46
Blaisdell Holmes was seated at her desk, her mouth set in a grim line, when Cash rapped on her open office door. Holmes was having a difficult time maintaining an unruffled demeanor. She had a persistent and ugly idea that Reno would still be alive if not for her senior agent. In a male-dominated field such as theirs, where women had to work twice as hard to make it to the top, as she had, it angered her to see another woman screw up so badly and put them both at risk. What made it worse was that Holmes liked Agent Cash. But now she knew that Cash had been dishonest with her, even betrayed her.
Holmes beckoned for Cash to come in. She looked like she’d been run through the dryer. Her hair was a mess, eyes red, clothes unkempt. Holmes guessed she’d slept at CBI the night before.
Cash didn’t sit, and Holmes made no effort to invite her to.
“Agent Cash, we need to have a rather difficult conversation,” Holmes said, remaining seated behind her desk.
Cash did not reply. If she was self-conscious about her appearance, she didn’t show it. She stood across from Holmes, her hands clasped behind her back, a wreck. Holmes felt a sliver of pity that she quickly quashed.
“First off,” Holmes said, trying to keep her voice even, “I’d like to remind you that we have a psychologist on staff who can help with grief counseling and other issues related to the death of our colleague. I know you were close.”
“I’m prepared to tender my resignation.”
Holmes gave Cash a long, steady look. “Excuse me, Agent Cash, but I’m not going to let you fuck things up and then run away. Understood?”
Cash gave a curt nod.
“Back to what I was saying. Grief counseling isn’t a suggestion. Schedule an appointment.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Holmes kept her voice carefully neutral. “You contravened my direct orders and enlisted Romanski and Reno in an effort to perform DNA testing on the relic.”
Cash stiffened. “Yes, ma’am.”
“While I’m not blaming you for Reno’s death, I must point out that it wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t gone behind my back.”
“Yes, ma’am. I blame myself.” Her voice choked up.
Holmes went on, “I have made my decision. I am taking you off the Shrouder investigation, effective immediately. There have been too many missteps. Furthermore, while it isn’t necessarily your fault, the press has revived your Maine incident. As I’m sure you’re aware, this Shrouder case has gone national.48 Hoursis literally camped outside as we speak. There have been questions about why you were hired here despite your history.” Holmes paused, feeling the anger rising again. “Going behind my back is unacceptable. I have been very clear with you that there isn’t—therecan’tbe—the slightest evidentiary value in sequencing the DNA of this relic. And it means defying the Catholic Church and the priest sent here by the pope himself. We have enough trouble with Father Moore without adding the pope to our list of critics. And on top of that, as you already know, it appears there’s a leak at CBI.” She allowed a silence to fall while she looked pointedly at Cash. She didn’t believe it was Cash, but you never knew for sure with these things. After letting an uncomfortable beat pass, Holmes took a deep breath. “Do you understand?”
“I understand, ma’am.”
Cash looked almost… resigned. Holmes was grateful for her silence. Maybe she was finally learning to keep her mouth shut.
“Reno’s effort to save the relic was not in vain. We will be turning it over to the priest to be taken back to Rome, where it belongs, as soon as we’ve finished the paperwork. And as I’m sure you know by now, we’ve given Romanski a leave of absence. Reno’s death hit him hard.”
She could see Cash’s face burning with emotion.
“Any questions?”
Cash smoothed the front of her pants, as if in an effort to pull herself together. “Ma’am, who is taking over the Shrouder investigation?”
“I am. Standish will be my deputy. You’ll brief him tomorrow. Then I want you to make that appointment with the psychologist, go home, and get some rest. Take a few days off.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
