She’d let him in—as much as Claire let anyone in—and Jake hadn’t taken that lightly. That’s why this was so difficult. Seeing her like this now … it was as if with a push of a button, that girl he’d known had been erased.
The parallels to Jake’s mother were eerily similar.
She too was someone he couldn’t hold on to no matter how hard he tried. Every time he reached for her in the abyss behind her eyes, she slipped further away. Jake was tired of watching the people he loved disappear right in front of him. His mother, Ramirez, countless others he’d served alongside … he couldn’t bear to lose Claire, too.
For a while longer he watched Claire. The steady rise and fall of her breathing tried to fool him into thinking she was just sleeping. But her eyes remained wide open—staring at him and at nothing all at once.
Standing, Jake walked over to the bed. He rested his hand on Claire’s shoulder, expecting the flinch that normally came from unsolicited contact, but she remained completely still. If she was still in there, she was buried deep.
He suddenly wished he knew more about her—her family, childhood, fears—anything to help him reach her. Jake knew the basics: only child, grew up on the west coast, estranged from her parents. In many ways, Claire and Dana had been cut from the same cloth. Both genius outsiders, trying to shine light into the darkness to make up for the lonely hand life had dealt them.
Neither woman liked talking about their pasts. But Jake couldn’t fault them. He preferred to keep the past where it belonged, too. Speaking of, Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. It was time to make the call he’d been putting off.
Before he left the room, he gave Claire’s shoulder one last squeeze. “I know you’re still in there, Elvira. I’m not going anywhere, so you find your way back here, and we’ll figure this out together.”
76
Dana glancedin her rearview the entire drive to the FBI forensic lab. She trusted Jake not to follow, but the media was a different story. The increase in Reaper hysteria had returned the news vans to her street. When she’d walked to her car, a reporter from one of the networks tried to approach.
“What can you tell us about the D.C. Reaper case being turned over to the FBI? Have you and Agent Shepard been assigned?”
She’d muttered “no comment” and hurried to her car. Halfway to the lab she thought she spotted the same news van from her street behind her, but she was being paranoid. News was big business in D.C. and most networks had multiple vans.
Still, she heard Jake’s voice in her mind.Stay on the hunt or become the prey.
Dana had been there too many times. She may have chosen this path, but she was determined to do things differently, and that meant learning from her mistakes.
She turned onto 8thStreet, showed her ID to the guard manning the gate, and pulled into the safety of the FBI’s forensic lab lot. She turned off the car and sat there for a moment, watching the traffic roll by on the other side of the fence.Nothing suspicious, but she’d promised Jake she’d be careful, and she planned to do everything in her power to hold up her end of the bargain.
She called Hartwell from her car to let him know she’d arrived.
“Great. Meet me in the lobby. I’ll walk you back,” he said.
Inside, Dana took in the familiar beige walls and black chairs. The waiting room looked even more worn in the watery morning light filtering in through the glass doors. The reception area was still unmanned, but Hartwell pushed through the metal door, his arrival announced by the loud buzz of the lock disengaging. “Follow me,” he said, waving her through. “Let’s walk and talk.”
Dana followed Hartwell down the chilly hallway, listening intently as he caught her up on the case. “SSA Richter’s the Unit Chief in charge. He’s seasoned, knows his way around cases like this, but isn’t all that happy to have been dragged down here from Quantico.”
“I thought you said they requested a joint effort?”
Hartwell nodded. “They did, but since the murders are local, they preferred to conduct the investigation on their own turf. Only thing that got them here was the crime scenes and you.”
“Me? I can work anywhere,” she objected.
“Let’s not mention that,” Hartwell warned. “I don’t want to add commuting to Quantico to my day. Besides, Shepard would blow a gasket if I sent you to Quantico.”
“Agent Shepard doesn’t dictate where I work.”
Hartwell raised his eyebrows. “Does he know that?”
Dana ignored the rhetorical question.
“He does know you’re working this case, right?” Hartwell pressed.
“Yes.”
Hartwell grunted, shaking his head. “I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.”
“Why?”