Page 63

Ipaused for a second as I showed the uniformed woman behind the glass my badge. It was still so shiny that it was hard to hide how new it was.

“Eva Rae Wilson? Agent Wilson?”

Her eyes lifted and met mine through the glass. The sound of my name made me wince slightly. After being married five years and changing my maiden name—Thomas—out with Wilson, I still hadn’t gotten used to being called that. I had discussed it intensely with my husband, Chad. I had wanted to keep Thomas because I loved that name, but he got very offended that I didn’t want to carry his name, so in the end, I caved. I just liked the sound of Agent Thomas better than Agent Wilson. Don’t ask me why. I guess I wasn’t prepared for losing my identity like that. In my mind, I was still Eva Rae Thomas as I had been my entire life.

“I don’t think I’ve met you before. You new?”

I nodded, blushing slightly. “Yes. Got with the bureau just recently.”

She gave me an annoyed look, then lifted her eyebrows. “And you’re here to see Frank Woods?”

“Yes. I’ve filled out all the paperwork.”

“Okay, looking fine…” she said, looking at the papers I had handed her when arriving. “You got the signature there, and on the back as well… and your initials on page three, yes. I guess you’re good to go.”

She leaned over and pressed the button to open the locks on the double doors leading inside the prison. This bunker-like building only housed the worst of the criminals in the D.C. area. It was my first time there, and I wasn’t without jitters. I walked through and showed my badge once again, just lifting it so the guard could see it. I enjoyed showing it still, as it was something I had worked really hard to achieve. Becoming an FBI profiler with the BAU, Behavioral Analysis Unit, was a lifelong dream of mine, and it had finally come true. I had taken four years of psychology in college, then gone through training at the FBI Academy before being stationed at a field office in D.C. for three years before applying for the BAU. I couldn’t believe that I had been selected for training, and after two and a half years, I was a fully functioning FBI profiler. Now, it was time for me to show them my skills. And I knew exactly how to impress them all. The solution was standing right in front of me a few seconds later when I sat down in the interview room, and the door was opened.

“Frank Woods,” I said to the guy in the orange jumpsuit. His hands and feet were chained together as he was guided inside, flanked by two guards with stern looks on their faces. He wasn’t as handsome as in the pictures I had in my file in front of me, but he was still a good-looking guy. The salt and pepper on the sides of his hair suited him, and it was clear he had spent the last six years on the inside working out. He was a lot more muscular now than he had been when convicted for murdering his wife.

I pointed at the chair in front of me, smiling politely, trying my best to hide just how nervous I was.

“Have a seat. You and I have a lot to talk about.”