The moment the picture was taken, Talia had been playfully threatening Julian’s life. She’d warned him away from revealing her age to the others.
In a rare show of camaraderie, their teammate Keith grabbed his phone and snapped the picture. He later sent it to her, and when they returned to the States, Talia had it printed and framed in Julian’s memory.
I’m so sorry, Julian. I miss you so, so much.
A familiar tightness quickly began to spread across her chest. The weight of her friend and former teammate’s death still weighed heavily on her shoulders.
She’d lived with the guilt of what happened to Julian every day since that horrible explosion. A fitting penance, she supposed, given it was her fault the man was dead.
Keith thought so. The CIA, too, seeing as how they hadn’t wasted any time letting her take the fall. So yeah, Talia felt responsible for the guy getting killed.
Of course, she did.
But sitting here, feeling sorry for herself wasn’t going to change the fate of her friend. She could, however, start acting like the government agent she was instead of hosting a solo pity party.
Starting with a full, deep,thoroughsweep of her hotel room.
Talia slid the picture back into the envelope, careful not to transfer any more of her own prints in the process. When she got back to D.C., her first stop would be a visit to the brilliant Dr. Scarlett O’Neill.
Fingerprints. Blood spatter. Cybersecurity. Profiling.
Dr. O’Neill was one of the country’s leading experts in all things forensics and criminal psychology. It didn’t hurt that the spunky redhead was also the closest thing Talia had to an actual friend.
If there was even the smallest trace of evidence to be found on the envelope or photo, Scarlett would be the one to find it. But even as she thought this, Talia’s gut said she was going to come up empty, and there wouldn’t be anything to find.
Regardless of the results, she still at least had to try. Someone was playing games, and they were using Julian’s memory to do it. As she sat there, staring at Julian’s sweet, fun-loving face, something told her this was only the beginning.
Screw that.
Talia shot up from the bed and began her search. For the next hour, she looked at every nook, cranny, and corner of her room.
Drawers. Lampshades. Behind the T.V. mounted on the wall.
She looked everywhere she’d think to hide a tiny camera, mic, or both. Unfortunately, the exhaustive search led to nothing more than a few dust bunnies, a backless earring, and something that may or may not have, at one time, been a raisin.
The room was clean. Nothing of hers had been taken or moved. From what she could tell, her personal items hadn’t even been touched.
Someonehad been here while she and the teams had been at the port. The burning question was who?
Who? Why? And how the hell did they even know I was here, or when I’d be away from my room?
Unless the clerk downstairs was lying or mistaken, it hadn’t been left by a member of the hotel staff. The only way to know for sure would be to access the hotel’s security footage.
A task like that would be child’s play to a group like Delta Team. But this was personal, and the last thing Talia wanted to do was to drag Jagger or his teammates into whatever the hell this was.
She turned and glanced at the clock on her nightstand, the digital numbers a crude, illuminated reminder of how late into the night it had become. Her window to rest was rapidly closing, so she quickly formed a new plan.
Meet with Delta and Echo to go over the op. Drive to the airport from there and fly back to D.C. Cash in the favor Scarlett owes me, then check in with Homeland about the next steps in the case against Arlo Sanchez.
What happened after that would depend on what Scarlett managed to find.
Talia walked back over to her bed. Sleep wasn’t just calling her name, it was shouting it from the rooftop. She slippedbeneath the bed’s soft, plush covers before reaching for the bedside lamp.
Three ibuprofens, a swig of water, and one final glimpse at the envelope later, the light went off. Minutes later, an exhausted Talia had fallen soundly asleep.
7
Delta Team conferenceroom
