After parking in the underground garage, she used a biometric scanner to enter the elevator and a fingerprint scan to take it to the third floor. When the doors opened on an unimpressive hallway, she walked down the corridor and used another biometric scanner to enter through the double doors leading into the office suite. Inside, there was a reception desk with a computer and a phone, but it was more for appearances than anything else.
She entered through another armed door, arriving in the open-concept office space with eight desks in the central bullpen and two glass-walled offices at one end, with a large conference room that looked over the city.
There were two agents at their desks: Natalie Ramon, an agent who'd recently transferred from an office in Latin America, and Zane McDougal, a former Wall Street exec with a background in financial crimes. Natalie was on the phone, and Zane was on his computer. She set her bag down on her desk and headed toward the conference room, where she could see Jason Colter standing in front of the monitors, while Alina Volkov and Tyler Brennan sat at the table.
Jason was in his mid-thirties, tall and fit with brown hair and light-blue eyes. He had literally been born into the FBI. His grandfather and father had both risen to the top levels of the bureau, but Jason had chosen a less politically ambitious path, refusing to rely on his last name to get him ahead. He'd come up through the trenches, and in the past year, he had closed some big cases, leading to his new post as director of Strike Team East.
Alina Volkov was a stunningly pretty blonde in her early thirties, whose parents had fled Russia when she was a baby, but her Russian roots and fluency in multiple languages had taken her from a position in the State Department to the FBI. Next to Alina was Tyler Brennan, who had started his intelligence career with the Army's Delta Force before joining the FBI two years ago, working in both LA and Chicago. He had rugged good looks and an abundance of confidence.
As she opened the door, all eyes turned to her.
"Kara," Jason said with a nod. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm doing all right." She had some cuts on her knees and hands and a deep scratch on her forehead from some glass, which she'd put a small bandage over, but otherwise she was okay.
"You look better than I expected," Alina said, offering her a warm smile. "Considering you were at ground zero."
"Why were you in the café?" Tyler asked. "Were you meeting someone?"
"No. I had to drop off a file at the courthouse for my last case. I was just grabbing a coffee before I headed here. I've been to that café many times. It's still difficult to believe what happened."
"Did you get any more information?" Jason asked.
"The fire chief told me the explosive device was small and placed in the garbage can next to the restroom. Special Agents Greer and Barash from 26 Fed were at the scene, as well as NYPD." She pulled out a seat at the table, noting the monitor behind Jason contained photos from the scene, including a photo of a woman, the same woman who'd given her a dark look when she'd gotten too close to her. "Who is that? I saw her in the café."
"Samantha Barkley, federal prosecutor," Jason replied. "She was pulled from the restroom in critical condition."
"Oh my God," she murmured, her gaze locked on Samantha's professional headshot. "She went into the restroom because a man spilled his coffee on her."
"Deliberately?" Tyler asked sharply.
"I didn't think so, but…maybe."
"Who was the man?" Jason asked.
"Middle-aged. He had on dirty jeans and a Knicks sweatshirt. His hair was a mix of brown and gray, not styled, long and messy. He apologized to her after spilling his coffee. She reacted with extreme annoyance. He shrugged and walked away."
"Did he stay in the café?" Tyler asked.
"No. He left. And Ms. Barkley went into the restroom. To be frank, she was irritated before the coffee spill. She was on the phone with someone, and when I got close to her, she gave me a glare and moved away. That's when I first noticed her, and their collision occurred right in front of me." She paused, wondering where this was all going. "Are we working this case?"
"Yes. Damon has asked us to take over," Jason replied, referring to Damon Wolfe, who ran the New York field office, commonly referred to as 26 Fed. "Apparently, Ms. Barkley has had conflicts with agents in Damon's office, and he wants a clean investigation. Since you were at the scene, Kara, you'll take the lead. You and Tyler can work with NYPD. Alina will connect with ATF. We need to find out if Ms. Barkley was the target, with the others as collateral damage, or if she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
She nodded, surprised but also excited to have the lead, especially for a case that had literally exploded right behind her. "Sounds good. There was another individual who stood out to me, besides the one who spilled the coffee. A man entered the café just after Ms. Barkley went into the restroom. He came inside and scanned the scene as if he were noting every detail. Then he walked out. He was probably inside for less than a minute. That said, after the bomb went off, he came back to the café to help rescue people. If he were connected to the bombing, he probably wouldn't have done that."
"Unless he wanted to throw suspicion away from himself," Tyler suggested.
"Possibly," she conceded. "I'm sorry I didn't get his name. I was helping someone when he went past me. We were both ordered out when the fire department arrived. I looked around for him later, but he had disappeared."
"Wes is pulling security footage from the scene," Jason said, referring to the head of their tech team, Wes Paulson. "Let's see if either of the men you described was caught on camera leaving the scene. If not, Kara, I'd like you to sit down with Elliott Briggs. He's not only an analyst; he's also an excellent sketch artist. Any kind of description would be helpful going forward. Let's get to work." As the others got up, he added, "Kara, hang back."
She waited as Tyler and Alina left, then gave Jason a questioning look.
"How are you really doing?" he asked, his sharp blue gaze running across her scratched-up face. "And I want an honest answer."
"Honestly, I'm fine."
"You were in an explosion, Kara. It's okay to not be fine."
