Eleri stepped from the tiny plane and onto the hot tarmac, her emotions already in a jumble. She'd tried again to talk to Westerfield, to talk him into removing them from the case. There were so many reasons now that neither she nor Donovan should be working this.
“Sir,” she’d rebuffed his first answer, mid-flight, the phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear, indicating she was just old enough to have not been born into the cell-phone era. “I'm too attached to this case.” She could feel it. Even just being in Florida was stirring her up. It was a heady return to a time in her life when things had been fresh and new. Only now, two of the friends that she'd made then had been murdered.
She so desperately wanted to solve the case that she knew she couldn’t handle everything as rationally as she should. So, before Westerfield could say anything else, Eleri added, “Donovan needs to be removed as well.” Another pause hung between them, so she tacked on the phrase, “Family issues.”
If Donovan wanted to tell more, he could do that on his own. But a single word came back from her boss. “Family?” And tucked inside the question was all the reasoning he needed. They both knew Donovan didn't have any family.
“Exactly, sir. There may now be family to have issues with.” She'd said more than she intended, but let it fall.
Ignoring the new problem with Donovan, Westerfield had asked her, “Will you be giving the case your best?”
“Of course, sir. I was invested before it even began.” That’s exactly why I shouldn’t be on it. Even though her heart desperately wanted to be here, she was growing more aware of her own bias every minute.
“You’ll both stay on it,” he said. And then, almost too abruptly, he ended the call as though he’d either been interrupted or he was desperate to get off the line and have her stop recommending recusals.
Eleri wasn't going to get her wish. She fought the irritation that washed over her along with the hot air. She trudged toward a building as small as the plane and the tarmac. People thought large airports were better, but Eleri had learned smaller meant faster, and time sometimes meant saving lives for them.
Behind her, both GJ and Noah Kimball followed along. Eleri had considered bringing only Noah, but she'd known the man less than twenty-four hours. Though he seemed solid and dependable, those traits weren’t enough to make him into her only backup system. Though Westerfield had recommended him, her boss wasn't the most reliable source these days.
Who would have thought that GJ Janson would become the stable one? Clinging to that thought, Eleri tried to push away the memory of how Donovan had practically shoved her out of his hotel room, asked her to cover for him today, and not told her what was going on.
She only knew that she’d pulled a slip of fabric from the bottom of the box and then everything had gone to hell. The patterned piece had acted as additional padding in the box, but it seemed to be some kind of emotional time bomb going off in front of Donovan's face.
He'd first stopped dead and stared at it. She could have sworn he’d whispered, No. But she hadn’t seen his lips move and she couldn’t be sure she’d even heard it. His eyes had gone from wide and petrified to blank in a heartbeat. Then he’d stood up quickly enough that—had it been any lighter—the chair would have toppled. But he quickly told her that he would figure it out.
At least he didn't lie and say everything was fine.
Despite the drama of the contents of the box, they still had a job to do. And they knew it. If they both went AWOL to cover whatever Donovan needed, Westerfield would have their asses. Since Donovan wasn’t telling her exactly what he did need, she’d come here.
As it was, Eleri had already tipped her hand a little by asking Westerfield if Donovan could be excused from the case. Hopefully, her SAC wouldn't notice that Donovan had gone rogue today. Hopefully, he’d be back on the case tomorrow, but Eleri didn’t really know.
She watched as Noah Kimball carefully sidestepped in front of her and made a motion to follow him. Maybe he was impatient at the way she had paused or maybe he thought she didn't know where she was going. Truthfully, she was playing it by ear. When she had come to Weeki Wachee as an employee, she had traveled into town via the roads, from Sarasota through Tampa.
The tourist attraction had been far enough from school that four of them had rented a tiny apartment for the summers. She’d gone along with the cheap little stucco house with the gravel “flower bed” out front rather than admit that she had the money for something much nicer.
Shaking the memories away, she followed Agent Kimball to the rental cars. She hadn't ever flown into this tiny airport before. Clearly, Noah knew his way around, and he walked confidently toward the small patch of cars and flashed his badge at the guy sitting in the tiny booth. Eleri prayed the rental employee had air conditioning, but Noah was already turning away. Apparently, they’d quickly assigned a car and Noah was hitting the button, blinking the lights, and popping the locks.
He held out the keys then toward Eleri. “Do you want to drive?”
Though he asked the question, it was clear to Eleri that he was also offering to do it if she wanted. But she said, “I will. You should give me directions until we get there. I think I’ll remember my way around the park and the employee entrances.”
She’d said it to be clear that she wasn’t driving because of ego, or that she simply felt she should, as the senior agent. She was willing to hand responsibilities to the person best suited for them. That’s why she’d brought GJ Janson along today.
Noah was her local eyes and ears, though none of them was actually local to the Weeki Wachee area. Eleri was closest to that, but her last contact with the park had been well over a decade ago. Things often changed. In fact, she might not even know where the employee parking lot was anymore. But she was going to try.
GJ was her analyst—at least, that’s what Eleri was counting on. Having never been here before, GJ would look at everything with fresh eyes. She would not judge by Florida standards. She would count, she would catalog, and she would conclude. Eleri was praying for anything solid.
The drive was much the way Eleri remembered once she turned onto the familiar roads. She bypassed the main park entrance and took her passengers around to the back. They headed toward the hidden gate, which was taller and more aggressive than she remembered, but still in the same place. Once they were parked, she hopped out into the oppressive heat, grateful that she knew how to pack for this weather. She looked to GJ, who clearly didn’t.
At the entry gate, the guard stopped them. Gone were her days of waving an employee ID or simply being recognized as one of the mermaids. This time, she whipped out her Bureau ID. The guard’s reaction told her that, behind her, both Noah and GJ did the same.
When she was a kid, Eleri had played games of “agent” and she’d loved flashing her pretend badges. Her mother had always dismissed her, but Eleri dreamed of being able to walk up to someone and say, “FBI,” and flip that wallet open, commanding instant respect. She’d not been fully prepared for the rigors of Quantico, but the badge was everything she’d always hoped. She'd certainly become accustomed to it.
It felt good as the guard simply slid the gate open, ushering them inside. Still, he stopped them and asked politely, though it was clearly a demand, “How can I help you?”
They were next directed into a small room in a low office building that did a reasonable job of blending into the wild Florida landscape. They were offered sodas and snacks, and Eleri waited as patiently as she could. The fizz of a coke sliding down her throat helped to pass the time.
Next to her, GJ ate chips as though she were in a college lunch hall, waiting for her friends to show. Noah relentlessly tapped his fingers on the table. Eleri didn’t comment. Fifteen minutes later, the director made it into their room, having had to be fetched from the other side of the park.
“Genevieve?” The name fell from Eleri’s lips before she could stop them. She recognized that face and was shocked that the memory surfaced so clearly.
The woman frowned at her, as though trying to make the same connection.
“Eleri Eames,” she continued. “I was a mermaid here.” She rattled off the year and which section of the park Genevieve had managed at the time. Genevieve, too, had once been a mermaid, though she’d been promoted to management before Eleri had come through. This time, her eyes lit up.
“Eleri! You're an FBI agent now. Are you just visiting?”
“I wish I could say so. Unfortunately, I have a case and it leads back here.”
Genevieve tried to stop her head from visibly snapping back but didn't quite succeed.
Eleri kept her voice soft and soothing, because the information she needed to share wouldn't be. “We actually don't know if it's serious, but we’re following a tip, and we'd like your help looking into it.”
“I don’t understand.” Genevieve seemed more confused than frightened, as good a response as could be hoped for. “We run a clean system. We’re a state park.”
Eleri knew all of that, and during the time she’d worked here, she'd never seen anything that hinted of illegal activity. Conservation efforts, arguments, and letter-writing campaigns to a Congress that didn’t understand the importance of saving the Everglades were all par for the course— but never anything under the table. She tried to offer a smile. “It’s an old issue. From before you were park director.” Eleri hoped that would make the other woman more open and let her know that she wasn’t being investigated. “When I was here, there was another student doing marine research on the waterways. His name was Blake Langley.”
Once again, Genevieve was unable to disguise her reaction. “You're investigating Blake Langley?”
Eleri nodded, having noticed that beside her, Noah was paying rapt attention, and even GJ had set aside her chips and soda for a more professional demeanor. They were simply taking all of this in, filing what they saw and heard, and waiting.
“Yes.”
This time Genevieve let out a breath and sat back harshly into the metal chair. “Well, thank God someone finally is.”