Page 22 of Code Name: Admiral

“Atticus,” he responded without hesitation. He stuck his head out the window. “She could’ve gone endless directions from here.”

Based solely on my experience with her earlier in the day, I agreed. She’d admitted to mapping out more than one escape route from a building she appeared to know every nook and cranny of. The realization that she’d probably planned this from the moment she let me in nearly leveled me.

“Pull every piece of surveillance, security, and CCTV footage you can find.”

“Already on it,” Tank responded. His fingers flew across his tablet, coordinating with our tech team.

“What about these?” I asked, motioning to her multiple monitors and computers. The screens still held a faint warmth, mocking me with their blank faces.

“Unresponsive,” said Blackjack. “Dead to our world anyway.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “She knew exactly what she was doing. Military-grade wipe, if I had to guess.”

Which meant even the best of our tech team wouldn’t be able to power them up, and even if by some miracle they were successful, I had no doubt he was right; they’d be blank bricks. The thought of how methodically she’d planned this made my chest ache.

I raised my head when Grit walked in the door of the apartment, then glared at Tank for not alerting me he’d arrived. The old floorboards creaked under my boss’ heavy tread, a sound that seemed to emphasize the emptiness of the space.

“Don’t blame him,” my boss said, walking over and squeezing my shoulder. His grip was firm, grounding. I hated how easily the man could read me after only months of working together.

I was sure he already suspected I’d developed feelings for Alice Gordon, sister of the victim whose death I was supposed to be investigating. The knowledge sat like lead in my gut. Instead, I’d taken an unauthorized path, turning the assignment into one where my main objective was keeping Alice alive.

“Tell me what happened,” he said, motioning to one of two chairs positioned near the computers. The leather creaked as we sat, another sound that seemed too loud in the tense atmosphere.

My recounting began when I exited my apartment this morning and ended with my discovery of the empty bathroom. Rather than try to conceal the connection Alice and I had made while in her sister’s apartment, I didn’t leave out a single detail. My voice remained steady, professional, even as each word felt like it was being dragged across broken glass.

“She’ll try to lure Bobby Kane out,” said Grit. His eyes, sharp as ever, studied my face as he spoke.

I nodded. “She plans to kill him.”

Grit leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I fear she won’t stop there.” His weathered face showed the same concern I felt gnawing at my insides.

“Unless they take her out first.” My stomach, along with every other muscle in my body, clenched. The image of Alice lying broken and bloody flashed unbidden through my mind.

“The inurnment of Sarah’s ashes is scheduled two days from now at fifteen hundred hours,” said Tank, looking at his mobile.

“Where?” Grit asked.

“Saint Ambrose Cemetery. It’s between East 47th and 48th, near Lexington.” Tank’s finger traced something on his screen. “Security’s minimal. It’s an old place.”

“It’s where Sarah and Alice’s parents were inurned,” said Blackjack, also reading something on his phone. “Died in a car crash six years ago. Alice was the one who arranged everything.”

I’d known when they’d died, but that Alice had made the arrangements rather than Sarah, who was older by five years, surprised me. I was quickly learning that nothing should when it came to Alice Gordon.

While I could hear every word being spoken, my mind kept returning to what Tank had said. Two days from now.Two days.The numbers echoed in my head like a countdown. Even if we searched every square foot of the city—something that would be impossible even with a team numbering in the hundreds—I knew deep inside that we wouldn’t find Alice until she was ready to surface. She was too good, too prepared, too driven by grief and rage to slip up now. My next question was how in the hell I’d be able to function until then. The weight of failure—both professional and personal—settled over me like a shroud.

“Take a walk with me.” Grit’s words left no room for argument.

I stood, looking around the apartment, searching for some reason I could say no. I saw nothing. We were on the elevator before either of us spoke again.

“Thermite, huh?” he said, shaking his head.

“I’d say it’s a miracle the whole building didn’t implode, but I know better.Sheknows better.”

“I’m going to make a suggestion?—”

“No.”

Grit raised a brow.

“If you want me off this case, you’ll have to fire me.”

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