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"Special agent," a booming voice called out over the chatter of the EMT’s and crowd.
Nash grimaced, turned, and watched the deputy walk toward him. "Guess you heard about the chase," he said by way of greeting. His boss coming to the crime scene shouldn't have surprised him, especially when the situation had turned out to be such a clusterfuck.
"I'll go talk to that hostess now." Pure panic vibrated through Cam. He ran away from their boss, going back into the hotel in order to find their witness. "Bye."
The deputy scarcely glanced his way before asking, "Are you hurt?"
Nash shook his head and waved away the EMT that was trying to check him over, but he sat on the bumper of the ambulance. "No, but I smell like a drunken hobo. During the shootout, a bunch of bottles broke—they were in the middle of a delivery. I didn't drink any of it, even though I feel like doing so now—just so you are aware. There was a fire, a little one. We took part in some gunplay. I didn't do any harm. Some furniture damage. That's probably my fault. Um... the breakage and stuff too, you know," he gave the run down swiftly.
"Uh-huh." He looked at all the police and fire personnel who swarmed inside and out of the hotel. "I'm sure that everyone got a cheap thrill from you guys running around here like it's the wild west. They'll be twittering, facing and all that other nonsense that goes with social media. I'll contact the legal department, so they realize what's coming their way. Tell me why this happened."
"I can do that. Just let me find Cam..." Nash said, standing to look for his partner.
His boss waved him back down and said, "I'll get his version later. You tell me now." He pushed Nash back down onto the edge of the ambulance when he didn't comply right away.
"Sir..." Nash began.
"Now, special agent," the man ordered, making it known with his tone that Nash wasn’t going to avoid the debriefing. Nash sighed but told his version of events.
The deputy stood watching the passing traffic as he listened, but said nothing. His face never changed. "So, you were trying to keep the dying man, who hates you, out of the fray?" he asked at the end.
"Obviously, it went to shit. I don't make a habit of kicking puppies or roughing-up cancer-riddled men. The hostess said something to cause her to unravel, put her on edge. She disappeared in a flash." The EMT had patched the scrapes he sustained. He didn't realize the extent of his injuries until looking down and he saw the white bandages that peppered his skin.
"What is the plan to find her?" the deputy asked.
"Everything. We should never have let Adams get away. Securing this suspect was my job and I failed. I let her escape, but we'll run her down."
"Beating yourself up will not finish the job. However, we can't let her leave the city. She is a violent suspect. One with substantial means to make a getaway, no doubt to a country with no extradition where we can't reach her or touch her," he mused.
"No, sir," Nash agreed. "I'm afraid she'll hurt more people while she's running. I need to call the airport, bus stations, subways, trains, any mode of transportation out and shut it down. Same with her bank accounts. We cut off her money. She won't be able to run very far."
"I'll take care of that. I have more authority." The deputy was taking command. "You need a shower. You're getting riper by the minute."
Nash pulled the neck of his shirt over his nose, sniffed, gagged. "Whoa. I guess I do. Since you're doing those duties, use Cam. He can help you."
An hour later, after he had Willa go into his office to raid his stash of extra clothes. He needed to take a shower in order to get rid of the smell and the icky feeling that coated his skin. Throwing his old clothes away inside the locker rooms at FBI headquarters he headed back to his office. He wasn't about to try to scrub the booze and the blood out of the garments.
Then he made his way back upstairs to the conference room where both his team and McCann's were working—busy little worker ants updating evidence and information relayed by the different transportation units.
"She could be anywhere." Nash frowned at the maps and screens that surrounded him. "This could be her escape plan and had everything set up before the murders. Emergency cash and a car stashed somewhere. Change her appearance. She could leave the city in a matter of hours."
"I've been working with the deputy on shutting everything down," Burgess informed him. "He got us warrants for their surveillance. Between on-site and here, we're running all the facial recognition we can."
"Outstanding job. Keep me posted. Got it?" Nash said.
"No problem." She returned her focus to the computer, keyboard clicking. "Cam's been working on the best, most viable locations. We'll split the list with the MPD."
"Do you want me to stay here and coordinate through this office, between my team and yours?" McCann asked Nash.
"No. I want you to go back and sit with Marco and Miss Watson. I want to know if Adams contacts them. There's one other thing." Nash shook his head and gave him different directions.
"Of course," McCann said.
"If we don't find her, I won't be back in the office. I am staying out in the field. I'll need you to do the press release. Take Burgess or Cam with you if it comes up."
"Me?" Burgess looked up from her laptop in horror, shaking her head in denial. "Press release? Oh, no. Uh-uh. Storm, I'm not going to the press release."
"Think of your involvement as backing McCann up or protection detail," Nash suggested. He walked out of the room, leaving Burgess with her mouth hanging open.
"You didn't want to do the press release, so you foisted it off onto someone else. Like me and Burgess," Cam accused, catching the tail end of the conversation.
"Good, right?" Nash laughed and danced a little jig in the hallway. "Sometimes, things work out."
"I think I have to disagree with you. I imagine Burgess would disagree with you too," Cam said.
Nash waved and headed out into the city, picking Butters up on the way. He didn't question how Blue had learned about his fuck up or why Butters had been ordered to come back and follow him. Nash knew that there was no reason to argue, since he would just lose anyway and would waste valuable time.
They went to every spot on the compiled lists, even switching lists with the Metropolitan Police Department, searching those locations as well. It was a long, hot, tiring and frustrating duty.
Nash thought his task had taken him to places in the city he hadn't seen in a long time. There turned out to be too many historic hotels, parks, monuments and tourist attractions. Rich history made the houses and buildings beautiful, and was more than he remembered or brought back things he had once learned when he had first moved to the city. All these places also made his job more of a pain in the ass.
These were not the places that he thought someone who was running from the law would hide. But he couldn't think of anywhere else either, since they continued to slowly close off all her other options. It was well after dawn when he returned to his office and ordered everyone home. "We'll find her this afternoon. Her face has flashed over every news channel in D.C. Someone should spot her. She has to find somewhere to hide and rest. Somewhere to find food as well."
"So do we," Cam said, pushing his partner into the cot. "Goodnight, sir. We'll try again in a few hours."
"She'll still be in the city." Nash mumbled as he drifted off to sleep. "She wants to finish what she's started. Have to tell Marco, rub it in."
"You're right," Cam agreed and Nash felt a blanket fall over his body, covering him as he fell asleep.