Us, Ash thought, what does she mean by—
He was cut off by her mantra. By the words he had been hearing since childhood, but whereas they were usually cursed at him, now they sounded almost like a lullaby. “Cruelty has a human heart,” she sang, “and jealousy a human face; terror the human form divine and secrecy the human dress.”
Ash dropped his head into his hands, thankful she stopped when she did, but dreading what he knew was coming.
“Good or bad, publicity is publicity. Nothing said or written is nothing.”
Ash brought his hands to his head and grabbed a fist full of hair with each. Pulling at the roots dulled his throbbing headache. Don’t say it, he thought. Please, don’t say it.
“You need to find another canvas. Maybe this time, your work will merit people’s comments.”
7
As soon as the news conference was over, Sin was on the phone to the director of the Bureau.
“Did you hear that pompous ass?” Sin yelled. Pacing back and forth in front of the ME’s office, she squeezed her cell as if strangling Rand’s neck. “I want him barred from having anything to do with this case from here on out. He put my goddamn cell phone number on the television. If he pulls another stunt like that, I want his badge!”
“Normally,” Frank said in a calm voice, “I would ask what you did to prompt his actions, but since I had the displeasure of speaking to him, I realize it might be his sparkling personality that’s at the core of the problem, and not you…for once.”
Sin stopped pacing. “Well,” she said, “do I have your permission to kick his ass and his department off the case?”
She could hear Frank sigh. “Yes and no.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means that I will email the requisite paperwork to have Captain Rand pulled off the case, but you still need support. As large as the Miami field office is, it’s over its head right now on other matters.”
“What other matters?” Sin paused, pulled a half-smoked cigarette out of her pack, and lit it. “Wait, are you talking about the drugs found near the Miami River?”
“Yes, the operation is much bigger than we first suspected. The office pooled a lot of resources and agents to work that case, and most of the other agents are busy with their own cases. Those are a couple of the reasons why I agreed to have you brought in.”
“That reminds me,” Sin said, “why does the name Raul Sanchez sound so familiar?”
Sin could hear Frank talking to someone else in his office.
“Sin, I need to go to a meeting. For now, I will allow you to diplomatically remove Rand from the case. But if you do, don’t expect cooperation from his department. You will need back up.”
“Fine, I will make contact with the Miami office and work with whoever they have available.”
“Done. Contact me tomorrow with an update.”
Frank hung up before Sin could respond. He agreed way too fast, she thought. Biting her lower lip, she stared down at her phone.
I think I was just set up.
8
An hour later, Sin rode up to the front of the FDLE office on Miami Beach. Reporters were camped out across the street as a couple of uniforms kept them from entering the building.
She parked her bike on the sidewalk in front of HQ and was stopped before she’d traveled ten feet.
“You can’t park your bike on a public walkway.” The officer pointed to the end of the block. “There is a public parking lot at the end of the street. You will need to park there.”
Sin flashed the badge that was hanging around her neck. “I won’t be long,” she said as she continued toward them.
One of the officers looked down and saw the twin pearl-handled .45 caliber revolvers strapped to her hips. His hand instinctively slid toward his gun belt.
Sin spread her arms out wide. “Easy, Officer,” she said, “we’re all on the same side. I’m here to see Captain Rand.”
The officers eyed one another, nodded, and the one closest to the door opened it, allowing Sin entrance to the building.
The blast of cold from the air conditioning felt like a small piece of paradise as she walked through the open door.
Alarms went off as she made her way through the metal detectors and two other officers quickly materialized.
Sin held her credentials high. “I’m with the FBI.”
She watched as the officers moved forward cautiously; their gazes shifting between her face and gun belt.
Sin had been in the habit of wearing her Colt .45’s in an old-fashioned gun belt reminiscent of a western gunslinger from long ago. She found that, in the parts of the world she tended to prowl, the sooner you made a statement—the better.
One officer dropped his shooting hand to the butt end of his Glock while the other scrutinized her credentials. He eyed her badge, glared at her, and walked to the other side of the lobby. Sin watched him depress the talk button on his radio and start to whisper.
Keeping her eyes on the young officer with the twitchy fingers while listening to the other, it was evident that Sin’s presence was being reported to Captain Rand. She took it in stride. After all, in a matter of minutes the balance of power was about to change.
The officer on the radio finished his call and walked back. “You can head up to the third floor but you need to leave your weapons here.”
Sin slid her hand over her gun belt, unbuckled it, and placed the assembly into a lockbox. Given the key, she stepped into the elevator and waited for the doors to close. As soon as they did, she lifted her pant leg and slid her pearl-handled Balisong—butterfly knife—from her boot and placed it in her back pocket. You can never have too many weapons, she thought. Just as she pulled her pant leg back over
