Page 113 of Girl Between (Dana Gray FBI Mystery Thriller #5)

George took stock of the unofficial team he’d assembled.

Dana, LaSalle, Neville, and Richter crowded his small office.

Lena was there too, via video call. They’d each replied to his summons without question, but now that they were here, shades drawn, door locked, they had questions.

Especially after George dropped the bombshell about the FBI basically forcing them off their own case.

“I haven’t heard anything about that,” LaSalle argued.

“And you won’t, but Creed was clear. He and the FBI are pulling rank,” countered George.

“He won’t make anything official until he’s got a lead so he can look like the hero while we’re left looking like incompetent assholes who can’t find a killer who’s been operating under our noses for twenty plus years. ”

But George knew he couldn't let defeat cloud his judgment. He had to stay focused, and he needed his team to do the same. He called this briefing, hoping to rekindle their determination. The scent of stale coffee mingled with the palpable tension in the room. There was no time to waste.

“So, what are we supposed to do?” LaSalle asked.

"We're not giving up," George began, his voice steady but somber. "Monroe is still out there. That means the job isn’t done, and we don’t quit until it is. Just because we’re not in the inner circle doesn’t mean we give up.

We keep pulling at the threads we’ve got.

Sooner or later this thing will unravel. ”

Neville nodded, lines of fatigue etched on his face. "We’ll keep digging.”

“Fontera might know more than he's letting on,” Richter offered. “I can take a crack at him if Creed gives me the go-ahead."

George shook his head. “Lena, if we’re gonna crack this thing, it starts with you. I need a positive ID on the attic vic.”

“I’m trying,” she promised. “But the DNA is severely deteriorated.”

George tried to rein in his frustration. “Okay, but you gotta give me something. What have you learned so far?”

“From what I can tell, the corpse has been in the attic for at least twenty years. Maybe more,” Lena explained. “I don’t have COD yet, but I can tell you she’s a Caucasian female. Late teens, early twenties at time of death.”

Dana piped up. “That would make her around Monroe’s age.” Her gaze met George’s. “Could she be a relative?”

George shook his head. He knew Monroe’s file inside and out. “Monroe’s an only child.”

“What about step or foster siblings?” LaSalle asked.

Dana nodded, seeming to like that line of reasoning. “I think you might be onto something. The way the victim was preserved shows reverence, care, something one might reserve for a loved one. Monroe lacked that level of empathy with his other victims.”

“Good,” George said, pointing to LaSalle. “Look into any familial possibilities we may have missed pertaining to step or foster siblings.”

“On it,” she said, slipping from the room.

“The rest of you, keep digging. There’s gotta be something we’re missing.” George turned his attention back to Lena’s face on his desktop. “Lena, I need an ID.”

“I can’t pull it out of thin air,” she argued. “My office isn’t exactly stocked with the equipment to run forensics on a mummy. ”

“Then what good are you?” George bellowed, desperation ringing in his tone.

He didn’t miss the way everyone in the room flinched at his outburst. But he didn’t have time to worry about the repercussions. “Call me when you have something useful,” he said, slamming the laptop shut.

George glanced at the victim files and photographs covering his desk. Each image told a story of a life cut short, and he was determined to bring them justice. It was moments like these that defined his resilience. He couldn't afford to lose focus now. With a deep breath, he pushed forward.

He lifted his gaze to each person standing in his office before he spoke. “The clock is ticking, people. Do your jobs.”