BLEARY-EYED, JAMISON got up the next morning, washed her face, and walked down the hall to the kitchen to make coffee.
She stopped dead when she got to the kitchen.
“Have you been sitting there all night?”
Decker looked up from his chair.
She said, “Decker, it’s seven in the morning. Have you even been to bed?”
In answer he held up his phone. “I listened to the messages. All of them.”
She frowned and leaned against the wall, wrapping the folds of her robe around her because the apartment was chilly. “Okay,” she said slowly.
“I screwed up, Alex. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you were so worried. And I’m sorry I missed dinner.”
She came and sat down next to him. She rubbed her eyes and looked at him. “Knowing you, I probably shouldn’t have overreacted when you didn’t show up. I mean, it’s not like it’s the first time you’ve stood me up.” She played with the cord on her robe and added, “But with all that’s taken place recently, with the Amayas and everything, I just thought something terrible had happened to you.”
“If you ever call again I will answer it. And if I don’t then you probably will need to call 911.”
She gave him a grudging smile, squeezed his arm, and rose to go make coffee. “I called Melvin last night and told him you were okay.”
Decker flinched because it had never occurred to him to do this.
What the hell is wrong with me?
“Thanks for doing that.”
“Maybe we can grab dinner tonight?” she said cautiously.
“Yes, we can.”
“Don’t be too quick to agree. You might live to regret it.”
She brought two cups of coffee over and set one down in front of him before retaking her seat. “Now, talk to me about this theory you came up with.”
Decker went through it step by step.
Jamison looked impressed. “A whistleblower, huh? That would explain a lot of the questions we’ve got.”
“The problem will be finding out which whistleblowing case. There have been a lot of them over the years.”
“But it shouldn’t be that hard. We can circulate Berkshire’s picture all over. Someone will have to recognize her.”
“The thing is, Alex, her picture has been all over the place. After the murder it was on all the news cycles and still is in some places.”
She took a sip of coffee and looked perplexed. “That’s true. I wonder why no one has come forward, then?”
“She changed her name, obviously. She could have changed her appearance too.”
“You mean plastic surgery?”
“There are lots of ways to change your appearance other than going under the knife. She could have lost weight, changed her hairstyle and color, started wearing glasses, or used tinted contacts to change her eye color. It all adds up.”
“We could ask the ME if Berkshire had had surgery. The autopsy would have shown that.”
“I emailed her last night. She must be an early riser. She emailed me a half hour ago and said there were no signs of plastic surgery.”
“Speaking of early risers, don’t you think you should get some sleep?”
“I’m not tired.”
“Well, at some point you’re going to need to rest or else you’re going to wear out. You want some breakfast?”
“I’ll get it.”
“Okay, I’m going to grab a shower.”
As she walked off, Decker’s thoughts trended back to Berkshire. Specifically, to the old house in the woods. The flash drive, he knew, would have been a treasure trove of information. It might have detailed Berkshire’s past, answering so many questions. But someone had followed them there, shot out Decker’s tire, assaulted him, and taken it. So someone was watching them. Or else they had been watching the old house.
He heard a buzzing sound and looked down. It was Jamison’s phone. He didn’t recognize the number and the caller ID came up as unknown, so it wasn’t on Jamison’s contact list.
He heard the shower running. He could have just let it go to voicemail, but decided to answer it.
“Hello?”
“Hello, this is Nancy Billings. I was calling for Alex Jamison or Amos Decker with the FBI?”
“I’m Amos Decker.”
“Oh, hi. I’m a teacher at the school where Anne Berkshire worked as a substitute. I understand you might have some questions for me. I’m sorry to be calling so early, but I have to leave for work soon.”
“No, that’s no problem. Could we meet after school?”
“Yes. I have to go home and let out the dog, but there’s a Starbucks near where I live.” She gave him the address and they set a time.
He called Bogart and filled him in on what had happened with Agent Brown. Next he told him about Billings and the meeting later that day.
Bogart said, “I’ll start following up on the military whistleblower angle. I know that’s Brown’s bailiwick, but I have some contacts there too. And the FBI investigated and the DOJ prosecuted a great many whistleblower cases over the years.”
Decker clicked off and put his phone in his pocket. He went to the bathroom, splashed water on his face, and brushed his teeth. He came out at the same time Jamison did. She was wrapping a scarf around her neck.
“Did you eat?” she said.
“No. Slipped my mind.”
“Wow, the old memory is just crapping out on you,” she said dryly. “That’s okay. We can get something on the way in to Hoover.”
“Nancy Billings called. She worked with Berkshire at the school. I’ve arranged for us to meet her after she finishes at school today.”
“Hopefully, she can tell us something helpful.”
When they opened the exterior door to their building, Harper Brown was standing there. She wore jeans, boots, a black turtleneck, and a brown leather jacket. She held up a bag.
“Bagels. And I’ve got coffee in the car.” She glanced at Jamison. “But not enough for you.”
Jamison said, “We were about to head out to run down a lead.”
Brown looked at Decker. “DIA HQ. Whistleblower files. You in or out? There won’t be a second offer.”
“Can’t Alex come with us?”
Brown shook her head. “I had a hard enough time getting permission for you to come out. We can’t have a tagalong.”
Jamison bristled at this comment but said, “Okay, Amos, I’ll let Bogart know about this when I get in to the office.”
“I’ll fill you all in on everything when I’m done at DIA.”
“Well, to the extent they’re cleared to hear it,” said Brown, staring at Jamison.
Staring directly at Brown, Jamison said, “And I’m sure I’ll do the same, so long as you’re cleared for it.”
They drove off, leaving Jamison standing in the parking lot. She shook her head, apparently trying to clear her thoughts.
“Maybe I should just go back to being a journalist,” she said to herself.