“Who?”
“Tom Atwater, James Wright, and Luke Mullins.”
Sin’s shoulders slumped. “Damn—all good agents.”
Silence engulfed the room.
Sin leaned forward. “Frank, before I agree to anything, I have a lot of questions.”
“I’m sure you do, but I request you hold them until I’m finished.”
“Go ahead,” Sin said.
Frank stood and stepped to the side of the conference table and addressed Sin. “I just want to warn you, the pictures you’re about to see are graphic. When you see their content, you will know why we want you back.” Using a remote, he activated a presentation. “Six girls between the ages of twelve and fifteen have been fished out of the Atlantic Ocean along the lower Keys and in the Gulf of Mexico along the Florida and Louisiana coast in the past four months.” He clicked the remote. “Subject one was snagged in a shrimp net on the third of May approximately a half mile off of Key West. Her body showed minor signs of decomposition. During autopsy it was discovered that she had multiple burn marks as well as a number of fractures which had not begun to heal.”
He paused for a moment to eye Sin and could see goose bumps forming on her exposed forearms.
“What am I seeing on her wrists and ankles?” she asked. “Are those ligature marks?”
“There was post mortem evidence that proved that she and all the others had been tied up or shackled for a prolonged period of time before they were killed.” As if reading Sin’s mind, he continued. “And before you ask, the evidence proved that each of the girls had been repeatedly sexually assaulted.”
Sin dropped her head. “Fuck.” She took a deep breath, inhaling through her nose and out her mouth. “She’s Hispanic. Where was she from?”
“That’s one of the reasons I need you back,” Frank said, “they were all Central-American in ethnicity.”
Westcott fixed his sight on Sin. “I am apprehensive to bring you in for the same reasons Frank wants you. It was your involvement in a human trafficking ring that got you canned.”
Indignation flushed Sin’s expression. “It was because of my involvement that we were able to take those scumbags off the street and save the lives of hundreds of innocent children.”
Westcott banged the tip of his index finger off the table accentuating his words. “There are policies and procedures that we all have to follow. The FBI is a federal organization. You had no jurisdiction outside of this country. You had no right to travel to Central America and play cowboy in the jungles of Nicaragua.”
“What the fuck did you expect me to do?” She eyed both men. “I brought my intel and the evidence to the bureau and you,” she pointed at Westcott, “pulled the joint-task force and sat on the information while more girls were being kidnapped and raped.”
Frank tried to calm her down. “Sin, we were working on setting up a net . . .”
“Net—my ass,” she raged. “Everyone sat around picking their noses because I found out that the syndicate running the prostitution ring was also a big time lobbyist.” She stared at Westcott. “God forbid, we have to buy domestic clothing, ain’t that right, Folsom.”
Westcott picked up his pen and hurled it over Sin’s head. “You little bitch. You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about. How dare you sit there and accuse me of being part of any of that.”
“Then why don’t you tell me why you dragged your feet. Tell me why I had to throw away my entire career and go to Nicaragua by myself to bring those bastards in.” She leaned over the desk and yelled at Westcott. “Tell me why the CIA, the NSA, or the fucking PTA wasn’t notified and on the ground before I got there!”
“Enough,” Frank screamed. “The two of you are going to shut up and sit there, or I swear I will put a bullet in each of you.”
Westcott glared at Frank. “Be careful who you talk to in that tone.”
“Don’t you dare pull rank on me, Folsom. I remember when you were a ‘wet behind the ears’ recruit. If it wasn’t for my recommendation, you wouldn’t be where you are now.”
Westcott snarled and sat back down.
Sin sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest.
“We are not here to rehash the past.” Frank looked at both of them. “If you want to discuss what happened six years ago, do it on your own time. Now, where was I?”
“You were about to tell me why you need me back so bad. There are other operatives who know more about Central America than I do.”
“That’s just one reason I need you back. There are others.”
“Such as?”
“Such as the fact that Alex and the other agents were found on the beach of Tumbleboat Key.” That got Sin’s attention. “And because we have a leak somewhere in the intelligence chain.”
Sin put her hand up to stop him. “Go back to reason number two. Are you telling me that someone on Tumbleboat Key has something to do with Alex’s murder and the dead girls?”
Westcott appeared to have a cocky look on his face. “Maybe even your dear ‘ole daddy,” he mumbled.
Sin reached into the pocket of her jeans and flipped open a pearl-handled blade, cocked her arm back in a throwing motion, and pointed it at Westcott. Her reaction was so fast, Westcott was frozen in fear.
“Put it down, O’Malley!” Frank yelled.
She flashed her eyes in his direction and back at Westcott. “If you ever say anything like that again,” she seethed, “I won’t hesitate to gut you.”
“Put down the blade, Sin,” Frank repeated.
Sin relaxed her arm and with a flip of her wrist, closed it and slid the handle back into her pocket.
Westcott fumed. “Arrest her or I will!” he screamed.
Frank spun around and jumped in his face. “Fuck you,” he yelled back. “If your remarks were aimed at me, I would have done the same thing.” He poked his finger in Westcott’s
