"You don't want to hear this."
"I really do. Tell me." She was more than a little curious to know more about her new team.
"I won the US Nationals when I was seventeen and got to play at the US Open. I made it through the qualifying and into the second round before I lost. I was on my way. I had a full ride to Stanford University. But in my first year at school, I went on a ski trip, and I fell down the mountain and broke my leg in two places. I also injured my wrist and a couple of ribs. It was a nasty accident."
"That sounds awful."
"I had to have multiple surgeries, and my tennis career was put on a long hold. When I tried to come back two years later, I wasn't the same, not physically or mentally. Having that time away, to not think about being my parents' hope for a better life, I started to have fun. I made new friends. I got a boyfriend. I realized how narrow my life had been. And I didn't want that life anymore."
"Were your parents crushed?"
"They were sad. But our relationship actually improved when I wasn't just thinking of my dad as my coach, when he wasn't telling me how to hit a backhand or what to do against a wide serve. It was like we started to just be a normal family, and eventually, after a brutal string of lessons, my father took my racquets away one day and said he was going to keep them until I said I wanted them back. And if I never said that, it would be okay."
"And you never said that?"
She shook her head. "I didn't. It wasn't what I wanted anymore. I wanted to be an FBI agent, and that's what I did." She laughed. "I don't know why I told you all that."
"I'm glad you did. I enjoy having tough competitors on my team, people who like to win, because I definitely want to win."
"You'll have to tell me your story sometime, Kara."
"I will, but now I'd better get back to work."
As she reentered the bullpen, she was surprised to see Jason and Tyler standing by her desk, deep in conversation.
"What's going on?" she asked.
"The police have a witness who claims he saw someone go into Jonas Cray's apartment," Jason replied. "He's a food delivery guy who dropped off an order to the apartment down the hall from Cray's."
"Where is he now?"
"Currently doing food deliveries, but he said he will meet you between drops. I've asked Kate to send you his number," Jason said, referring to his admin. "His name is Omar Radishka, and he's working the Hell's Kitchen neighborhood today. He says he delivers food to that building all the time."
"That's great." She looked at Tyler. "Are you coming?"
"Not if you don't need me. I've found a link on Sergei Novik to Dominic Ashford that I'd like to explore."
"What's the link?"
"In addition to the Crimson Club, Sergei owns an international construction and engineering firm. That firm has gone up against Dominic Ashford twice in the past year, including a project in Tajikistan that Dominic won. That links Novik to Dominic Ashford, Samantha Barkley, and Jonas Cray."
"It certainly does," she said with excitement. "Keep going. I'll check in with you later."
She grabbed her bag and headed down to the garage to get her car, feeling more optimistic than she had been. They had a possible witness to Cray's killer and a link between Dominic and Novik, a person who would certainly have the money and power to hire someone to make a bomb and blow up a café with the girlfriend of one of his competitors in it.
Thirty minutes later, she'd made her way to a parking lot in Hell's Kitchen where the delivery driver was waiting in his car for his next pickup. She parked a few spots down and then texted him.
He got out of his car, a young twenty-something Indian male wearing a sweatshirt with an NYU logo and baggy jeans. His hair was long, and a somewhat scraggly beard covered his cheeks.
She walked over to him, giving him a nod. "Omar Radishka?"
"Yes."
"I'm Agent Reid. Can you tell me what you saw last night in the building on the corner of Eighth and Monroe?"
"I had just delivered food next door, and I saw a guy go into 3C. He was tall, like professional basketball player tall. He had black hair and was dressed all in black. He looked creepy."
"Did he knock on the door?"
