Page 13 of Shadow of the Moon

It was a hard pill to swallow, being so publicly in the wrong. It was why Brown had put her on the cold cases. If he could get movement on dead files, it would prove that he was the man for the job. Personally, Amberly thought he was trying too hard to fill Hatchett’s shoes. The old guy had been there for ten years and had several epic cases under his belt when he retired. Brown was trying to take a fast-track career path and make a splash.

“I really do think we’re on our own,” she said eventually. “As much as I would like to have backup going in to this situation, I don’t know that I trust anyone enough to call them. I might call Frank at some point, but everyone else is out for themselves.”

Devlin nodded again. “Agreed. If you’re digging into dirty agents at the CIA, everyone will be on the defensive. You know that.”

“Agreed,” she sighed, eyeing him thoughtfully. “Plus, I have to work through the original investigation of how he escaped.”

Devlin lifted his brows at that, then slowly shook his head. “I’m sure that’ll be a page turner. I’d like to read that file myself.”

She turned to look at him. “Why? So you can see all the devastation you left in the wake of your attempted hit? How do you live with yourself, Devlin? How do you live with betraying your team?”

Devlin blinked at her, and his jaw flexed. It looked like he was biting back words, but she didn’t care. His actions had driven them apart, and they were still dealing with the fallout. He was supposed to have escorted Regent only, not taken a shot at him. This sniper veteran who had over a hundred confirmed kills as a SEAL had suddenly decided to turn dirty, on this particular target.

The only reason why that would have happened was if he was paid off. And it had to have been huge.

“I’d like to look at your file, all the same,” he gritted out, fury burning in his narrowed eyes.

He’s always hated being told when he was wrong, and this was no different.

Amberly pulled her laptop bag forward and retrieved the thick Regent file from the side pocket. These days, most of their records were digital, but the CIA insisted on having a concrete copy as well. Which meant she didn’t even have to open her laptop and risk being found to research what had gone on from the time he’d hit their radar to now. It was all here. She flipped the folder open and started at the beginning.

By the time they got about halfway through Iowa, she was ready to do something else. While Devlin drove, she’d researched. The one time she’d looked up, the cornfields had lulled her into sleep. Or maybe it had been the pain in her arm. Whatever. She’d owned it and reclined the seat to sleep better.

They got sandwiches and filled up at a big gas station. “I want to drive for a while,” she told Devlin, and without a word, he handed over the keys.

Within minutes, he was reaching for the file folder. “May I?”

Everything in her rebelled at allowing him access to the top secret information, but she had to do something. And she had to trust someone.

Her stomach twisted at the thought of him betraying her again, but she forced herself to breathe through it. She gave him a nod.

Devlin read quietly for a long time, quietly pulling a pair of reading glasses from somewhere. Occasionally he chuckled or hummed under his breath. Then he hit the center section and began to ask her questions.

“Why would they plan it this way,” he asked, then turned to wait for the answer. She answered half a dozen questions for him before he reached the end of the folder. “Seriously? That’s it? There’s nothing in there about…” he paused and shook his head, tossing the file onto the backseat.

“Don’t mess it up,” she snapped.

Devlin went quiet, staring out the window. He didn’t say anything to her for a long time, so she turned on the radio. Tucking her sore arm against her side, she focused on driving. Traffic wasn’t bad and she found a Mustang cruising along at almost ninety. That would have suited her fine, but as soon as she slipped in behind him, he slowed down, thinking she was an unmarked law enforcement vehicle. “Damn it,” she huffed, swinging around him. She would just have to set her own speed, she supposed. With a throaty rumble, the Charger took off when she pressed the gas.

“Don’t get a ticket,” Devlin said, giving her a sideways glance.

Amberly snorted. “Right…”

Devlin retrieved the package of pictures and started sorting through them. “Your dead guy wasn’t much of a photographer.”

“No, he wasn’t, but he tried. And what he photographed seemed important to him, so we have to figure it out.”

Devlin pulled one from the stack. “This is the school we’re going to?”

“Yes,” she said, flicking a glance at his hand. “It’s the only William Taft Elementary in a five hundred mile radius from him.”

“Do you think this girl goes there?” He held up the picture of the child.

That one haunted Amberly. The girl must be a target, but she couldn’t say why exactly. Maybe she was the daughter of someone Cole wanted to pressure. Necco had deemed her important, and they needed to figure out why. Dressed in a plain blue T-shirt and blue jeans, the kid seemed normal, her dark blond hair drawn back into a ponytail. She wasn’t smiling, though. It was like someone told her to stand against the wall, and she didn’t like the person, because there was a distasteful expression on her face. “I don’t know,” she said eventually. “I do know she’s a focus of Cole’s, either a target’s daughter or relative, maybe? Someone he can use to leverage?”

“Hm…”

There were a few pictures of a brick building, but there were no identifying marks that she could see. It looked like a million other brick buildings across the country.

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