Page 60 of Missing Justice

If she stuck her neck out too far, she would get her head cut off. Which meant no more Jarvis case. No more grooming to take over Mer’s spot.

One mistake. That’s all it took in the cutthroat world of the Bureau to ruin a career.

Mitch had done it. So had Grey eventually, because he was loyal to Mitch and their friendship.

Taylor wasn’t throwing her career away for a friend or any other noble cause.

Except justice.

Is there anything more noble?

“I’m going to find that child,” Taylor said, standing up. “And when I do, we’ll have our killer.”

“You better hope so,” Mer called as Taylor exited her office. “Because you’ve definitely murdered your career over this.”

For half a second, Taylor hesitated. Then she turned back. “This job used to be about bringing criminals to justice and handing them over to the courts for retribution, not how many likes the Bureau gets on Facebook or the spin a bunch of reporters put on a story.”

Mer did come out of her seat this time. She balled her fists and leaned on her desk, eyes nearly bugging out of her head. “Don’t lecture me on the morality of this institution, Agent Sinclair, or I will personally take your badge and gun and escort you from this building.”

Fidelity, bravery, integrity. Taylor wasn’t quite sure where those principles were hiding these days in the halls of the FBI. But she took a step back and gave her boss—herused to bementor—a nod of acquiescence. Meredith wasn’t just threatening to take the case away; she was threatening to fire her lead cold case closer.

That took some giant-sized balls.

“Yes, ma’am.” Taylor fought to keep the Mitch Monroe tone out of her voice. “I’ll get back to work.”

In the elevator on the way down to her office, Taylor felt a certain euphoria, which was weird, considering she’d just pissed off her boss for the third day in a row.

On the plus side, she had Mer’s grudging approval to bring Dottie in and question her officially.

Things are about to get real.

Leaving the elevator, she checked her messages. Matt had called three times, all voicemails short and succinct. “Call me.”

From the terse urgency in his voice, Taylor’s euphoria dissipated.

Something was wrong.

She closed her door and dialed his number. “Hey, what’s up?” she said when he answered.

His voice lacked his usual calm. “The sticker on the truck. Do you have anything in your files about it?”

“What sticker?” Taylor went to her desk. Files and half-empty coffee cups littered the top. She cleared away a couple of piles and dragged out the fat Felicity Jarvis folder. “I assume we’re talking about Felicity’s kidnapper’s truck?”

“Walt said in an interview with Charlie that Felicity mentioned a sticker on the truck. Charlie talked to Walt initially, before she handed the investigation over to me last year. Do you have anything in your file about it?”

Taylor frowned, flipping open the main folder and skipping to the transcript of Walt’s initial interview with Grey. “I don’t remember anything about a sticker on the truck. Why? What’s got you all fired up about a truck sticker?”

“Walt never told me about any sticker, but he told Charlie about it in detail, including that it was an eagle with a God Bless America sentiment written on it. It was located on the lower right back window.”

“O-kay.” She wasn’t sure where this was going, although any lead at this point was good with her. “And you believe this has some significance?”

“Not sure what, but it seems weird to me that Felicity noticed the sticker and Walt mentioned it to Charlie and the PD detectives, but then didn’t say anything to me about it. I don’t know. I may be reaching. It could be nothing.”

She read quickly, skimming over Grey’s notes inserted in the transcript. “There’s nothing in the transcript I have about a sticker. Nothing that Grey added in his notes. Walt said Felicity told him it was a silver pickup, but she didn’t mention the make or model. No other details, other than she’d seen it more than once following her. I can look through the rest of the notes if you want.”

A heavy silence came from his end of the phone. “Do it in the car. I’ll pick you up in fifteen.”

“Where are we—”