'I know,' Blair said dryly, 'the team is completely self-sufficient.'
'To some extent, yes,' Grant acknowledged, ignoring the edge of sarcasm in Blair's voice. 'You'll be perfectly safe here with us.'
'I don't doubt it,' Blair said, meaning it. She wasn't in the least concerned for her own safety. It wasn't her safety that had ever been her concern.
'When it's possible, I like to talk to my father. He'll be worried.'
At the mention of her father, Grant nearly came to attention. 'Of course. I'll relay the information to Stark. She's acting chief until the Commander returns.'
Blair stared at her, a quick stab of fear knifing through her chest. 'Do you know where Cam is? Do you have any information?'
Grant looked uncomfortable. 'Agent Stark is in command temporarily, Ms. Powell, and I'm sure she'll brief you soon.'
Blair resisted the urge to push her for more. She recognized a stone wall when she saw one. She could hear Stark and Savard's murmured voices in the adjoing room, and she assumed they were still apprising whomever it was they needed to apprise of the situation. It was approaching two hours since they had left Central Park: two hours that felt like an eternity; two hours that felt like a nightmare from which she could not awake. She wasn't planning on waiting much longer for information.
'How's your headache?' Savard asked quietly.
Stark was leaning against the breakfast bar in the dining alcove, a radio transmitter in one hand and the telephone receiver in the other. She glanced across the room to where Savard sat at a small desk, her personal computer in her left hand.
'What headache?' Stark grunted, trying to carry on three conversations at once.
'The one you're pretending you don't have,' Savard noted absently without looking up, punching information into her handheld.
'Feels like my eyeballs are going to fall out,' Stark responded flatly.
'Thought so,' Savard said off-handedly, making a note in her daily log. 'You're going to need a CAT scan.'
'Yeah, sure. Next month maybe.' Stark was listening to Mac relay the status of the investigation in Central Park while juggling equipment and trying to jot notes. She'd gotten the all-clear call just a minute before. At least this location was felt to be secure and they could stay put for a while. She was glad because she thought she might vomit if she had to ride in the car again. She closed her radio transmission, simultaneously hung up the receiver, and crossed her arms over her chest, trying to stave off another wave of nausea. 'Where's Doyle?'
Savard looked up in surprise, noting immediately that Stark's color was lousy. 'Don't know. Haven't heard from him. I'm assuming he's going to want me to stay with the team, so all I'm trying to do is organize my field notes from today. We need to review the preliminary psych profile on this guy ASAP, too. I don't think anyone expected a bomb.'
'That's an understatement, Agent Savard,' Stark grumbled, her expression grim and beneath the anger in her tone, a hollow note of pain. 'At least I hope no one did. Because if anybody had any idea of this and didn't tell us about it, there'll be hell to pay. We lost an agent today.'
A sharp gasp from the doorway caused them both to turn quickly in that direction. Blair Powell, stood there, white as a sheet, and for a second, Stark thought she might fall.
'Are you all right, Ms. Powell?' Stark asked in genuine concern.
'Who?' Blair steadied herself with one hand on the back of a dining room chair and waited until she was quite sure her voice was steady. 'You said you lost an agent,' she heard herself say in a surprisingly calm voice that couldn't possibly be her own, because she was quite certain she was screaming. 'Who?'
Stark looked uncomfortable and a little uncertain. 'I'm sorry, that information - '
'Jeremy Finch,' Renee Savard said immediately. She ignored the quick look of surprise and uncharacteristic anger from Stark, her gaze returning to Blair's face. 'He was in the lead car.'
'I'm sorry,' Blair said softly. She recognized the quick rush of relief that accompanied the sound of his name, but she couldn't bring herself to feel guilty. This time it wasn't Cam. It wasn't Cam.
'There's no reason for you to be sorry,' Stark said, gently now, too. 'You are not responsible for what this maniac does. It has nothing to do with you.'
Blair shook her head, appreciating Stark's kindness, but unable to accept it. 'Itdoes have something to do with me. Agent Finch was assigned to me. His job was to protect me.'
'It's still doesn't mean that what happened to him was your fault,' Stark persisted.
Blair smiled, a sad smile. 'That's a very fine distinction you're making, Agent Stark.'
'It's the fine distinctions that make all the difference,' Savard responded in a firm butcompassionate tone.
'I wish I could accept that,' Blair said, almost to herself. She regarded them both and asked one last time, 'Have you talked to Commander Roberts?'
'Not yet, ma'am,' Stark answered, and Blair believed her.
'I'll be in the other room. Could you please let me know when you have more information?' She was more emotionally exhausted than physically tired. There was nothing she could do and she couldn't bear the conversation
