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A man was dead, and justice needed to be found.
She continued, “Lately, I’m learning the art of relying on other people and not trying to maintain an iron-fisted control over every tiny little detail.”
Jax chuckled, but he didn’t turn or say anything. She would’ve kicked him, but there wasn’t enough room in this tiny car.
Jim said, “We may need your help. We have no idea what will happen.”
So there was a reason why they hadn’t had a huge team of feds with them the whole time. Or why they hadn’t called for backup at the first sign of trouble. The pilot had been killed, and there was a trail of bodies up through Wisconsin, but not once had the marshals called their boss and asked for help.
“If I’m available, I’ll be there.” Nothing would stop her.
The next time Ramon Santiago called, she wanted to tell him that not only had she found his sister and he could finally bury her, but she’d also made progress on clearing his name. Getting his life back.
Plus, she wanted to hear Jim’s statement. Find out what evidence there was that Cecilia Warren was dirty. As an FBI agent, she had to be above reproach in her professional conduct. Kenna wanted to know what happened after they’d parted ways—not long after they left Quantico. They’d keptin touch, but that had been sporadic and dropped off completely after Kenna left the FBI.
Where had Cecelia gone wrong?
Kenna had looked at her career, and she’d risen quickly. She’d received accolades and awards and been recognized in promotions. On the surface, it seemed unlikely that Cecilia Warren had been working her own angle on the side—for whatever reason. Didn’t have to be money. Until she met Ramon Santiago in Mexico, she hadn’t thought about Cecilia in years.
Now, she met a second person who had something to say about the FBI agent.
Is this Your leading?
Jax pulled into the parking lot, and the front door of the sheriff’s office opened. Gingrich stepped out, holding a shotgun across his body. He waved Jax into the open space right by the door, then turned around so he could back in.
They all piled out, and she stood by Pilsborough until he had his balance. She walked beside him up the curb to the door. “This guy needs a chair.”
“Or a hospital?” Gingrich suggested.
“We’ll take a doc on a house call if you’ve got one,” Destain said. “But we’re sticking together.”
Pilsborough nodded.
Destain spotted him through the door into the office. Jax and Jim made four of them, a protective detail—though at this point she wasn’t sure who was protecting who.
Reuben hung back. Kenna motioned with her head toward the sheriff. “This young man would like a word in private with Forrest Crosby’s lawyer.”
Gingrich rolled his eyes. “That guy has been driving us crazy. Hounding us with all kinds of attempts to get her released, then leaving to meet with the county judge at thecountry club of all places. Then he comes back and demands to know where he can find a Michelin star restaurant where he can order food to be delivered.” The sheriff shook his head.
“Turns out I have a way to get them all out of your hair.” Kenna held the door for Reuben, who seemed nervous. “Let’s go find the lawyer.”
Gingrich’s department smelled like fresh coffee.
Kenna’s stomach rumbled. “Then we’ll figure out breakfast.”
Jax pulled out his phone. “I’ll do that. You get him in with the lawyer.”
Across the room, Deputy Rayland stood up from his chair, pushed it back, and leaned both fists on his desk. “What’s this?”
Kenna didn’t like the way he asked that. She touched Reuben’s shoulder. “Private client, lawyer business. That’s all.”
Rayland shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. State police are transferring Forrest Crosby to the jail this morning.”
Not after this, they wouldn’t be. She wanted to say,Unless the charges get dropped, but kept her mouth shut.
Just then, Lucas Amrand stepped out of the conference room. Total big-city lawyer, and he looked about twenty-five at most. Slick brown hair, neatly cut. His suit, tie, and shoes probably cost more than her car if she’d added in his Italian leather briefcase and the coat he’d draped over a chair.
“Mr. Amrand”—Kenna gestured to Reuben—“this young man would like to speak to you about Forrest’s alibi the morning of the murder.”