Page 65 of The Right to Remain

“Absolutely. I’ll be right back.”

Andie zipped her winter coat and stepped out. It was a ground-floor room that exited directly to the parking lot, but the early-morning fog was so thick that Andie could barely see across the highway to the coffee shop—her meeting spot—on the other side. A light rain had fallen overnight. The puddles on the asphalt hadn’t frozen over, but it was cold enough to see her breath. Once upon a time, Andie wouldn’t have regarded a typical Seattle winter morning as “cold,” but living in Miami had changed all that. She buried her hands in her pockets, crossed at the crosswalk, and hurried into the warm coffee shop. She spotted her undercover handler, Special Agent Francine Goodale, seated at a table near the window. Andie and Francine had started in the Seattle office the same year, looked out for one another early in their careers, and remained friends over the years even after Andie’s transfer to Miami.

Andie removed her coat and joined her at the table. “Good news,” said Andie. “I have names for you.”

Francine didn’t smile, which concerned Andie.

“What’s wrong?” asked Andie.

“Our budget has been slashed,” said Francine. “We’re shutting down.”

“But I’m finally getting traction here. We could be on the verge of making an arrest.”

“Trust me, Andie, I’ve been pleading our case. But every now and then you run into a brick wall that makes you think it was the FBI who put thebureauinbureaucracy. The funds for this operation have already been reallocated. This came straight from headquarters—the ‘other Washington.’ Counterterrorism is the number one priority.”

Andie’s heart sank. Counterterrorism was important work, but at that moment, it was hard to fathom a higher priority than a teenage girl trapped in the sex trade.

“We have to fight this. Call Isaac Underwood. He’s a big-shot assistant director now. He works right down the hall from these Washington bureaucrats who cut our funding.”

Isaac had been Andie’s first supervisory agent in the Seattle field office. He’d gone out on a limb for an agent just two years out of the FBI Academy, entrusting Andie with an undercover assignment that would change the trajectory of her career.

“I tried Isaac. You know that if there was something he could do, he’d do it in a heartbeat.” Francine slid an airplane ticket across the table. “You’ll be home this weekend.”

Andie checked the ticket and put it in her coat pocket. “This totally sucks. Nothing more to say.”

“There is one other thing,” Francine said. “I’ve been in daily contact with the Miami office since you came here. I told them what excellent work you’re doing and how happy you are to be back in undercover work.”

“Thank you for that.”

“There’s more. There’s a new investigation with a Miami connection that I thought would be perfect for you. It just got approved while you were out here. Unfortunately, I was told you’re walled off.”

“Why?”

“It’s not my place to tell you. I’m sure you’ll hear about it when you get back. But off the record, so to speak, I did want to give you a heads-up.”

Francine was giving her “the eye”—a knowing look they used to share when watching each other’s back as the two youngest women in a field office that, at the time, was run by old men.

“Okay,” Andie said in a tentative voice. “What’s this about?”

“It has to do with your husband’s friend. The bar owner who sometimes works as an investigator. Do you know him?”

“Yes. Theo Knight. Is there a problem?”

“Again, you’re officially walled off, so I can’t get too specific. But as an old friend, I can say this much. Lately, Mr. Knight’s choice of business associates has not been very smart.”

“Wait. Stop right there, Francine. Theo has been on the up-and-up as long as I’ve known him. He’s Jack’s best friend. He’s like an uncle to my daughter.”

“That’s exactly why I’m telling you this. He’s been running a supposed import-export business out of Miami’s foreign trade zone. It didn’t get on anyone’s radar till recently, when he got chummy with some radical who’s been on the FBI watch list for years. Turns out Mr. Knight has been importing dozens of empty barrels at a time, but his business hasn’t actually sold anything—ever.”

Objectively speaking, that didn’t sound good. “So, he’s under suspicion?” asked Andie.

“He’s drawing attention to himself. The kind of attention a prominent criminal defense lawyer doesn’t need, if you know what I mean.”

Andie paused to consider the implication. “What would you do, if you were me?”

“Oh, come on, Andie. Don’t make me spell this out for you. We both know you can’t tell Theo Knight we talked. You can’t even tell Jack we had this conversation. But if Jack were my husband...”

“You’d tell him to keep his distance from Theo, for the time being.”