The glass doors of the Early Warning program's headquarters parted with a hushed swish as Tori strode through, her footsteps echoing against the sleek marble floor. She was alone, without Javi's steady presence beside her; it was like missing a limb. Yet, the urgency thrumming in her veins propelled her forward, into the gleaming belly of the beast where answers hid behind polite smiles and corporate lingo. Javi was still trying to crack the Tally nut. Figuring out who had sent money through him to the Whitmores.
But he’d lawyered up, and time was not on their side.
"Excuse me, ma'am, do you have an appointment?" The receptionist's voice, both honeyed and rehearsed, barely registered as Tori approached the desk.
"Federal Agent," Tori said curtly, the FBI badge in her hand glinting under the lobby's bright lights. The receptionist's eyes widened just enough for Tori to notice before she nodded quickly, pressing a button beneath the counter.
"Go right up, Agent...?"
"Spark." Tori didn't wait for a response; she was already moving toward the elevator, the heavy thud of her heart setting a rhythm for her ascent.
Once there, the door to Janice Hinchcliffe's office stood ajar, revealing a sliver of opulence that seemed almost obscene. Tori pushed the door open, stepping into a room that whispered wealth from every corner. Janice sat at her mahogany desk, her focus entirely consumed by the reports scattered before her.
"Ms. Hinchcliffe?" Tori called out softly, taking in the woman's features.
She froze, staring.
She blinked as if to clear her vision, and frowned now.
The similarities were uncanny. Tori recollected the face of the first victim. It was like looking at Sarah Jennings' face through a mirror of time and power. The same sharp cheekbones, the same hawkish nose—Janice could have been her sister, or a ghost.
Tori's hand slipped into her pocket, her fingers brushing against the cool surface of her phone. With practiced subtlety, she drew it out, thumbing through the gallery until Sarah's image filled the screen. The resemblance wasn't just uncanny; it was eerie—a fact that would have been dismissed as coincidence if their current case weren't so deeply rooted in patterns and connections.
"Can I help you?" Janice's question cut through Tori's analysis, pulling her back from the digital image of the dead to the living woman who bore her face.
"Yes, I believe you can," Tori replied, locking her phone and slipping it away. Her gaze met Janice's, and she prepared herself for the dance of interrogation. Every answer was a step closer to unraveling the mystery, and Tori was determined to lead.
The soft clack of Tori's heels on the polished floor punctuated the silence that had fallen between them as she approached the desk. She cleared her throat, a subtle prelude to the questions she harbored. "Ms. Hinchcliffe, I'm sure you're aware of the recent seismic activity in San Francisco and Redding?" Her tone was deliberately light, feigning casual interest rather than the pointed probe it was.
Janice looked up from her paperwork, the sharp line of her brows knitting together in a visible display of irritation. It quickly smoothed as she forced a cordial smile, the edges of her mouth tight with the effort. "Yes, Agent...?" She let the title hang, an unspoken prompt for identification.
"Spark," Tori filled in, watching the other woman closely.
"Ah." Janice's nod was curt, a single dip of acknowledgment. Her eyes flickered back to the reports briefly before returning to Tori. Despite her attempt at politeness, the annoyance lingered like a shadow across her expression. "What is the FBI's interest in our earthquakes?"
"Routine inquiry," Tori replied, her gaze steady. This was a dance she knew well—the push and pull of give and take. "Natural disasters can sometimes... unearth unexpected issues."
"Indeed." Janice's voice held a note of defensiveness, as if personally slighted by the earth's tremors. "We've had a few minor quakes, nothing out of the ordinary for California. Though," she added, with a hint of reluctance, "we did encounter some software glitches with our sensors recently. A couple of months ago."
"Glitches?" Tori arched an eyebrow, sensing the thread she needed to follow.
"Nothing to be concerned about," Janice assured quickly, a touch too hastily for it to seem entirely genuine. "It’s all being handled by my team. The best we have are on it."
"Good to know," Tori said, her mind already cataloging this new piece of information. Every detail could be a clue, every hesitation a signpost pointing toward the truth.
"Is there anything else, Agent?" Janice asked, her tone now clipped, eager to return to her fortress of paperwork.
Tori leaned forward slightly, resting her arms on the polished mahogany of Janice's desk. "Ms. Hinchcliffe, while I have you, there are a couple of names I'm hoping you might recognize. Sarah Jennings? Jane Arnett?"
Janice's expression closed off, brows knitting together in genuine confusion. "I don't believe so. Should I?" Her hands stilled atop the reports, and she regarded Tori with keen scrutiny.
"Perhaps not," Tori replied with a gentle shake of her head, filing away the unfeigned bewilderment in Janice’s eyes. There was no flicker of recognition, no tell-tale pause that might suggest deceit. Still, Tori wasn't quite ready to discard the connection. Not yet.
"Ms. Hinchcliffe,” Tori continued cautiously, “I understand your team deals with immense volumes of sensitive data. Have there been any incidents where records could have been tampered with? Perhaps altered in some way?" It was a gamble, but Tori watched carefully for any shift in Janice's demeanor.
Janice's face flushed, her earlier composed and frazzled mix giving way to indignation. She rose abruptly from her chair, the movement sending her chair rolling back. "Are you insinuating that my people would be involved in something illicit?" Her voice had risen, sharp like the edge of a knife.
"Merely standard procedure to ask these questions, Ms. Hinchcliffe," Tori said, keeping her tone even, unthreatened by the display of fury. Her mentor had always said that anger was often a mask for fear or guilt. Which one was Janice hiding behind?
"Standard procedure?" Janice scoffed, folding her arms across her chest. "My office is committed to transparency and integrity. To even suggest—"
"Of course," Tori cut in smoothly. "I'm sorry if it came across as an accusation. It's not. But you understand, given the circumstances, we have to consider every possibility."
Janice took a deep breath, visibly working to rein in her emotions. "I suppose I do. But I assure you, Agent, you're barking up the wrong tree."
"Understood." Tori gave a curt nod, acknowledging the rebuff.
Tori leaned forward, resting her hands on the edge of Janice's desk.
"Ms. Hinchcliffe," she began, threading professionalism into each syllable, "I need the employee records. It's vital to my investigation, and time isn't a luxury we can afford."
Janice's posture relaxed marginally, the tempest in her demeanor subsiding to a wary breeze. Tori recognized the subtle shift—she had seen it often enough in witnesses teetering on the brink of compliance. Janice's fingers fidgeted with a pen, clicking it incessantly as if punctuating her internal debate. After a moment suspended in silent contemplation, she exhaled sharply and nodded.
"Fine," Janice conceded, her tone clipped but conceding. "I'll have the list sent to you." She reached for her phone, swiping through screens with an efficiency that spoke of long hours navigating digital mazes.
"Thank you," Tori replied, allowing a hint of warmth to seep into her gratitude.
"Early Warning isn't some faceless corporation," Janice continued, her voice carrying a note of pride. "We're relatively small, all things considered. A thousand employees, give or take, spread across various hubs in the state."
"That's quite the operation," Tori commented, her curiosity piqued despite her efforts to remain detached.
"Indeed. And we run a tight ship." Janice set her phone down, meeting Tori's gaze squarely now, the earlier anger replaced by something akin to weary resolve.
"Have any of your team members exhibited...unusual behavior lately?" Tori pressed, her question deliberately vague, fishing for any telltale sign of recognition or discomfort.
There was a brief flicker in Janice's eyes—a falter in the rhythm of her composed exterior—but she smoothed it over quickly, her response practiced.
"Nothing out of the ordinary. We've had our hands full with the seismic activity, but I trust my people. They're dedicated to their work."
"Of course," Tori said. She offered a nod of understanding, though her mind filed away the hesitation she'd witnessed. It wasn't much, but it was something—an oddity in the pattern.
"Thank you, Ms. Hinchcliffe. Your cooperation is invaluable." Tori stood, buttoning her jacket as she prepared to leave the office brimming with more questions than when she entered.
"Agent Spark," Janice called out just as Tori reached the door.
Tori paused, glancing back.
"Keep in mind," Janice said, her voice firm, "we're on the same side here. We all want to prevent another tragedy."
"Absolutely," Tori agreed, offering a solemn nod of shared sentiment. The same side, perhaps, but playing very different roles in the unraveling mystery.
She stood in the doorway, frowning towards the woman. Why did she look so much like Sarah Jennings? A coincidence? Seemed hardly likely.
“You’re sure you don’t know the name Sarah Jennings?”
Tori observed Janice closely, noting the split second of hesitation before the woman's lips pressed into a thin line. "No. I don’t know who that is. Does she work here?”
Tori just watched the woman.
Janice said, “As I said, we're all committed to ensuring our systems are fully operational," Janice stated with unwavering firmness. There was a steely resolve in her voice that contradicted the brief lapse Tori had caught.
"Thank you for your time and assistance, Ms. Hinchcliffe," Tori said, her tone genuine despite the churn of suspicion in her gut.
"Good luck with your investigation," Janice replied, offering a curt nod.
With that, Tori turned on her heel and strode from the office. The door closed behind her with a soft click, and she found herself alone in the quiet corridor. As she walked, the opulence of the office gave way to the sterile, nondescript walls of the headquarters' hallway.
The resemblance between Janice Hinchcliffe and Sarah Jennings lingered in Tori's mind like an afterimage. She couldn't shake the eerie similarity—the same high cheekbones, the curve of their jaws, even the way they both held themselves with a guarded poise. Tori pulled out her phone and flicked through the images she'd captured of Sarah, comparing them to the mental snapshot of Janice. The visual echo was uncanny.
Could there be a familial connection, or was it just a bizarre coincidence? Tori pondered the potential implications as she made her way down the echoing stairwell. Would someone target women who shared such specific features? Her thoughts tangled like threads in a loom, each new piece of information weaving a complex pattern she was determined to unravel.
By the time she pushed through the glass doors of the Early Warning program's headquarters, Tori's resolve was ironclad. The information Janice provided might hold the key to unlocking the mystery, and that uncanny resemblance... it felt too significant to dismiss. The image of Janice's face, so similar to the victim's, imprinted itself in Tori's memory—a clue that demanded further investigation.
She stepped out into the crisp air, the weight of urgency anchoring her every step. Each lead, each hunch, brought her one step closer to the truth, and Tori knew she couldn't afford to let any detail, no matter how small, slip through her fingers.
Tori's heels clicked against the asphalt, a staccato rhythm that matched the quickening beat of her heart as she approached her unmarked FBI sedan. She fished the keys from the depth of her coat pocket, the brisk air nipping at any exposed skin with an October chill.
The moment her hand wrapped around the door handle, the shrill ping of an incoming text message cut through the silence. Tori paused, drew out her phone, and swiped across the screen. It was Javi.
"Interrogation's done. Tally's saying nothing," the message read.
Tori tapped out a quick response, promising to regroup shortly and share the details from her visit to Janice Hinchcliffe.
Another buzz on her phone. The employee list from Hinchcliffe’s office.
She clicked the list, scanning through the many names staring back at her. Nearly a thousand employees… all of them with a connection to Janice. All of them with a potential grudge. Many of them would’ve had access to alter seismic reports.
Tori clicked her tongue in frustration, and again, she reminded herself… Time was not on her side.