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Tessman insisted on carrying her overstuffed backpack and her laptop bag for her. Neither man pulled his weapon as they walked to the elevator, which also required a code and palmprint to call the car. She assumed this was a secure area. With all the security to enter, it certainly wasn’t a public facing space. She relaxed and followed them to the elevator.
“We’re going to stop on five and get something to eat,” Tessman told Jackson, pressing the five button within the elevator car.
Jackson nodded. He pressed ten. “I’m going up to Shepherd’s penthouse to make an in-person report before I head home. Angel has already put the kids to bed, but she’s waiting to have dinner with me. She’s kept it warm.” He smiled appreciatively.
Becca heard him and it took a second to process that Angel was his wife. She’d noticed that they both wore wedding bands, as did Cooper and Brielle, but hadn’t suspected that Angel and Jackson were married. And they had children, which surprised her because of the job he did. She knew she’d never be able to be married to a man who was in law enforcement. She’d be too worried every time he went to work that he wouldn’t make it home. Families that could do it impressed her.
The elevator stopped on the fifth floor. Tessman motioned her out. “I’ll get her settled in the apartment after we eat. I’ll notify Ops when she’s there and I plan on staying in my office tonight,” Tessman told Jackson. He also stepped into the hallway.
Jackson nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Becca. This building is a fortress. You’re completely safe here.”
“Thank you,” she said before the elevator door slid closed.
“Come on,” Tessman said, nodding to the hallway.
She followed him to the kitchen. He set her bags on one side of the large table. Then he opened the refrigerator. “We have Chinese. Looks like wonton soup, fried rice, Mongolian beef, and some cashew chicken. And there are sandwich spirals and a garden salad, and of course chips.” He flashed her a grin. “Can’t have sandwich spirals without chips.”
She peeked over his shoulder and saw large containers with each on the shelves in the full-size refrigerator. “You said Angel orders lunch in every day. Does this food belong to someone in particular? I wouldn’t want to eat someone’s food.”
“She orders large quantities for everyone in the office and to have enough left-overs for anyone working nights or getting back to HQ at an odd hour. It’s one of the many perks of our job. I’m going to have some Chinese. This place she orders from is the best one in the area.” He began taking those containers from the fridge.
“That sounds good. I could go for some soup and fried rice. Thank you.”
He took two bowls and two plates down from the cabinet. After they portioned out what food they wanted, he put hers in the microwave to cook first. He grabbed two bottles of water from the door, holding one up in offer to her.
“Yes, thank you. About this agency, Carter, I know you said your boss will talk to me tomorrow, but can’t you explain why you carry an FBI badge?”
The microwave dinged. He placed her dishes on the table. Steam rose, sending the incredible scent of the food throughout the room. Becca had felt just a little hungry, but now, sniffing the aroma, she was famished.
“Go ahead and start,” Tessman said, nodding to her food. “Don’t let it get cold waiting for mine to heat.”
She dug in. It tasted as good as it smelled. It was only after he joined her at the table that she gazed at him with a questioning look, waiting for him to explain how he was an FBI agent.
“Our status is complicated,” he began. “We are officially a multi-agency task force, but that’s not the entirety of it. Our boss, Shepherd, will explain it fully to you tomorrow.”
“When Detective Davis told me about him and this agency, he mentioned that your boss is a retired colonel from the army and that the majority of you who work for this agency are former military. He didn’t say anything about anyone being federal agents or how you can work cases like mine. He said your agency was some sort of private investigators.”
“We are that too,” Tessman said. “As I said, it’s complicated. And I am not at liberty to tell you all of it. But Shepherd will tomorrow morning.”
“Why can’t you tell me what he’s going to?” she pressed.
“Because I signed an NDA and could be prosecuted for divulging the information to you because you haven’t been read in yet by Shepherd.”
Becca was taken aback by this pronouncement. “Will he ask me to sign an NDA?”
“Probably,” Tessman admitted. “Look, what I can tell you is our agency does a lot of good. We help people other forces, agencies, and police departments don’t or can’t. People like you.”
She nodded, knowing they’d helped her not only by taking on this case, but this evening with the two armed men at her sister’s house. Had she not had them to call, she may be dead, or if not, she would probably have been forced to shoot that second man, and maybe the third. She took several more bites of food.
“I can’t argue that fact,” she said after she’d chewed and swallowed. “And I’ll reserve judgement until I talk with your boss tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you for respecting that I can’t tell you anything more,” Tessman said.
“If this last month has taught me anything, it’s patience. All things have a process that I can’t rush, no matter how much I would like to.”
“The one positive outcome from tonight is that I think Davis will look at your sister’s family’s murders again. If he takes from the crime scene report what we did, he’ll know your brother-in-law killed no one.”
“If he reopens the case, does that mean that you and Jackson won’t continue to look into it?”