Page 38 of No Escape

He continued, his voice passionate and earnest. “As you’re most likely aware, a serial killer named John Murphy is on the loose, and the press is incorrectly reporting that Valerie is somehow involved.”

Heinlein scoffed, his voice full of contempt. “This is exactly the sort of thing I’d expect from Valerie Law! She’s always been a loose cannon!”

Jackson shook his head, refusing to let Heinlein’s words go unchallenged. “No, Director. Valerie is the best agent we have. She’s sacrificed both her personal life and her mental health for the Bureau, and she’s put herself in harm’s way more times than I can count.”

He stared pointedly at Heinlein, his voice accusatory. “A large part of that sacrifice is due to the personal vendetta you have against me, Director Heinlein. You’ve used Valerie as a pawn in your power games, and now she’s in danger because of it. She deserves our support, not our scorn.”

A director in her sixties with her hair in a bun, sitting at the large briefing table, raised an eyebrow. “That’s a pretty severe accusation, Agent Weller.”

Heinlein scoffed, dismissing Jackson’s claim. “It’s nonsense.”

Jackson held his ground, his voice firm. “No, it’s the truth. Let me explain. Thirty years ago, Director Heinlein and I were partners. We were involved in a case where a woman named Julia Green was held hostage by a drug smuggler named Mack Diamond. The trouble was, the smuggler was also holding Julia’s children at gunpoint.”

Heinlein’s face paled, his voice strained. “Jackson, don’t do this. Don’t talk about that case.”

But Jackson continued, his voice resolute. “I made a judgment call. I rushed the smuggler and managed to get the kids to safety. But Julia Green was shot and died.”

He turned to face Heinlein directly. “It was only then that I learned that Julia had been an informant, and that you, Arthur, had fallen in love with her.” Jackson’s voice broke with emotion. “I’m so sorry for what happened. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t play that night through my head, hoping each time that somehow I get to Julia before the gun goes off.”

Arthur sat down, looking at the ground, his face pained.

Jackson took a deep breath, then said, “Despite this, it doesn’t excuse Director Heinlein’s campaign to shut down a perfectly good unit, especially not when he ordered agents to pull apart Valerie Law’s personal life to find some excuse to fire her from the Bureau. This isn’t just about me or some decades-old tragedy. This is about justice and the lives we’ve sworn to protect.”

The female director nodded thoughtfully, but her tone remained firm. “Valerie Law’s mental health issues preclude her from operating as an agent. It’s likely that regardless of what happens to the CPU, she will be relieved of duty, permanently. It would be best for her and all of us if she gave herself up.”

Jackson knew she wouldn’t do that. Not if it meant letting John Murphy run free. Valerie was tenacious like no one he’d ever known.

He sighed, understanding the situation but still holding onto hope. “I understand that, though I hope you will reconsider. The time for that discussion is not at hand. What is at hand is the fact that Valerie is still with the Bureau, and she’s trying to track this killer down, not assist him.” Jackson slammed his hand down on the table, his voice rising in intensity. “She needs our help!”

Murmurs rippled through the room as the directors exchanged glances. Another director, a man with red hair, spoke up. “Even if we could, how can we help her, Agent Weller?”

Jackson took a deep breath, outlining their needs. “Her colleagues, Special Agent Charlie Carlson and Dr. Will Cooper, are assisting police with their investigations. But they have been locked out of the FBI database due to the witch hunt into our unit. They need access to that information again. It will help them find Valerie and bring John Murphy to justice.”

The room fell silent as the directors weighed the situation. The tension in the room was heavy. Jackson held his breath, hoping that his impassioned plea would sway their decision and provide the help his team desperately needed.

Jackson scanned the faces of his colleagues, noting their uncertainty. Desperation clawed at him, pushing him to make one last offer. “If you allow the unit to operate until John Murphy is caught, and it doesn’t work out, I will take full responsibility and resign from the FBI for good.”

The room was silent for a moment, the weight of Jackson’s words hanging in the air. Director Heinlein looked up, his eyes meeting Jackson’s with a steely glare. It was a stare that he had used a thousand times over to dominate and intimidate. But this time, he had met his match.

Jackson did not blink.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

The rain began to fall as Valerie and Suzie parked their truck around the corner from Joshua Murphy’s home. Large droplets splattered against the windshield, as if nature were trying to blur the line between reality and nightmare.

The world outside the truck seemed to dissolve, the edges of everything blending together in a watery haze. It was the kind of rain that drenched everything it touched and turned the night into a murky, indistinct dreamscape.

Valerie watched the rain for a moment, her face a careful mask of stoicism. “The rain’s good,” she said, her voice a low murmur. “The sound might help mask our attempts to sneak into Joshua’s home.”

Suzie, however, seemed lost in her own thoughts. Her face was pale and drawn, her eyes wide and haunted. She stared out at the rain as if it held answers to the questions that plagued her.

“What’s wrong?” Valerie asked, her concern for her sister evident in her tone.

Suzie’s voice trembled as she spoke. “I’ve been thinking about the orderlies we found dead at Shady Pines. I’ve never seen a dead body before, and it keeps flashing in my mind.”

Valerie reached out and gently squeezed her sister’s hand. “I know it’s hard, Suzie. But if you use that trauma to motivate you, you can achieve wonders. We can’t let John Murphy continue hurting people.”

Suzie’s eyes met her sister’s, searching for reassurance. “How many dead bodies have you seen, Val?”

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