Page 45 of Whistleblower

But right before I make my exit, another gnawing question creeps to the forefront of my mind and I can’t help but pivot at the door and unleash my question from earlier.

“Vesper…off the record. You said the FBI gave you a choice, it was help them, or what?”

When her face flattens, I immediately regret opening my big mouth. I try to tell her to ignore me, but she must read my mind because she holds up her palm.

“It’s okay, Eden. I’m sure you still have a lot of questions. Most I can’t answer, but this one… I can trust you, right?”

I nod fervently. “Yes.”

“Death row,” she says simply, watching my jaw fall open. “I was only eighteen years old, and it was either join the FBI or face my crimes.”

“Vesper… I…” I am lost for words. Crimes? I thought you were the good guy.

She juts her chin toward the door. “I can see myself out. Go ahead. Whatever you just remembered sounds important,” she says with a sly smile.

* * *

I rarely venture down the hallway that holds the medical clinic. The word “clinic” may be an exaggeration—it’s just two rooms side by side. One sterile room for procedures, and one basic exam room. Our new in-house doctor is a bit of a unicorn. The FBI must be dolling out serious cash for her employment…and discretion. From what I understand, she’s versatile enough to stitch up a bullet wound but can also perform a gynecological exam. She’s a gas station convenience store—a little bit of all the random things you may need.

As I make my way down the hallway, I hear a commotion in the room to the right. Linc must be in the exam room. At any other hospital in the world, interrupting an exam would be completely inappropriate—a sin against HIPAA. But I don’t know when I’ll run into him again, and right now, I’m desperate to talk to him.

I hold my hand up to knock on the door but the sound of a whimper stops me.

Then, a loud crash.

I’m tempted to barge in. A crash and then a cry means someone needs help—someone’s in danger. But as I place my hand on the doorknob, the doctor’s voice sings through clear as day.

“Oh, God. Yes! Just like that. Don’t fucking stop.”

Another crash, and now the rhythmic banging I’m hearing makes perfect sense. It’s the exam table knocking against the wall.

I’m paralyzed as the gnawing discomfort in my stomach expands. The growing pressure of embarrassment renders my whole body immobile, so I have to endure at least another ten seconds of the moaning before my legs are no longer jelly. Once I can feel my legs again, I all but fly back down the hallway.

By the time I return to my office, Vesper is gone, so I sit quietly in my rolling office chair. If I had it, I’d pull out my productivity timer. Ten minutes ought to do it. Ten minutes should be just enough time to curse myself for standing in my own fucking way. One week. That’s it. One week is all it took to push away the only man I’ve noticed in the past year of my life. There was something special about Linc, about the way I felt around him…

I blew it.

Apparently, Doctor Hartley did not.

I met her once and I genuinely liked her. Despite the fact that her business clothes were a little promiscuous, she’s professional, kind, and intelligent. Funny how quickly she’s become my least favorite person at the compound.

I rehearse the truth in my mind over and over: Linc owes me nothing. We kissed and he moved on when I basically told him we could never be.

It’s probably better this way anyway. I’m day, he’s night. I’m rules, he’s anarchy. I work with teams, he works alone. We would never make sense together. I don’t even know if we’d have the same definition of “together.”

I position my metal wastebasket by the side of my desk and casually as ever, I scoot War and Peace to the very edge, hoping gravity causes it to topple right into the trash. But it doesn’t budge.

I rub my hand all over my face and think of my dad and this damn book… How I never got to talk to him about it. I should’ve read it when I had the chance. Picking up the heavy hardback book, I decide against the wastebasket and instead, tuck it into my top drawer.

Sorry, Dad. I’ll get to it eventually, I promise.

FIFTEEN

LINC

I don’t like being summoned unless there’s someone who needs to die in a hurry. So I’m less than enthused when Callen gathers me, Lance, Cricket, and Vesper in the main meeting room, on a Friday afternoon. It’s not because it’s Friday—jobs like mine don’t get weekends. It’s because it’s motherfucking Callen, and I still hate that this prick can give me orders.

I stare across the table at Vesper’s face… But look how relaxed she looks lately. I suppose if my boss is happy, I’m happy.

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