“So,” Devlin leaned forward and planted forearms on knees, “you’re telling me the deputy director is somehow involved in all this?”
Thorn’s shoulders bounced once. “I don’t know. He kept me in the dark. Every time I pushed for answers, he shot me down. Finally, after the SOG team found your cell at that bullet-ridden shack, I had had enough. I called him and demanded a face-to-face. I told him I wasn’t going forward without more information.”
Standing, Devlin took a couple paces toward the water, removed her cap, and freed her hair with a couple head bobs.
Thorn looked up at her. “You have to believe me, Jessica. I had nothing to do with what happened to you in Mexico. We’re friends. We go back years.”
After jamming the gun into the marshal’s ribcage, “If you try to run,” Randall rose to his feet, leaving his words hanging in the air. He took Devlin by the elbow and led her further away from Thorn. “Do you believe any of this?”
She folded arms over her chest and winced at the scenery. “I’m not sure what, or whom, to believe anymore. I used to know exactly who the bad guys were. My job was to find them and put them away. All this cloak and dagger, spy-like stuff is...” she gaped at the clear water as if it were a cesspool, “none of this stuff is in my wheelhouse.”
He glanced at the seated woman.
Devlin gestured in the same direction. “She’s Cassie’s godmother for crying out loud.”
Randall frowned. “Who?”
Devlin glimpsed him. “Cassandra...my daughter.”
He nodded. “That’s a nice name.”
“How do I bring myself to believe my kid’s godmother plotted to have me killed?” She hung her head and dug fingertips into her temples. Oh, what happened to the good old days? It used to be you knew who the enemy was. He was the one sticking a gun in your face. Now...now the enemy is sticking a knife in your back...while smiling to your face. A tick later, she inwardly snorted. Good old days? What am I...ninety? She shut her eyes. Get your head on straight, Jess. You have a job to do.
Devlin spun right and confronted her partner. “I’m winging it here, Randall. I need something, anything. What’s your take on her? Is she telling the truth?”
He puffed out his chest before exhaling, his wind blowing a lock of hair off her shoulder. “Under the right circumstances, anyone is capable of betraying a friend.” He eyed Thorn. “Personally, I don’t trust her, but,” he wavered, “ultimately, it’s your call. You know her. I don’t.”
Devlin turned away.
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t much help to you. But maybe this will be.”
She faced him.
“You trusted me at that shack in Mexico. You gave me a gun and took a chance on me. Now I’m returning the favor. Whatever you decide, Devlin...however this turns out, good or bad...I’m standing by you. I’ve got your back.”
Devlin regarded him for several moments. You’ve known me for all of a day, and you have my back. She flashed a weak smile. “Thank you.”
“You bet. Now what do you want to do?”
She half turned her head and spied Thorn. “We’ve known each other a long time. She was at my wedding. She was at Jon’s funeral. Cassie adores her.”
He bobbed his head. “I get it. She’s like family. It sucks when family betrays you.”
Devlin’s eyes opened wide. That’s it...family. She squeezed his upper arm. “The CIA trained you to analyze people, right?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“So do what you were trained to do...read her.” She strode back to the bench.
“Wait. What?” He caught up to her.
“Just tell me,” Devlin held up a forefinger, “one thing, Marissa. Why did you attack my family?”
Thorn’s hardened facade faded for a split second.
“Those men could have killed Cassie.”
Thorn’s jaw slackened.
“She’s your goddaughter. How could you put her in danger like that?”
The marshal scowled. “Jessica, what are you talking about?” She stood. “Has something happened to Cassie? Is she all right?”
“Oh, don’t give me that. You know damn well what I’m talking about.”
Thorn cast reciprocating glances at Randall and Devlin before her gaze settled on her subordinate. “Please, Jessica, just tell me Cassie’s okay?”
Devlin studied her boss before eyeing Randall.
He lifted a shoulder. “I’m not reading any deception.”
“You’re sure?”
“Unless she’s trained in counter-interrogation techniques...I think she’s telling the truth.”
“Jessica,” the marshal persisted, “what the hell is going on? Is Cassie all right?”
Devlin faced the woman. “Curt and Cassie were attacked last night.”
The older female covered a gasp with four fingers. “What happened?”
Devlin scrutinized the woman’s reaction, picking apart every detail. He’s right. She doesn’t know anything about it. Her mood lightened. “They’re fine. Curt beat back the assailants and called the police.”
Thorn exhaled and closed her eyes. “Oh, thank God.” A second later, her eyelids popped open, her face stoic. “These incidents are related, aren’t they?”
Devlin nodded. “And I’m convinced whoever orchestrated the hit on my family—”
“Was also behind the ambushes in Mexico.”
“That’s right.” Devlin motioned toward Randall’s pistol. “And since...”
He aimed the muzzle downward and hid the gun under his running jacket.
“...you knew nothing about what happened to my family, I’m now convinced you had nothing to do with whatever’s going on here.” She locked eyes with the marshal. “I’m sorry, Marissa. I just didn’t know who I could trust.”
“I understand. I would have done the same thing.”
“You said you had a meeting with the deputy director?”
“I do.”
“Where and when?”
“Tonight,” Thorn checked her watch, “at nine...at a restaurant in town.”
Devlin turned away and watched the older couple take a bend in the footpath, her mind showing her an image of the deputy director. We still have the advantage. He doesn’t know I’m back. He doesn’t know that Randall’s still alive. We can use that. With Thorn out of the equation as a suspect, Devlin pivoted toward the other two. She eyed Randall, “We need
