla Braid, who manages the branch, and Jake, who you’ve already met. We’ll let them take the lead on briefing you.”

Coleman straightened. “Before we start, do you know how the injured staff worker, Brad Myers, is? We haven’t been able to get any information on him.”

Whitney pulled out her iPad and checked for emails. “He’s in good condition.” She scanned the note. “We also have some details that the bomb squad already sent our offices in D.C. This was a homemade device, elements of which are easily available online. The damage done will shut down the office for a few days.”

“That’s more than we know,” Marla Braid, the branch manager said. She was about Whitney’s height, five foot eight, medium build, in a navy business suit. “We can’t imagine why this happened. Do you think it could be vandalism?”

Max stepped forward. “We keep all options open. But I have to say that in the bombing of a federal building, vandalism would be low on our list.” Then, there was the visit by the senator, though he didn’t bring that up.

“Why would someone do this?” the Fairfax manager asked.

“Could be a lot of reasons.” Again, Max took the lead. “A disgruntled employee striking out. A person whose claim wasn’t resolved in his favor. Or it could be terrorism, as this is a federal building.”

Gasps. “Terrorism?” Marla eked out. “On our little branch?”

“We don’t know this is the only incident or will be the only one,” Max clarified. “We’ve already alerted the Director of Social Security who’s sending a memo this afternoon to every branch and larger office in the state.”

Whitney added, “It’ll also go nationwide.”

“Wow. I had no idea.” Marla’s brown eyes were troubled. “So how do we start?”

“While we’re waiting for forensic evidence from the bomb itself, we should talk about the staff.”

Smith said, “Jake will do that with you. I haven’t been called on to facilitate any big HR issues over here. The staff is small, twenty-five people. Jake’s more likely to have knowledge of their backgrounds.”

“Then I guess we should sit down with Mr. Coleman and start reviewing the personnel files.” Max’s tone was markedly unfriendly.

“Do you have a warrant to check into their files?” Braid asked.

Whitney took a hard copy out of her notebook. “We don’t need one. These are the twelve exemptions from the federal Privacy Act. In other words, these circumstances give the government the right to your files without permission from a judge.”

Max glanced at her. “Did you highlight the two that are most relevant?”

“Of course.”

Marla scanned the copy. “The first says a federal agency has the right to see the files of any other agency upon written request of the officer in charge.” She looked at the Larry Smith. “Did you get the request?”

“Yes. And I sent my okay.”

Whitney handed her another paper. “This is the written request for your files. It’s already been mailed to your phone.”

Marla scanned the paper. “Then everything’s in order.”

Smith added, “You take it from here, Jake.”

“We can go to my office,” Jake told them.

“I want to sit in,” Marla added.

“No,” Max said. “For now, we’ll only deal with the operations guy who also oversees the personnel. We need to keep this as private as possible.” He eyed Jake. “And any information distribution to anybody will come from NTAC. It’s a felony to interfere. Obstructing justice.”

“I know that, Agent Blackwell.” Jake started down a hallway. From the corner of her eye, Whitney saw the others begin to leave and Max and Marla speaking. Whitney caught up to Jake. “This must be a lot for you to deal with.”

“It’s inconceivable that we could be talking about one of our staff being involved. But I assure you, Whitney, you’ll have my full cooperation.” He glared at Max. “And I’m sworn to silence, literally, so you don’t have to worry.” He squeezed her arm and kept walking. “Meeting you might turn out to be the bright spot in this whole thing.”

o0o

It didn’t take Max long to realize Jake Coleman was interested in Whitney. They walked ahead of him and Coleman hovered a little too close to her for comfort. He addressed her as Whitney, with an inflection of intimacy. Men were attracted to her like the proverbial flies to honey, and in the past, Max had been amused at their covert and overt attempts at getting her attention. One time, a prisoner in jail had threatened to hang himself if she didn’t come visit him. Another time, an FBI guy fell all over himself whenever she was around. There were other incidents. Now that Max had split with her, the flirting didn’t seem so entertaining anymore.

“Nice office,” she said when they entered Coleman’s domain. Walls were painted a sage green, oak trim matched the desk and the plush chair perched behind it. Pictures lined the bookshelf: A beautiful Irish Setter, an older couple, a small boy.

“Yeah, I splurged and bought the furniture myself, did the interior on weekends.”

When they took seats with Whitney and Max across from him, she asked, “Plan on staying at this branch, Jake?”

“For a while, long enough to make my office pleasant. But it isn’t a secret that I’m angling for a bigger position, maybe in state-level HR. I like working with people.”

“Let’s go over the list of this office’s employees.”

Though Max had spoken, Coleman’s gaze stayed on Whitney. “How will we do that, exactly?”

“We’ll give you the criteria that the Secret Service has developed as clues to what we’ve identified as concerning behaviors.” Once again Whitney called up notes on her iPad. “Give me your email address and I’ll send them to you.”

When that was done, Coleman perused the indicators. “Males over thirty.” His gaze searched Whitney’s. “You’ll only consider men? That sounds like gender profiling.”

“It is. All of this is profiling of some type. But in a sample as small as this place, no, we won’t consider only men.”

“Criminal charges, a history of violence, stalking or harassment? Do you expect to find these in our personnel files? Because I can’t recall anyone with these issues.”

“Not exactly.” She touched the iPad. “Once we have names and what background is in their files here, we’ll run them through the government’s large database, check court records and social media.”

His grin was too broad and again aimed at Whitney. “I doubt anybody’s going to admit to a crime on Facebook.”

“You’d be surprised,” Max said smugly. “I’ll bet you that at least one of your employees has had a DWI. And clues to it are on Facebook.”

Coleman had removed his suit coat before he sat. He wore a monogrammed shirt, which he rolled up at the sleeves. “I’m ready to get to work. What do I do first?”

“Check the concerning behaviors.” Max snapped his comment out like an order. “See if you recognize anything, remember anything from your employees.” He arched a brow. “Even for yourself, Mr. Coleman.”

Again, the man’s gaze went to Whitney. “Hmm, I like being a man of mystery. But for you, I might make an exception.”

o0o

Jake’s baby-blue eyes widened when he scanned the list. Disturbing statements. Unexplained behavior. Conflict in relationships. Fixations. Paranoia. Depression. Delusion. Romance problems. Work-related conflict. Civil court appearances. Personal health.

He raised his gaze to them. “I’ll confess right now to having some of these. I tore my Achilles tendon last year and was a bear to work with. My girlfriend and I broke up in the summer.” A small smile. “And I have a fixation on Jacey Carter, the popular actress.” He focused his gaze on Whitney. “You remind me of her.”

Whitney touched her hair. “I doubt that. But a few behaviors are endemic to everybody. We check for patterns.”

“Have you recently broken up with a guy, Whitney?”

Max sat forward in his seat and frowned. “An agent’s personal life is none of your business.”

Whitney shot him a withering look. “Most agents do have some of these traits, Max. At one point, you were in civil court for a divorce. Before I knew you, but it’s in your file.”

“As the senior agent on the case, let me warn you about sharing personal information, Agent Dwyer.”

She felt like a chastised teenager who was trying to tick off her superior.

“In any case, Jake, we’ll need to discuss all the staff, and you can eyeball them for fitting the profile. I’ll also send the list to the D.C. office and have the analysts start with a database search.”

“Let’s do it then.”

“First on the list is Marla Braid.” The manager of the branch. “Anything on her?”

“A painful divorce recently. She and I have talked casually about family.” He ran a hand through his dark hair. “Hell, I feel like a snitch reporting on my coworkers.”

Whitney sat forward. “Jake, when the Secret Service interviewed forty-one students who perpetrated attacks on their schools and are now in prison, all but one said he’d talked about doing harm with others. No one snitched. No one reported them. You have to put aside any distastefulness and help the government investigate.”

Three hours later, when they left the office, even Whitney had that distaste in her mouth. But they obtained much-needed important information.

o0o

Max had never expected the jealousy. Because he’d never before been jealous when somebody put the moves on her. So why now?

Because she’s a free agent. Because she can sleep with anybody she wants. Just like you can, like you plan to do tonight.

“Pull over.”

He was shocked to hear Whitney’s voice, so mired was he in his thoughts. “What?”

“I said pull over. We need to talk.”

He checked the time. “I want to get home.”

“Hot date tonight, now that you’ve cleared the path?”

Yanking the car to the side of the road, he slammed on the brakes and thrust the engine into park. The snow had started to fall, and little crystals formed on the windshield. He watched that for a minute, trying to gather his thoughts, then turned to her. “I had all weekend to do that, as the path was cleared Friday.”

Her blue eyes rounded like saucers, but they were muddy with pain. “Did you sleep with her this soon?”

“No, I couldn’t even talk to her.” His words were sharp and he hated speaking to Whitney that way. He held out his hand. This time, she took it and he linked their fingers. The contact felt good, solid, safe.

Her voice was calmer. Concerned. “What was going on with Jake Coleman? You two were having a pissing match.”

He looked past her, wondering what to say. The truth would infuriate her and he didn’t understand his own feelings anyway.

“Tell me the truth.” She knew him so well. “We promised we always would. I hope that at least hasn’t changed.”

“I was freaking jealous!”

Her mouth dropped and she drew her hand away.

But she didn’t get mad.

Max’s jaw was stiff, his mouth forming a rigid line. “I know I have no right. But he had eyes for you.”

“An old-fashioned expression.”

“Nonetheless, true.”

A sigh escaped her. “I know.”

“You do? Usually you’re oblivious to that kind of thing. I’ve pointed it out to you countless times and you never noticed.”

She didn’t respond.

“Why now?” he asked, suspicion in his voice.

“I don’t know. Maybe my guy radar went up when you told me about another woman in your life.”

His heart clenched in his chest.

“Look at me, Max.”

He did.

“You better get used to the idea of me and other guys. Together.”

“I will.” Just not today when they were both so raw.

“And I’ll get used to picturing you in bed with Angela.”

“Don’t.”

“I already did. All weekend. It doesn’t feel good, but I have to face reality.”

“God, I’ve made a mess of things. Maybe—”

She put her fingers on his mouth. “Don’t say you made a mistake breaking it off with me. The bold truth is I won’t be able to give you kids. I could marry you. Make a life with you. But not that.”

“You’d marry me, after all this?”

“Well, not now. I might have before I knew you wanted kids so badly, but not after that. I will do my part to make this split better, though. I won’t ever try to make you jealous, but I can’t promise I won’t date.”

“Cal Adams”—the FBI agent that’s always sniffed around her— “will make a move, I’ll bet. He’ll sense something’s different. Who knows, maybe Coleman sensed it, too.”

“We’ll both be stronger in a few days. In a week or two.”

“You think?”

“What choice do we have?”

“None, given the parameters.”

Leaning over, she kissed his cheek. “Come on, let’s head back to D.C. I’m tired and I want a hot bath.”

An image invaded the car like an interloper.

I’m running you a bath.

You know that makes me…sensitive.

That I do, darlin’. Because afterward, I’m going to love the daylights out of you.

You’re on, buddy.

Neither mentioned the routine that they so often had participated in. Still, it was there between them like another passenger in the front seat for the entire ride back home.