Page 5 of Code Name: Admiral

“Does the report say how it was administered?”

“Intramuscularly.”

“So it could’ve been against her will.” The words came out barely above a whisper.

Tank nodded, his silence more damning than any verbal response could be.

“Which means the bastard stuck around long enough to make sure she couldn’t get help.”

“Most likely,” Tank muttered.

I stood, knocking my chair over, and left the room. The walls were closing in, and I needed air.

“Hold up,” said Tank, following me to the nearest exit and outside. The bitter winter wind bit through my suit jacket, but I welcomed the sting.

“I swear to God, if Bobby was in front of me, I’d kill him with my bare hands.” The words came out in white puffs of steam.

“I know you would,” he said while I paced in front of him.

“I don’t get it, you know? I grew up with the guy. It wasn’t like he had a mean streak.”

“Drugs will do it to anyone.”

“He killed her.”

Tank nodded again. “Allegedly.”

I stopped and put my hands on my hips, trying to control the rage building inside me. “We need to find something—anything—that proves he did it.”

“I’m with you, Admiral.” He motioned to the door we’d come out of. “What do you say we head back inside and get to work before one or both of us freezes to death?”

“Give me a minute.”

He stuck his hands in his pockets but, otherwise, didn’t move.

“You go ahead.”

His eyes met mine. “I’ll wait.”

Tank was one of the exceptions when it came to keeping my friends and work separate. I’d known him a damned long time before I suggested bringing him and another guy I’d worked a serial killer investigation with into the bureau on a contract basis. He’d seen me through some dark times, and I knew he wouldn’t leave me alone out here, even if I ordered him to.

“Come on, asshole,” I said, pulling the door open. “By the way, where’s Blackjack today?” I asked, realizing I hadn’t seen him at the briefing.

“Pounding the pavement, looking for more security footage.”

Once inside, I returned to my office and Tank went to his, another thing I appreciated about the guy. I didn’t need him to hold my damn hand, but I had needed him to listen.

I logged into my computer a second time, but rather than opening the brief or the footage I’d intended to look at, I brought up a family photo that had been taken years ago. Back when I was a skinny nerd of a kid and Bobby was a football star. Looking at it now broke my heart. I could only imagine how my aunt and uncle must feel. How different would his life have been if not for the injury that not only ruined his prospects for an NFL careerbut had forced him to drop out of college, then resulted in an addiction to the painkillers he’d been prescribed?

None of that was reason for him to turn to a life of crime by aligning himself with a Mafia organization, nor was it cause for him to murder an innocent, young woman. The choices he’d made were his own, and now, we’d all have to live with the consequences.

Rather than look at footage I’d already seen, I went back several days to see if there were any other instances of Bobby being at Sarah’s apartment. Before I found any, I paused on footage of her with another woman who matched the description of her sister, Alice. Zooming in to study her, my breath caught. It wasn’t that she was beautiful in what I considered the traditional sense—hell, there wasn’t a single thing about her appearance or attire that could be called traditional—but something about her spoke to me. It felt more like a siren’s call, an enticing appeal of someone alluring but potentially bad news.

I continued watching, picking up on the way she repeatedly tucked her Titian hair that was woven with pink streaks behind her ear as her eyes darted about. My guess was she didn’t miss a thing. Not someone passing her who paid more attention than they should or a noise that stood out from the typical thrum of a busy city street. There was an awareness about her that spoke of someone who’d learned to watch their back.

I reopened the brief on Sarah Gordon. She was five years older than her only sibling, the woman whose image I’d paused on my screen, whose height, weight, and other physical attributes matched those in the dossier. I couldn’t tell from the video, but according to the report, Sarah’s eyes were green. Were Alice’s too? The thought shouldn’t have intrigued me as much as it did.

Digging deeper, I found a reference indicating that, while there was little proof, she was believed to be the hacker somein the media referred to as the “Zero Day Robin Hood” since she was known to discover and exploit tech vulnerabilities days before the developers even knew they existed. Which is what the term “zero day” referenced. A vigilante with a keyboard—just what anyone in law enforcement dreamed of. I shook my head at the sarcastic thought.

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