Page 52 of Fearless
“But we’re supposed to escort her to…”
“And I’ll be the one that takes her,” Simms replies coolly. He faces me and gives me a look of pity. “I apologize for his behavior. Regardless of what people may think about your father,” he says and then lowers his voice, “and mother, no one should be blamed for the sins of their parents.”
My eyes widen momentarily when he mentions my mother, but I quickly school my features. “I am but an acorn that didn’t fall far from the tree,” I reply. “It doesn’t seem to matter that my parents have dedicated their whole lives to the Bureau, this country, and the American people. They will be branded as traitors unless I can help prove their innocence. If the only way Ican do that is to answer your questions, then so be it.” I gesture to the open space in front of me. “Lead the way!”
Simms and I stare at one another in the interrogation room, and the silence begins to become deafening. I’ll hold out as long as he will, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a little apprehensive about what’s to come. The entire building appeared dilapidated from the outside, but the inside was repurposed into an FBI field office—a secret field office. And from the looks of it, it’s been here for quite some time.
After an hour, Monroe joins us. He shuts off the camera in the corner and pulls the shade down over the one-way mirror. “We’re clear, but there isn’t much time,” he says, placing a bottle of water in front of me.
“Much time for what? I’ve got all the time in the world since I’m at your mercy.”
“To explain,” Simms says.
“Explain what?” I ask. “Are you going to tell me why I clearly heard you communicating with another team last night, but Agent Smith informed me that the two of you were working alone?”
Monroe sighs. “Smith and Jones are like those people who see a meme or a fake article and assume it’s the truth. They’re quick to spread the news with the notion they’re doing the right thing. Instead, they’re spreading misinformation or facts taken out of context.”
Simms adds, “They are repeating what they’ve heard, notwhat they know, Harper. We had a team out there last night, and they were nearly killed because of the seed that Thomas Hogan planted. We suspected it was a trap, and we were there to confirm it.”
I lean back in my chair, crossing my legs and holding my elbows. As far as body language is concerned, I can’t scream “closed off” any louder. “Are you blaming Shining Knight and me for the botched operation? It was never our intention to send you in the first place. If we had known, we wouldn’t have asked you to take our place.”
Simms raises his hands in surrender. “That is not our intention at all. I’m informing you that wedidhave a team out there, but not every agent is kept in the loop. Operational security exists for a reason.”
Fair enough. “How did Thomas Hogan die? Can you tell me that?”
“Suicide,” Simms replies. I open my mouth to ask another question, but he holds up a finger. “Before you ask if I’m sure, the answer is ‘Yes.’ There was a camera in his office and footage of him taking his own life, as well as a handwritten note on his desk with six simple words written down. It said, ‘I had no idea. I’m sorry.’”
“Who was he apologizing to?” I ask, confused.
“Your guess is as good as ours. Was he apologizing because the boat was lost and he failed in the task he was given, having no idea that there would be a loss of lives? Is he apologizing to the world because he found out he was a pawn in a nuclear terrorist plot? Or is he apologizing to the boat crew because he thought he was telling them the truth and thought there was going to bea drop? I doubt we’ll ever know the answer.”
Monroe slides a folder across the table. “Here’s everything we do know so far.”
I eye the folder like it’s a snake about to bite me, but then curiosity gets the better of me. I reach for the file and open it, scooting my chair in to get a closer look. I flip through pages of documents that I recognize from when Jerry hacked my father’s computer. “How did you get these?”
“It’s not as difficult as you might think. Although I’ll admit, Jerry was very good at covering his tracks when he hacked into Finnegan’s computer.”
My mouth hangs open in shock. Not knowing how to respond, I continue to flip through pictures taken at long range. The first is of a man handing Sergio Alvarez a briefcase. The second is the same man with a group of roughly twenty people in soiled clothing. The last picture guts me. The Demon Kings are huddled together, and in the background is a man I’ve respected my whole life, wearing a smug expression. I tear up and choke out, “When did you take these?”
“As far back as a month ago. The picture with Sergio Alvarez was taken two hours ago,” Simms says, disappointment lacing his tone.
Monroe reaches across the table and gives my hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Harper. None of us wanted it to be true.”
Feeling anger, hurt, and betrayal, I slam the file closed. “Why are you telling me all of this? Why now?”
Simms grimaces. “Because we need an admission, and you’re the only one who can get it.”
Chapter twenty-eight
Roger
It’s not until early this morning that Jerry sends us the information I requested, which is why much of last night was spent celebrating with Carter over his new parenthood status. We had a few moments of reprieve and enjoyed every second of it. Once the celebration died down, we also went over every detail of the case as we know it. It was wishful thinking, but we didn’t come up with anything noteworthy or new.
The team is gathered around the dining room table, looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when I walk in. I yawn and head straight for the coffee pot, which thankfully has a full carafe of freshly-brewed coffee. “Has anyone heard from Savannah yet? She was supposed to interview Carlos yesterday.”
Jaxon walks past me and grabs two mugs from the cabinet. He slides one over to me. “Carlos’ little brother had something similar to a seizure yesterday and was rushed to the hospital. Dr. Blackstone performed an emergency surgery for Bogart’scardiac arrhythmia and had to implant a pediatric pacemaker. From what Savannah told us, it was pretty bad.”
“Who’s Bogart?” I ask.
