“Close the door.” Everything about Dale was ... off. His tie was askew. His hair was mussed. His eyes were ... Faith didn’t know what this look was. Shattered? A cold dread trickled through her limbs.
“I’m calling a meeting in two minutes. The word is out, and we have to get on top of this.”
“Sir? What happened?”
“This morning three separate attacks were carried out on agents from the US Secret Service Raleigh resident office.”
The Secret Service? Who? How? Luke?Please, Lord, not Luke.
“Two agents were killed. Two wounded, one more seriously than the other. Both of the wounded were taken to the Wake Med trauma unit. That’s all I have at the moment. The families of the agents are still being notified.”
Faith tried to force sound from her throat, but all that came out was a strangled breath. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Who?”
Dale didn’t hear her. “I’ll give you the rest of the details in the briefing. We need to go. You have point on the investigation.”
Wait. What?
“I want to know who did this. Those Secret Service punks chap my hide on a regular basis, but there’s not a one of them who it isn’t an honor to serve with. Not to mention that if someone’s got it out for the Secret Service, the FBI may be next.” Dale grabbed his coffee and a folder from his desk. “Let’s go.”
Dale strode to the door and pushed it open. Faith tried to make her feet move, but her limbs were heavy with dread.
He paused at the door. “Are you coming?”
“Dale. Who?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed twice before he spoke. “Jared Smith and . . .” Dale shook his head hard before continuing. “Michael Weaver.”
Not Luke. Faith hadn’t realized how disconcerting it was to feel both profound relief and gut-wrenching sorrow at the same time. Dale and Michael Weaver had served together in their early law enforcement days in Illinois. Most FBI agents despised their Secret Service counterparts, and the feeling was mutual. But Michael and Dale’s friendship was well-known, and it was because of them that the local Secret Service and FBI agents worked well together. Most of the time.
“I’m so sorry.”
Dale’s face hardened. “I want to know what happened. You find out who killed him.”
“Yes, sir.”
Faith followed Dale out the door and down the hall to the buzzing conference room. The chatter ceased when they entered. Faith glanced at the faces now focused on Dale. Word had spread, and the typical Monday morning banter had been replaced with stone-faced tension.
Dale took his place at the front of the room. “Sit.”
Should she sit? Did Dale expect her to stand up front with him? For an awkward moment, Faith hesitated in the door before sliding into a chair along the wall.
Two dead. Michael and Jared. Not Luke.
Two injured. Who?
She tried to concentrate on Dale’s words, but her gaze was drawn to her coworkers. The grief and shock settling on their expressions. The swiped tears everyone pretended not to notice. The clenched fists. The muttered expletives.
“Details are thin,” Dale said. “Michael Weaver was at the gym and dropped during his run. Initial indicators said it was a heart attack, but a paramedic on the scene noticed a puncture mark. Someone shot him with a dart. We still don’t know what was in it.”
Dale pulled a sheet of paper from the folder. “Jared Smith’s condo exploded this morning. There might be no reason to assume foul play, except for the fact that Michael’s ... dead”—Dale paused on the word and then pulled himself together to continue—“and two other agents, Zane Thacker and Luke Powell, were shot this morning and their cars were blown up. Both men are being treated for their injuries but are expected to make a full recovery.”
Faith’s ears buzzed. Luke Powell? Shot? Treated for injuries? What kind of injuries? “Expected to make a full recovery” didn’t necessarily mean that he wasn’t in bad shape at the moment.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, we have no idea why, but our brothers and sisters at the Secret Service came under attack this morning. The FBI has jurisdiction to investigate crimes committed against the Secret Service, and I’ve tasked Special Agent Malone with the lead. You will give her your full and devoted cooperation. I shouldn’t need to say this, but in case some of you aren’t playing with a full deck, let me remind you. If someone’s attacking our brethren at the Secret Service, we could very well be next in theirsights. Let’s find out who did this. Why they did this. And get justice for our friends. Dismissed.”
“Agent Malone.” Dale’s words were not a request but a command.
“Yes, sir.”
