Elizabeth, wrapped in her robe, turned him to her and kissed his cheek. She was warm and smelled so good to him.
“This is a terrible case, Frank,” she said. “You were tossing and turning.”
“I know.”
“Let me fix you something before you go in.”
“I’ll take a bagel and some fruit to eat on the way. How’s she doing?”
“She’s got a new boyfriend. Jerrod.”
“Do we like him?”
“Too soon to tell.”
“Have they…?”
“She tells me she believes in abstinence.”
“Do you believe her?”
“We have to trust her.”
“Want me to polygraph her?”
“Seriously, is there something we need to talk about?”
“What do you mean?”
She pulled him away from Hailey’s door.
“You’ve been acting like you’ve got something on your mind, and the weight thing.”
“Just work, Beth. I’ve got a lot on my plate.”
For an intense moment she read his face for any evidence of deception before shifting to another subject.
“I am so sorry about those guards, the agent. Did you know him?”
“No, he worked in Bridgeport. His wife is pregnant with their first.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I think that’s about the worst news a wife could ever hear.”
Morrow hated himself for not being able to tell her about his condition.
Morrow got behind the wheel of his bureau car, an old Taurus, but before he started the engine, his phone hummed.
He’d received a flurry of reports, including an updated version of the WPA story he’d seen last night. It quoted “unnamed sources,” stating that an FBI agent was among the victims, that he was shot while going for his weapon and investigators had an eyewitness to his “execution.”
Morrow cursed under his breath.
This kind of crap was dangerous. Leaks kept the suspects informed. Morrow’s phone vibrated again with a new message that seized his full attention.
It was from the director of the FBI.
“Agent Morrow. I want you to keep me personally updated on the progress of the Ramapo investigation.”
Morrow took in a deep breath then let it out slowly.
It was 4:58 a.m. when he started the car and rolled from his modest colonial home in Pelham, working his way westbound on the Cross County Parkway. He made good time to the merge with the Saw Mill River Parkway until it continued south as the Henry Hudson Parkway in upper Manhattan. Then it was on to the West Side Highway and downtown.
Traffic was good at this hour.
He found a calming, classical music station and as New Jersey and New York streamed by him in the incipient light, he thought of what he was facing.
Morrow was not bitter, angry or fearful. He was grateful for what he’d had, for Elizabeth, for Hailey, for his parents. It had been a good life, growing up in Laurel, Maryland. His father was a Maryland state trooper. His mother was a dental hygienist. They were God-fearing, devoted parents.
After getting a degree in criminology at the University of Maryland, Morrow became a police officer with Metro D.C. While on the beat, he obtained a master’s degree in law from Georgetown University where he’d met Elizabeth in the library. She was a research assistant for the U.S. Attorney General. Two years after he’d joined the FBI, they were married.
Morrow had had a good run with the bureau. He was recognized twice for exceptional service on organized crime and kidnapping cases he’d led in Chicago before transferring to New York, where Hailey was born. In New York he’d been assigned to the Joint Bank Robbery Task Force, working with FBI agents and NYPD detectives investigating major crimes like kidnappings, extortion, threats, bank and armored-car robberies.
In the wake of September 11, Morrow joined a special group of FBI agents that traveled to Afghanistan to question captured Taliban and al-Qaeda suspects.
He had devoted himself to keeping America safe. But even though Bin Laden was dead, there would always be a new threat, he thought, wheeling through Lower Manhattan, a few blocks from Ground Zero, before coming to the sentry posts and the barricades that sealed the streets surrounding Federal Plaza.
This quasi militarization was all in keeping with the so-called new normal, for the protection of the institutes and symbols of freedom that are sacrosanct. They define the nation. The security is insurance, he thought as the guard waved him through the check stop. That’s when Morrow made a mental note to check his policy and federal death benefits for Elizabeth, to ensure that she and Hailey would be financially secure, that she would not have to worry about the house, about Hailey’s college fund.
He’d take care of it.
As Morrow’s car entered the parking garage he glanced up at his building, gleaming in the twilight like a bastion of justice. After parking, he swiped his security ID then stepped into the elevator.
As it climbed he checked his watch: 5:47 a.m.
The case briefing was at 7:00 a.m.
We’ll see where we’re at then, Morrow thought, stopping off at the cafeteria for a large strong, black coffee before continuing up to the twenty-eighth floor. He went down the main reception hall, passed the framed photos of executive agents, as he did every day. This time his thoughts lingered as he glanced at the display nearby, the one honoring agents killed in the line of duty as the result of a direct adversarial force. The Service Martyrs.
Entering his office, Morrow saw that most members of his squad were at their desks, working the phones and studying data on their computer monitors. He set to work, reviewing everything they had so far, and made notes to prepare for the briefing. Twenty minutes later, agents and detectives from a spectrum of agencies crowded into the same boardroom where Glenda Stark, the assistant special agent in charge, had first alerted them to the case less than twenty-four hours earlier.
The air was a mingling of coffee, cologne, mint and righteous determination. Copies of a stapled six-page summary of the incident, encompassing statements, diagrams and preliminary results and analysis of a scene search, were circulated.
After a quick roll call of those in the room and the people whose voices echoed through the speakers of the teleconference line, Stark got to the point.
“Four people are dead. It is our solemn duty to see that those responsible for their deaths are brought to justice. We will bring to bear the full weight of every law enforcement arm involved in this case to ensure that we
