Page 51 of Missing Justice

She stumbled toward the bed and Matt caught her arm, easing her down to a sitting position. He kept holding onto her as he sat next to her and pried the gun from her fingers. “Taylor, look at me. Breathe.”

The panic kept rising, crushing her, filling up her throat. “I…I can’t.”

Strong hands tipped her head down between her knees. “Who’s your favorite FBI badass ever in the history of the Bureau?”

What? Why was he asking her that right now? “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. Tell me who you idolized.”

Her brain tried to focus, the memory of the night Isabel disappeared losing its hold. “I guess…I guess it’s Grey.”

“Really? All the directors and fancy profilers, and you choose a guy who lasted less than five years and quit?”

He was teasing her, but she felt the ice melting. She could swallow again. “Yeah, so? He was the best behavioral analyst I ever met. I only worked with him a couple of times before he and Mitch torched their careers, but I learned a lot from him. He always has a system, a process. It works. I use the techniques he taught me. That’s why my close rate is so high.”

Matt helped her sit back up, his forehead creased with concern. “Better?”

She was.

“Remember what I said about those demons?”

Brushing hair out of her face, she nodded.

“That little reaction you just had to the idea that someone broke into your place is related to your demons, isn’t it?”

Absolutely. “Someone was in here, and it wasn’t a street burglar. It was someone who worked around my security system, looked at my notes on the Jarvis case, and found my badge in that drawer.”

“We kicked the hornet’s nest tonight and one of them came flying out.”

She nodded. “And it wasn’t Dottie. Whoever this was had the tools and expertise to almost get away with it.”

“Whoever it was now knows you’re not Mrs. Dillinger.”

Her legs shook when she stood but she went for her phone anyway. “I’ll call one of my friends in forensics and have her dust for prints. I doubt we’ll find any.”

Matt followed her. “Aren’t you going to report the break-in?”

“No. I don’t want whoever it is to know that I’m aware they were here, but you’re right. The jig is up. I also don’t want my bosses to know that I went outside FBI procedure, played undercover agent without their okay, and let a potential kidnapper and murderer break into my place where he got by my security system and password protected laptop to read my notes on the case. God, Mer will kill me.”

There would be more hell to pay if that happened, and as it was, she was nearly out of time on her 72-hour deadline.

She started to make the call when Matt stopped her, already speed dialing someone on his phone. “I’ve got this.”

He spoke to one of the sisters he worked for, and twenty minutes later, a gal in ratty designer jeans and boots that cost more than Taylor’s paycheck, showed up on her doorstep. “Charlie,” Matt said, introducing them, “this is Taylor. Taylor, Charlie.”

Charlie nodded at Taylor in passing, yawning her way into the place with a black bag in hand. “You owe me,” she said to Matt, snapping on gloves and laying out her tools on the kitchen table.

“Add it to my tab,” he replied.

Taylor felt a spurt of jealousy that quickly left. It was evident as the two worked side-by-side that there was nothing between them except a friendly camaraderie.

An hour later, Charlie Schock confirmed that the only prints inside the condo were Taylor and Matt’s, but Matt had found faint pry marks on the bedroom window where the intruder had forced it open.

After showing Charlie out and promising to buy her two tickets to the next Washington Capitals hockey game, Matt turned to Taylor. “Pack your bags. You’re staying with me tonight, and first thing in the morning we’re going back to the TriCare Health Birthing Center to talk to Mrs. Hernandez and everyone else involved with that group.”

* * *

It took a serious set of balls—not to mention skill—to break into an FBI agent’s place, bypass said agent’s security on both the home and laptop and not even take anything.