Murphy hustled into the living room, where Jackson still grilled Ms. Mitchell. She pulled up the remote control.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Jackson growled as she shot daggers at Murphy.
“Sorry, ma’am. Something’s happening.”
She waited for RNN to appear on the screen. Stephen McNeil stood on the corner of a street. A coffee shop was in the background, surrounded by police cars and blue and red flashing lights.
“The country mourns the death of musician Ethan Bond at this hour.”
A sharp gasp escaped Murphy’s mouth. She heard a garbled moan escape Mitchell’s lips as well.
“From what we can tell, Ethan Bond has been assassinated.” McNeil spun a tale of how he was shot from a high-powered rifle. The camera swiveled to show a taller building on the opposite side of the street from where the coffee shop was located. “Although it hasn’t been confirmed, we believe the assassin shot Bond from somewhere in this building. We’ll have more on this developing story right after the break.” The RNN logo flooded the screen, which was followed by an advertisement for some kind of erection pill. Murphy absently hit mute.
Murphy stood in stunned silence for a second. She heard the muffled cries coming from Mitchell’s direction as she heard Jackson let out a few curse words. Murphy’s phone vibrated in her hand. She hadn’t even realized she’d hung up on Harper. She looked down to see who the incoming call was from.
“Agent Little, what the hell is happening here?” Murphy said. Jackson shot her a questioning look, so she whispered, “It’s the cybercrime agent,” before telling Little, “I’m putting you on speaker.” Murphy hit the speaker button on the phone.
“Sorry, Agent Murphy, I’m just getting information. Somehow this happened, and it didn’t get filtered into the computer system properly, which is why we just heard about it. From what I can tell, Ms. Mitchell’s house exploding and someone taking a hit out on Mr. Bond happened within minutes of each other.”
“So, you’re telling us that there is no way these are coincidences?” Jackson said.
“Who’s that?” Little asked.
“Supervisory Special Agent in Charge Jackson. She came by to talk to Ms. Mitchell,” Murphy said. “I should also mention Ms. Mitchell is in the room with us now.”
There was an interruption on the other end of the line. “Sorry… Some additional information is coming in now from Houston. Give me a minute.”
Murphy hit the mute button. “What the fuck is going on here? What is so important about this data burst?”
“That’s an excellent question,” Jackson said. “Whoever these people are, they’re equipped and trained, which is pretty fucking scary.”
“I’ll say.” Murphy turned to Mitchell. “I can’t believe you had to hear like this.” Murphy watched as the young woman sat on the couch, tears streaming down her face. She looked to be in complete and utter shock. Murphy spotted a box of Kleenex on the other side of the room, so she walked over and grabbed the box and handed it to Stephanie. “I am so sorry for your loss,” Murphy said.
Mitchell looked up from where she was sitting. “Tell me you’ll nail these fucking bastards.”
Murphy wanted to reassure her, but she knew better than to over-promise things to victims. “We’ll do everything in our power to make sure these people are brought to justice.” Although the words weren’t a commitment, they seemed to mollify Mitchell.
“Agents Jackson and Murphy,” Little said, coming back on the phone, “I’m going to have to call you back. Things are getting more complicated on the ground with every passing second. The Houston Field Office has dispatched Agent Raymond Anderson to the scene. I’m liaising with him from Washington. I’ll call you back as soon as I have more information.”
There was a click on the other end of the line as they were disconnected.
“What now?” Mitchell asked in a small, quiet voice.
“Sadly,” Murphy started, “we wait.” An exasperated groan escaped Mitchell’s mouth, which Murphy agreed with all too well. “Trust me… We hate the waiting game as much as anyone. As agents, we’d much rather be doing than sitting.”
There was a sudden knock on the door of the safe house. Murphy shot Jackson a quick glance.
“You expecting anyone?” Jackson asked.
“No. You?”
“Nope.” Jackson turned to Mitchell. “Please quietly go into the back bedroom.” A look of fear flashed over Mitchell’s face. “It’s a precaution.”
Mitchell stood and walked to the back of the safe house. Both Murphy and Jackson unholstered their weapons as they approached the front door.
“Murphy,” a voice yelled, “it’s just me. I come bearing pizza.”
Recognizing Harper’s voice, both Murphy and Jackson holstered their weapons. Jackson went to the back of the house to tell Mitchell it was okay as Murphy opened the front door.
