“Jessica, the last thing I want...”
If I’m going to stay on the right side of morality...
“...is for an innocent American...”
...then it’s time I get back to my roots, my faith.
“...to go to jail or be killed for something that he—or she—didn’t do.”
Devlin faced the President, her lips pursed, her eyes narrow. “May I ask you a question, sir?”
“Of course.”
“Why me? You must’ve had so many more people you could have chosen for this job. Why was I your first choice?”
“You weren’t.”
Devlin recoiled.
“But you had the best references.”
She frowned.
“A couple of my people, friends of yours, lobbied me on your behalf...Agents Hardy and DelaCruz?”
Devlin cracked a smile before letting the gesture fade.
“I trust and respect them—and their opinions—a great deal. Their testimony forced me to take a closer look at your time at the Marshals Service. Are you aware that, over the last five years, you rank in the upper echelon among your peers when it comes to arresting those on the 15 Most Wanted Fugitives list?”
Bobbing her eyebrows once, she shook her head. “No sir. I’m not really into keeping score.”
He chuckled. “That’s exactly what your colleagues say about you.”
Her cheeks flushing, Devlin dipped her chin and cast a downward glance before coming back to the President.
“During that five-year period, you’ve also shot more fugitives than any other marshal or deputy marshal.” Conklin crossed arms over his chest. “And your most recent,” he wavered, “adventure shall we say...highlights your resolve to do whatever is necessary to finish what you start.” He paused. “Hardy and DelaCruz may have vouched for you, Jessica, but make no mistake. I’m offering you this job based on,” he motioned her way, “your own merits.”
“Thank you, sir.” Biting her lower lip, she regarded the President of the United States, the man presenting her with a new title, a new opportunity to do what she loved to do...protect her family by getting criminals off the streets. Her gaze settled on the fire while her thoughts turned to her husband and child. How will this affect them? Longer hours at work? Nights away from home? She recalled the Mexico assignment. If the past is any indicator, then... She eyeballed the President for a few moments. “May I take some time to think this over, sir?”
“Take as much time as you need.” He swung an open palm toward an adjacent room. “However...”
The President and Devlin moseyed away from the fireplace, he on her right.
“...the only answer I’ll accept...is yes.”
She let a short laugh escape and observed the man who had delivered the steadfast assertion with a light, straight-lined smile. I don’t think, her brows curled downward, he’s kidding.
His appearance brightened. “I’m sure you’re eager to get back to your family, but I was hoping you could stay for a bit...to meet mine.”
“I’d,” she recovered her composure and mirrored his expression, “I’d love to, Mr. President.”
“My wife and daughter are preparing dinner in the next room...shrimp and pasta in some,” he shrugged a shoulder, “garlic and butter sauce, I believe.” He faced her. “Do you like shrimp and pasta?”
She chuckled. “Who doesn’t?”
“It’s settled then. You’re staying for dinner.” He led Devlin through an archway. “I realize you’re still processing all this, but do you have any prospects—for your team, I mean?”
Entering a larger and better-lit room, “As a matter of fact...” Devlin nodded while spying the First Lady and the President’s daughter moving from one cooking station to another, “I do have someone in mind, sir.”
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
.
Chapter 33
Penance
7 may—5:04 p.m.
northern minnesota
Having alternated between pressing the doorbell and rapping on the door for the last five minutes, Devlin stepped off the front porch and strolled to the cabin’s backside while taking in the heavily wooded property. Peeping through gaps in the trees, she spotted a pond and sauntered toward the water.
Cutting across a patch of tall, grassy land, hearing nothing but her footwear trampling vegetation, and a chirping bird now and then, she regarded the large trees, blues skies, and the sun’s rays peeking through the branches. Her mind recalled how the area had been described to her. Peaceful...just like he said.
Devlin stopped at the edge of a dock, a rectangle the size of two pickup trucks parked side by side. After gazing at the smooth water, she cast a backward glance to her starboard side before shoving fingers into the back pockets of her blue jeans and admiring the surrounding forest.
“Marsh—Deputy Marshal Devlin.”
Inwardly, she huffed. Back to formalities again. “Actually, it’s Marshal now. I received a promotion.”
“Well,” sitting in an Adirondack chair, sunglasses resting atop his hair, Randall brought back a fishing pole and snapped his wrists, “bully for you.” The reel made a buzzing sound, as the lure zipped over the pond and plopped beneath the surface.
She nodded. I suppose I deserved that.
Hearing the callousness in his voice, he winced and softened his tone. “Congratulations.”
She took a moment to reply. “Thank you.” In the next moments, a crow cawed somewhere nearby. “I tried calling you several times. Everything went straight to voicemail.”
“That’s one of my favorite things about this place...terrible cellular service.” He wound the knob on the reel. “How did you find me, anyway?”
“Have you forgotten what I do for a living?” After shooting him another glance, “That and,” Devlin claimed a second slatted lounge chair on his left, “your mother was all too quick to divulge your location once she thought I might be your girlfriend.”
“Is that what you told her?”
“Let’s just say,” she placed forearms on the armrests, “I never corrected her.”
Randall let the hint of a grin pass over his lips. Crafty.
Devlin leaned back and put her feet on the wooden lounger’s attached footrest. Bending one knee, she looked as if she were sunning herself on the deck of a cruise ship.
For the next couple of minutes, Randall fished while she reclined. If it weren’t for the awkward silence hanging in the seventy-degree air between them, they were like any other couple enjoying a lazy afternoon by the lake.
Leaning forward, he
