“If this goes as high as we’re afraid it does, fuck all of us.”
“As soon as you have the FISA warrant, my partner and I will discreetly serve it without letting Special Agent in Charge Geraldine Jackson know.”
“When you have secured Ms. Mitchell, we’ll simultaneously read in the director on our end, but not before.”
Murphy and Little spent the next few minutes discussing logistics before Murphy ended the call. She logged out of the computer and exited the SCIF to find Agent Jackson standing outside. A quick look of shock crossed Jackson’s face but was quickly masked.
“Agent Murphy,” Jackson said, more as a question than a statement. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“I was asked to read someone in on the Dunning and Hawthorne murders from the DOJ. The Attorney General doesn’t like the idea of two celebrities being murdered. It makes law enforcement look weak,” Murphy lied.
Jackson’s face softened. “I wish those bureaucrats at the DOJ would stay out of our investigations until we are finished.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Anything I need to be aware of?” Jackson questioned.
“Not at the moment. Still waiting on some of the forensic evidence to come in from NOPD. We should have it today or tomorrow, according to their lab.”
“I expect to see a report later this morning.”
“I was about to work on it when I got this email,” Murphy acknowledged. “I’m heading back to my office to finish it. You should have it in your inbox within the hour.”
* * * *
Blayne
Blayne spent the rest of the afternoon followed by the paparazzi. Some, he guessed, thought he’d lead them to Ethan, but most were still following him because they thought he was Ethan. He caught them out of the corner of his eye a few times, even after he went to campus. He texted back and forth with Ethan several times, still clumsy using Ethan’s phone. Blayne’d had an iPhone for so long. The switch to the Galaxy was more awkward than he would have imagined.
He walked into class later that afternoon and noticed a young woman do a double-take. Blayne was still wearing the hat and Oakley’s as he unpacked his attaché case, pulled out his laptop and plugged it into the computer terminal in the room’s front.
“Mr. Dickenson, what’s with the fresh look?” the young woman asked.
“Got up a bit later than usual,” he responded, taking off the hat and sunglasses.
“Were you at Dream Bean yesterday?” the woman asked.
“Yep, I was there with my best friend. Why?”
“Have you seen the picture?” she asked.
“What picture?” Blayne lied.
She got out of her desk and brought up the image of Ethan and Kira. “Where did you get this? That’s me and my best friend, Kira.”
“You don’t know, do you?” the young woman asked.
“I do not know what you’re talking about,” Blayne lied.Thank God for those drama classes in high school.
“Someone posted the picture of you saying you were Ethan Bond.”
“Who?”
“Ethan Bond? Member of the group ZERO?”
Blayne wrinkled his brow and tried to deliver his best look of confusion.
“Oh, my God, this is hysterical,” the woman said. “Can you please put the hat and shades back on for just a minute?”
