WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 17
Chandler returned to his seat behind the wheel and watched Jaime head into the building.
She was undoubtedly the bravest woman he knew, and the fact that she had prayed at all made him grateful. It was a conversation they needed to finish, but he felt a release to pursue her that he hadn’t had before.
What would it be like to explore a future with the engaging and enigmatic Jaime Nichols? There would be challenges . . . there had to be, given her pain-filled past . . . but he had no doubt she was worth it.
His phone rang and he dug through the trash on the dash until he located it. “Bolton.”
“Chandler, this is Allison. We need you here at the office immediately. There’s an emergency.”
“What kind?”
She sighed, but he heard a thread of fear. “A bird flew into the office, and he wants to hurt us.”
He stiffened. That was the code phrase for we need help immediately, developed after such a situation had literally occurred. It had taken a butterfly net and some creativity to safely escort that bird back outside. Fortunately, they had a plan in place for two-legged “birds” as well.
“I’ll be there as soon as I grab my net.”
The moment the call disconnected, Chandler dialed the military police at the Pentagon and then 911. They would cycle up to help, but he needed to get there too. He quickly shot a text to Jaime. Called to work. Text when you need me. I’ll be in Clarendon.
He hit Send and then pulled his truck from the curb and drove the mile to the office. Should he make his presence known or await reinforcements? They couldn’t be far behind.
The curtains were drawn over the front windows. That was a terrible sign, and battle alertness coursed into his system. The curtains were always open when someone was in the building to allow line of sight even if the glass was bullet-proof.
He parked a block away and was hurrying toward the building when a police vehicle screeched to a halt on the other side of the street. The officer exited and waved him back. “Sir, you can’t be here. We have an emergency situation.”
“I’m the one who called 911.”
“All right.” The officer spoke into his radio. “What can you tell me?”
“Only that one of my staff called utilizing our emergency protocol. Also the curtains shouldn’t be drawn. They’re always left open.”
Another police vehicle arrived, followed by one with the Pentagon’s police logo on the door. A woman hopped out of the passenger door and hurried toward them. “What’s the status?”
Chandler slipped into military mode. “Unknown. I got a call from a colleague inside. She used the emergency phrase to launch our emergency procedures. I was in the courthouse area, so I called you and 911 and then proceeded here. I arrived approximately five minutes ago. Long enough to park and meet this officer.”
The woman turned to the uniformed police officer. “I’m Agent Michelle Weldon with the Pentagon Police.”
“Chuck Nollan, Arlington Police.”
“How do you want to handle this?”
“You can take point since it’s your building.”
She nodded and turned back to Chandler. “What’s the layout?”
“Open floor plan in the entryway. Leads first to a cubicle space, then there’s a hallway with a series of small offices and conference rooms. More on the second floor.”
“Okay. Any security feeds?”
“Yes, should feed to your office.”
She turned to the man who had come with her. “Check on that. We need to see what’s happening inside.”
Time ticked by with more police arriving but no answers. Chandler paced as the pressure built. Something was happening, but he didn’t know if it was a hostage situation or something different. “Can I call Allison? See what’s happening?”
Agent Weldon considered and then nodded. “Let’s try.”
He quickly pulled up the number and then waited while it dialed.
Finally she answered. “Hello?”
“Allison, you okay?”
“He wants you to come inside.” Her voice shook.
“All right. Who is it?”
“He says you’ll know.”
He froze as he considered. “Must be my mystery caller.”
“Maybe.”
“All right. I’ll come in the back door.”
“That’s a good idea. The front is bad.” There was the sound like a slap, and she groaned.
“Hold on, I’m coming.” He hung up and turned to the others. “Anyone have a bulletproof vest?”
“You’re not going inside.” Agent Weldon jutted her jaw, but it did little to change Chandler’s mind.
“My team is there, getting slapped around for telling me not to use the front door. My guess is there’s an explosive or something on it, so proceed with caution. I’ll use the back.” He took off his coat and slipped on the vest Officer Nollan handed him. Then he slid a comms unit into his ear, and chatter filled his head. “I’ll let you know what’s happening in there.”
Before the feisty detective could say anything else, he took off for the back door. This team wouldn’t be lost if he could help it.
When the elevators opened for the PD’s floor, Jaime tried to march in like she belonged, but her key card didn’t unlock the door. The floor dropped from her stomach. Had Grant revoked her access?
Maybe it was going to take more than a letter from the ethics commission to clear her indefinite leave.
She was standing at the door digging her cell phone from her purse when Evan Reagan walked up.
“Good morning, Evan.”
“Hmm. Can’t get in?”
“I must have done something to my keycard. I’ll just follow you in and get it cleared up.”
He looked at her, something like pity filling his eyes. “You don’t understand what’s happening.”
“Then fill me in. Please.”
“You’re done. Someone’s pressuring Grant and he can’t budge. Keeps saying it’s out of his hands.”
“Who’s doing this?” She didn’t mention the conversation she’d overheard.
He grunted and slapped his card against the reader. “No one can figure it out. But we all know you should be back here.”
“Thanks.” She preceded him into the reception area and then walked to her small-as-a-closet office. It no longer felt like coming home.
Evan stopped when he reached her door. “Grant’ll be a little late this morning. A breakfast meeting of some sort.”
“I’m sure I’ve got plenty to do while I wait.” Email had piled up while she was gone, and it took more than an hour to read and deal with each. She was turning to the stack of files on the corner of her desk when her phone intercom beeped to life.
“Miss Nichols, Grant wants to see you.”
“When?”
“Right now.”
Miss Nichols? Since when did Grant’s paralegal call her that? She didn’t like the signal that sent. “I’ll be right there.”
Her cell phone rang, and she glanced at the screen. Savannah? Really? She took the call.
Savannah didn’t even wait for her to say anything. “The police need to interview Tiffany and prepare her for the grand jury testimony.”
“She’ll need Aslan for that.”
“Exactly. I need you to spend more time with her so you can explain to the judge why Aslan is needed as a comfort dog. I’d also like you to sit in on the interview.”
“I don’t know that I can do all of that.”
“Why not?”
“I’m at the PD’s office and need to go meet with Grant.”
“All right. Do that, but make Tiffany your next priority.”
“I’ll get something arranged.”
“Good. Then come here around two, and we’ll prepare for your testimony.”
“Mine?”
“The congressional hearing.”
Oh. That. “It’s not until next Tuesday.”
“True, but soon your presence will be required at work. We need to be ready when the PD office calls. Consider this getting ahead.”
As she hung up, her office intercom buzzed again. “He’s getting impatient.”
“Coming.” If only Jaime could shake the feeling she was walking toward the death of her career.