I’m sorry.” His words had barely reached Brie’s ears, when the gun swung up under his chin and exploded. Blood and white matter sprayed all over the ceiling. His body, already lifeless, fell back on the table with a dull thud.
She sank to her knees. A scream lodged in her throat. Air trapped in her lungs. Tears filled her eyes.
She heard the loud crack of the door being swung open and slammed against the wall. Heard voices demanding, ordering. But the words were lost to her, she couldn’t look away from Agent Calvin’s body splayed out on the table.
Someone knelt beside her. Her gun was pulled from her hand.
More voices surrounded her. “Her gun hasn’t been fired. He shot himself.” Words echoed all around her.
“Brie.” Her name rang out above the noise. Someone had her hands in theirs. “Come on. I got you.” The words murmured in her ear: deep, soft, caring. Her mind and heart rejected the tenderness. She’d just seen a man violently blow his head off.
She studied the person talking. Connor.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said.
She shot to her feet. When he moved in closer, she waved him off. “Stop!”
He motioned her toward the door. “Come on.”
She looked back at Agent Calvin, his eyes still open. The top of his head was gone. She closed her eyes and covered her mouth as a sad sound leaked from her lips.
Connor’s arm came around her shoulder. She let him guide her out. He moved her into the hall, where a crowd of police officials gathered.
“Move back,” Connor ordered and an opening appeared. He moved her across the hall to another door and gently nudged her inside.
He pulled a chair out and turned it away from the table.
“Sit down.”
She felt her hands, her knees, her heart trembling. “I’m okay.”
“Please sit down.”
She dropped into the seat. He pulled another chair over and sat down, facing her.
Meeting his eyes, she said, “He shot himself.”
“I know.”
He sat there, silent, just looking at her for several minutes. “I saw a phone in the baggie. Is that Pablo’s phone? Did it come in the mail?”
“No. It’s an old phone of mine. I…I realized he wouldn’t know about the phone unless…unless he was behind everything. So I wanted to see how he’d react.” She had to swallow to keep her voice from shaking. “He asked if it was Pablo’s phone.”
“Did he admit to hiring Omen?”
She nodded. “They had his daughter.” Calvin would still be alive if she hadn’t gone in there. Guilt started to build until she remembered Carlos and Pablo. She pushed it back down, but it didn’t stop it from hurting.
“His daughter?” Connor asked.
She took in a deep breath. “I left you a message.”
He frowned. “We were bringing in Bara.” He reached for her hands. But she was afraid his touch or any sort of empathy would bring her to tears. She pulled them back.
He acknowledged her withdrawal and dropped his hands in his lap. “Do you need something to drink?”
“No. And please stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Coddling me.” Her throat tightened.
“I’m not—”
“Can you…I want to be alone. Please! I need a little time.”
He walked out. Brie pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging her calves. She closed her eyes, but when her mind replayed the shooting, she forced them back open.
Less than thirty minutes later, the door opened. She expected it to be Connor. It wasn’t.
Eliot walked in. Brie stood up, and he pulled her against him.
Her throat tightened; her eyes stung. She clung to him for a few seconds, before drawing back. “I’m okay.”
“Are you?”
“Yeah. I just keep thinking about his family.” Her chest tightened. “His daughter is going to blame herself.”
“He made a lot of mistakes that got him here, Brie. None of this is on you.”
“I know.” And she did. This wasn’t her fault. But fault or not, she felt grief for the man she used to know. “Connor called you?” she asked.
He nodded. “He was worried about you.”
“Well, I’m fine now. Someone raised me to be tough.”
“Tough maybe, but you’re still human.”
“Yeah, there is that.” She inhaled. “How’s Carlos?”
“Really good. He’s responding to questions now. Shaking his head yes and no. The doctors are taking out the tube this afternoon.”
“Good. I’ll go and see him when I’m finished here.” She looked back at the door. “I should go. They’re going to need a statement from me.”
“You need me with you?”
“No. I’ll be fine. I promise. You should be sleeping. And tell Sam he doesn’t need to stay at the hospital. At least this part of this debacle is over.” Brie considered Rosaria—this meant it was over for her, too.
A knock sounded at the door. “Come in,” Brie said.
Connor walked in. His gaze went right to her. He had a piece of paper in his hands. “You should see this.”
“What is it?”
“A suicide letter. It was on Calvin’s laptop. There was a leak to the press about the shooting in Willowcreek. It listed the names of witnesses. Rosaria’s name was in it. Calvin must’ve seen it. It sounded as if he thought Rosaria knew he was the one who had called Pablo. Between believing it was over and the guilt, he had decided to end it.”
Brie swore she hadn’t felt guilty for pushing Calvin to the brink, but maybe a part of her did, because some heaviness in her chest lightened.
* * *
Connor watched Mark and Brown leave the room, but he stayed seated across from Brie. Considering she’d just witnessed a man kill himself, she came off strong, composed, and professional. Not that he didn’t notice the way she closed her fist every few minutes. He recalled all too clearly the days after that dreadful day in the alley. Flashbacks. Don hitting the ground, Don’s eyes empty, then the kid: scared and dying, then gone.
She closed her fist again. He felt a tight grip in his chest. Instinct had him wanting to reach for her, hold her, help her, but his gut reminded him she’d already pushed him away.
The interview lasted only twenty minutes. The crime scene told the story. Brie pushed in her chair and met his gaze.
“You called Eliot—”
“It’s not because I saw you as weak!” he said quickly. “I know…I saw my partner killed. I know he wasn’t your partner, but you worked for him for five years. You respected him. At one time he was your hero. You wouldn’t let me help, so I called Eliot. You can be pissed—”
“I was going to say thank you.” She rested her hand on the table.
Relaxing his defensive posture, he slumped back in his seat. “I’m sorry. I thought…”
“I know,” she said.
He shifted his hand close to hers. His fingers brushed against the side of her hand. “Are you okay, really?”
“I will be. I probably won’t sleep for a few days, but I’ll be okay.”
He nodded. “If I can do anything. All you need to do is ask.”
She pulled her hand away and clenched her fist again. “Is someone contacting Agent Calvin’s wife? Should I—”
“No. Sergeant Brown called the FBI. They’re sending someone.”
She took a deep breath. “Can I go see Rosaria? I’m assuming you’ll be cutting the protective detail.”
“No one has discussed it yet, but I’m sure we will. Let me clear a few things, and then I’ll drive you there.”
“You don’t have to.”
A knock came at the door. Brie flinched.
He frowned at her reaction. “You shouldn’t drive, at least for a few hours.” He looked at the door. “Come in.”
Mildred walked in, tears in her eyes. “I just wanted to give you a hug. When I heard the gun go off, I was so afraid…”
Brie’s eyes teared up as she stood and hugged the woman. It lasted several long seconds. Two people drawing strength from one another. So, she’d let Mildred comfort her, but not him. That stung when all he wanted was…Hell, what did he want?
The answer came back. A chance. A chance with Brie Ryan.
When Mildred left, Connor stood up. “You want to hang here? I’ll swing by and get you as soon as I can leave.”
“Yeah.”
He started out.
“Wait,” she said.
Connor turned back around.
“Have you gotten the prints back yet?”
His gut tightened. “I was going to tell you later.”
“Tell me what?” She studied him. “Why do you look like it’s bad news?”
He exhaled. “It’s not Dillon Armand. It’s his cousin, Marcus. He was using his own passport.”
“What?” She dropped back down in a chair. “But he’s passing himself off as—”
“I know, but as Mark said, impersonating a cousin isn’t enough to hold him on. But I’m confused as to why he’d lie…”
“Access to the girls.” Brie nipped at her lip. “By pretending to be part-owner, Grimes worked with him to get him whatever he wanted. Encouraged the employees to…give him favors.”
“Yeah, that has to be it. But wouldn’t Grimes recognize it wasn’t Dillon?”
“I told you, they look alike.” Sighing, she looked up, tears in her eyes. “He might not be the one who killed Alma.”
“I know.”
“Or maybe…Wait. Remember I told you that Dillon wasn’t here when she went missing. That’s why we couldn’t get him, because he wasn’t here. But Marcus was. We can prove that now.”
“Just being in the country isn’t enough, Brie. You know that. And the witness in Guatemala said he had seen Alma with Dillon, not Marcus.”
“It’s a family business. They might both—”
“We need more.”
“So what does that mean for the case?” she snapped.
He saw the desperation in her eyes and would have given anything to assure her that he saw them proceeding as before, but the truth was he didn’t know where things stood. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean ‘I don’t know’?”
“I mean, we can’t arrest him yet. And I’m not sure ICE will continue helping.”
“Maybe we don’t have enough for my sister’s murder, but we have him for the human trafficking.”
“I don’t know if we have enough for that either.”
“We know two women who worked at the clubs, the one using the fake identity of Tammy Alberts and my sister, are both dead. And we have proof that both were taken outside the country. And you said Regina Berger ran for a reason. You can’t just give up.”
“I’m not. But right now we have no proof tying Marcus to those girls.”
“Then we get the proof. I’ll get it.”
How, Connor thought, but didn’t ask. Brie was already taking too much on herself and risking her life. The last thing he wanted was for her to take on more.
* * *
Anger felt good. It helped Brie focus. Or it at least took some of the focus off what she’d seen. Not that she was angry at Connor. She even told him that, but he seemed to be cautiously leery of her. Or maybe just quiet.
They walked into Rosaria’s hotel suite.
“She’s in the room,” the officer said. “I told her you were coming and that she was safe now, but I didn’t explain anything.”
Rosaria rushed out. “Is it really over?”
Brie nodded. “Yes.”
“So you got the agent who ordered Pablo’s death? Tell me he will be in prison for the rest of his life.”
Brie swallowed. “He committed suicide.”
“He’s dead?”
“Yeah.”
Rosaria put a shaking hand over her lips. “Is it wrong for me to be happy?” Tears filled her eyes.
“No,” Brie said, but it hurt. And a part of her wanted to explain to Rosaria that they had threatened Agent Calvin’s daughter, to take some of the guilt off the man she’d once known, but to even say it seemed to imply it justified what he’d done. And it didn’t. Nothing would.
“Are you sure I’m safe now?”
“Positive.”
Brie reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope with a thousand dollars in it. She’d had Connor stop by her bank on the way here. “I want you to take this. It’ll help you get back on your feet. I also think you need to contact a lawyer. The FBI should compensate you for what happened. Tell your lawyer if he needs someone to testify, I’ll do it.”
Rosaria looked at the envelope. “You don’t have to give me this.”
“Please. It’s a gift to Pablo as well.”
Rosaria took the envelope. “He was right. You are a good person.”
Brie smiled. “I think about him a lot. His infectious grin. His jokes.”
Rosaria let out a sound that was half laugh, half cry. “He was so bad at telling them.”
“Really bad.” Brie laughed and breathed deeply, emotion almost choking her.
“I miss him so much,” Rosaria said.
“I know. He was one of a kind.”
They hugged. Tight. In the embrace, Brie felt a tiny emotional shift. Maybe now she could let go of the guilt about Pablo. As she pulled back she saw Connor studying her. For one second, she wondered what it would take for him to lose the guilt he carried.
“That went well,” Brie said as they left.
“Yeah,” Connor said.
Brie and Connor had just settled in his car when her phone rang with an unknown number.
“Hello?” she answered.
“This is Detective Ashmore from the APD. May I ask whom I’m speaking with?”
“What’s this about?” Brie glanced at Connor.
“I’m working a missing person case. And this number was found in the victim’s things.”
“What victim? Who’s missing?”
“Candace Brooks.”
“Candy’s missing?” And just like that, Brie recalled part of the phone conversation she’d heard outside Grimes’s office. How many are blond?