“My understanding is that Special Agent Powell has some pretty bad contusions from stuff falling after the explosion,” Sutton said. “When the first car exploded, he was dragging Special Agent Thacker away. He fell on top of him, and his body took most of the beating from the falling car parts. It’s a wonder they didn’t both die this morning.” Sutton shook her head. “I mean, who survives this?”
“My grandma would say they must be living right,” Faith said without any humor. “But I guess the real answer is that it wasn’t their time. There must be more for them to do.”
Where had that come from? She didn’t believe God cared enough to intervene. Not anymore.
Agent Sutton’s response was a noncommittal grunt.
Faith turned to the younger agent. “I need your full report ASAP, but you should know that I’m impressed with what you’ve done here. Good work.”
Agent Sutton tried, and failed spectacularly, to stop the grin that made her look like a twelve-year-old who’d borrowed her aunt’s FBI windbreaker. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll have the report to you tonight.”
Faith nodded at the other agents processing the scene. She’d seen what she needed to see here.
Now it was time to see Luke.
LUKE WAS GOING TOLOSEhis ever-loving mind the next time someone knocked on the door. After the visit from the chaplain, he’d told the police officer guarding his door to keep people away. He did not want company.
Everything hurt. His head. His leg. His hands. His arms. His ego.
His heart.
Zane remained zonked in the recovery room, and Luke envied his friend’s blissful ignorance. Consciousness would only bring him misery. Michael and Jared. Gone.
How was that even possible? He’d seen them yesterday at the party.
He wanted to throw something. Or yell. Or both. Or worse.
More widows. More fatherless kids. Sure, they all knew the risks associated with their line of work. No one joined the SecretService without the certain knowledge that they would, more than once, put their life on the line for someone else.
But no one expected to die in their own house. Or at the gym running laps.
Why, Lord? I can’t make sense out of any of this. How many more people do I have to lose?
A tap at the door had him reaching for something, anything, to throw. “Go away!” The words left his mouth even as the gentle eyes of none other than Faith Malone met his.
She didn’t flinch. Her mouth twisted into a compassionate grimace. How did she make herself look sorry and sad for him at the same time? What was she doing here?
“Luke.” She didn’t enter the room. Didn’t push the door open another inch. “I am so sorry. I don’t know if they told you—”
“I already know about Michael and Jared.” The words burned as he said them.
“Yes, and I am sorry for your loss. But did they tell you I’m the agent in charge of the investigation?”
What? Faith? No way. He and Faith had worked together often over the past three years, on everything from a charity golf tournament to a dragon boat race for a cancer fundraiser. And for the past year they had both served on the Joint Terrorism Task Force. She was a good agent, as far as FBI agents went. She was a solid member of the JTTF, but did she have the seniority or experience necessary for an investigation like this? Not that he should have expected any better from the FBI. Leave it to them to put a pretty face on the investigation, knowing full well it would mean the case would go unsolved. Or worse, that they would get the arrest but botch the investigation so badly the perpetrators would walk free.
He’d seen it happen. He’d lived it.
Not to mention that if she didn’t solve this case, their friendship,or whatever it was they had, would never survive. Why couldn’t it have been anyone but Faith?
“I’m going to take it from the way your expression went from hostile to murderous that you had not yet been made aware of my role in the investigation. I’m going to check on Zane’s condition. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”
Faith’s face disappeared, then her pale brown hand and perfectly manicured fingertips slipped from the edge of the door. It closed with a faint click.
How could she drop a bombshell like that and leave?
I did tell her to go away.
He stared at the door, but it didn’t reopen.
