The marshal frowned. “Why? What can we possibly hope to gain? The DD isn’t going to just confess.” She held hands out to her sides. “We don’t even know if he’s behind all this.”
Randall folded arms and held his chin. “You’re planning to set a trap.”
Devlin faced him.
“And you plan to use me as the bait.”
“Well,” she smirked, “it’s not my plan. You have the DEA to thank for that.”
He showed amusement at the technicality.
Thorn glimpsed him and Devlin. “I’m not following.”
“If the deputy director is behind this,” said Randall, “then he’ll have no choice. If he thinks I’m alive, with information that could incriminate him, he’ll have to take action.”
“And that action,” Thorn’s face lit up, “will out his involvement.” She nodded. “I think it can work.”
Devlin arched eyebrows at Randall.
Staring at the concrete, he pursed his lips before studying her. “So do I...let’s do it.”
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
.
Chapter 25
Deputy Director
9:27 p.m.
The server, an early thirty-something woman with red hair piled on top of her head, stopped at the table. “Are we still doing okay here?” Her words were flat. The restaurant was nearly empty, and she was bored. Her only two customers received her undivided attention.
Marshal Thorn smiled.
Michael Crane, the Deputy Director for the U.S. Marshals Service, stopped dragging the butter knife across a cinnamon roll. Cocking his head to gape at the woman, he shot daggers at her dark, sunken eyes haloed in black eye liner. She looks like a damn zombie. “For the tenth time in the last five minutes...yes, we’re still doing okay.”
The server stepped back, fidgeting with her hands. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to interrupt. I’ll be back to,” she stopped short, “let me know if you need anything.”
Thorn watched the woman hurry away before gawking at her table partner. You always were a mean S.O.B.
“So how confident are you that,” Crane slathered more butter on the roll, “you’ll get a meeting with the grand jury by tomorrow morning?”
Thorn bobbed her head. “Almost ninety percent. When I said Patton’s life could be in danger, they were more willing to speed things up.” She flipped a wrist to see her watch.
“And this Patton hasn’t,” Crane bit into the roll, tearing the baked good nearly in half, “told you who the mole is?”
She scooted to the end of the bench seat. “He doesn’t know. He says he has information that will lead investigators to the source of the breach.” The marshal stood.
“And he’s with Deputy Marshal Devlin...at a safe house?”
Thorn nodded. “After the attempts on his life, he only trusts her.”
“I can understand that.” Crane lifted the knife toward her. “What’s the rush?”
“I forgot. My security detail is waiting for me outside.”
He arched eyebrows. “Since when do you need a security detail?”
She shook her head. “It’s more of a transport, really. Devlin borrowed my car...until this is over.” She slung her purse. “I’ll keep you posted on any new developments.”
Crane swallowed, forcing the ball of dough down his gullet. “Please do.”
*******
Outside the restaurant, Thorn got into the back of an SUV, slammed the door, and retrieved a cell phone. She hailed the driver. “Take me home, Roger.”
“Yes ma’am.” The deputy marshal merged the Chevrolet into traffic.
She touched the mobile to her cheek. “I just left. I’m heading home.”
In Thorn’s ear, Devlin: “How’d it go?”
“I let plenty of minute details slip during the conversation,” she paused, “including the fact that you’re driving my car. If he’s any kind of detective at all, he’ll be able to track the vehicle to the safe house.” She adjusted her position in the seat, straightening her skirt. “Now, all that’s left to do is wait...to see if he makes a move.”
“We’re ready.”
“I’m not comfortable with this, Jessica.” Thorn spied the city lights passing by her window. “If Crane is the mastermind, he’ll be coming for you with everything he has.”
“I know.”
Silence consumed the communication line for several moments.
“When I was watching the lead S.O.G. agent’s body camera—during the raid on that shack—I don’t mind telling you that my heart was in my throat...as he rolled the body of that dead woman. From behind, she looked just like you.”
More stillness hung on the airwaves.
“I’ve—we’ve—already lost a good agent.” Seeing Blake Hawkins in her mind, Thorn swallowed hard. “I don’t want to lose another one, so you look after yourself.”
*******
Inside the restaurant, Crane finished off a glass of red wine and dug out a phone from his jacket pocket. Seconds later, he cleared his throat. “How soon can you get a couple of teams ready for a strike?”
A male voice from the phone: “Midnight...at the earliest.”
“Good. I’ll have a location for you within the hour.”
“How many targets?”
“Two...one is Deputy Marshal Devlin. Do you think you can handle taking this broad out? I realize,” sarcasm poured out from Crane’s mouth, “it’ll be more difficult than apprehending her six-year-old girl. But, then again, we both know how that turned out, don’t we?”
“The man was more formidable than I had anticipated. I won’t make the same—”
“Spare me your excuses and see to it that you don’t botch this assignment too.”
“Yes sir.”
“One more thing...I need you to—” Crane motioned toward the server standing on the other side of the restaurant.
The skittish woman fumbled inside the apron around her waist before producing a slip of paper and hurrying toward her patron.
“I need you to,” Crane turned back to his meal, “get every scrap of Intel you can on Devlin.” “Dig into her past...relatives, friends, coworkers, anyone she may have crossed paths with in the last few years.”
“What am I looking for?”
“Leverage...in case this Simon Patton proves as hard to kill here, as he did in Mexico.”
*******
After Thorn had clicked off, Devlin did the same and placed the cell phone from Steele on a table.
“So?” Randall thumbed the last cartridge into a magazine before smacking the plastic holder on his palm and laying it next to three of its brethren.
Seated across the table from
