Page 57 of The Devoted Game
Vivian watched him walk away, the long fluid strides making her throat dry.
Pratt looked up, came to attention as if he had been dozing as McBride joined him.
Vivian’s phone vibrated again.Worth.
She cleared her throat and answered the call. “Grace.”
“Don’t let McBride get on that plane.”
Sixteen
1000 Eighteenth Street, 10:00 a.m.
There wasn’t a lot happening in downtown Birmingham as ten o’clock rolled around on a Sunday morning. The city looked deserted. Ryan figured most of the good folks in this Southern town were probably having breakfast or getting ready for church. But every damned reporter from Huntsville to Mobile had joined in the vigil outside the Bureau gates.
If it bleeds it leads. And this one was bleeding Bureau blue. Andrew Quinn had moved up the hierarchy during his service, all the way to the executive level before retiring. But the bigger headline was the man wielding the gun, Derrick Braden—grieving father and child advocate.
Just like three years ago all over again. Ryan could have done without that particular trip down memory lane.
Birmingham PD forced the mob back as Grace turned her SUV onto the block. Once they were inside the gate, camera flashes and shouted questions accompanied their trip from the vehicle to the main entrance of the building. With no guard on duty inside just yet, a slide of Grace’s ID card got them through the door and out of reach.
Just another circus act. This bizarre story and its connection to a high-profile federal case of the past would boost ratings, and everyone wanted center ring.
Judging by the number of bodies rushing around inside, Ryan decided that all agents assigned to Birmingham’s field office and maybe some borrowed ones from a neighboring office or two were on hand. Though he didn’t recognize some of the faces, he was certain they were all feds. He could spot a federal agent a mile off. Ever-present formal bearing, shoes always shined, and sleek business uniforms ready for inspection.
Ryan, on the other hand, wore his comfortably tattered jeans, his favorite khaki shirt that was now missing two buttons, and the earthy feminine scent of Special Agent Vivian Grace.
He should be ashamed of himself for having sex with her in a bathroom stall, but he wasn’t.
If he got the chance, he’d do it again.
As soon as they reached the third floor, ASAC Talley invited Ryan to wait in the conference room, then diverted Grace to Worth’s office. Gathered around the long table were a couple of the usual suspects, Agents Pratt and Davis. Schaffer and Aldridge were conspicuously missing.
Then the expected waiting game began.
Ryan loathed waiting. The Bureau utilized the tactic for building and manipulating three things: discomfort, frustration, and fear. Even when they saidpleaseandthank you, offered coffee, and promised to be right with you, the maneuver was designed for promoting one of those three elements. He should know, he had utilized that very method on enough suspects.
On cue, the instant Ryan lowered his empty cup to the table, Pratt jumped to the task of going for a coffee refill. There was always the chance that the agent had taken this particular task on as his personal quest to support the effort of keeping Ryan functioning. But, more likely, he had been instructed to make sure Ryan didn’t get antsy.
Across the room, the timeline related to the ongoing investigation into Devoted Fan remained intact. Pictures and notes regarding Braden and Quinn had been posted, along with a sidebar related to investigativereporter Nadine Goodman’s breaking news. Interestingly, two additional computers had been set up on one side of the room, along with a second monitor following local news. A complete command post.
Ryan doubted that he had been drug back here and left with Pratt and Davis to stare at each other if another email had been received. Wasting the allotted time would be a major infraction of procedure. Worth was too anal for that. Whatever was going down, Worth was prepping for how to approach Ryan on the situation. Something was definitely brewing around here besides the local supermarket’s store brand coffee.
There was always the chance they had come up with some aspect of this investigation to blame on him. But Ryan wasn’t worried. What could they possibly do to him they hadn’t already done?
Couldn’t destroy his career since he didn’t have one and, oh yeah, they had done that already anyway. Couldn’t take away his life ... he didn’t have one of those either.
All present at the table sat in silence, suggesting that orders not to discuss whatever had occurred since late last night had been issued or that the agents were as in the dark as Ryan. Just something else he detested, the tendency of the managerial level to hold back as much knowledge for as long as possible in order to ensure they wielded all the power.
They could have it; he wanted no part of it.
There would be another flight to Miami sometime today. As long as he wasn’t taken into custody and didn’t go completely stupid, he still had a chance of getting out of here.
As if some Fate had it in for him more so than usual, Grace entered the room and Ryan’s attention riveted to her. The jade suit fit her shape in a way that had him remembering every single curve and mound he’d explored. An unfamiliar and annoying tightening sensation in his chest made him want to stretch it out or walk it off.
Talley and Worth appeared, preempting any opportunity to ask Grace what the hell was up now. Or to drag her to the nearest closetand go for an encore. He doubted she would allow that to happen again in this lifetime.
If she hadn’t been so pissed off at him and frustrated with Worth and the case, Ryan felt reasonably certain that walk on the wild side at the airport wouldn’t have happened at all.