She simply nodded. What could she say?
“As your supervisor, I am concerned about your health and well-being, both emotionally and physically. Now that the public has seen the video, I would be remiss if I didn’t also acknowledge the impact it will have on this investigation. How will you manage to conduct interviews and deal with media at crime scenes?”
She moved to head him off. “Sir, I—”
He held up a hand. “While you and Agent Wade were outside, I’ve spent the last hour dealing with the fallout from that video, which went viral.” His lip curled in disgust. “Public Affairs has been bombarded with media requests. I advised Cyber Crime to contact all major social media platforms with a request to shut down the Cipher’s accounts. The feed is no longer accessible through any of his profiles, but it’s been downloaded and reposted so many times that it’s still out there for anyone who wants to watch it.” His features hardened. “At least we managed to stop the bastard before he reached the thousand likes he demanded in order to show the next sixty seconds.”
Relief blossomed, then wilted in Nina’s chest. She had now escaped the Cipher twice. Clearly bent on revenge, he would probably share the rest of the video anyway.
Buxton continued in a grave tone. “The Director called me personally. He made it clear that we have his full support, including unfettered access to all resources.”
She was equal parts touched by the Director’s interest in her and mortified to realize that he, too, had seen the video.
“I assured him you would only continue on this case in an advisory capacity,” Buxton said. “And that you would no longer be out in the field.”
Anger, simmering close to the surface since the video, bubbled up in a hot rush. “Did you decide to bench me out of concern for my welfare, or have I become an embarrassment?”
She recalled the mantra drummed into her from the day she joined the FBI. Don’t embarrass the Bureau. Some minor transgressions could be overlooked, but not that.
Buxton’s eyes widened. “Agent Guerrera, I take it that you are understandably distressed, otherwise, I might have to conclude that you are being disrespectful.”
It would do no good to alienate the supervisory special agent. Nina drew in a long breath, dialing back her frustration. “Sir, what I need most right now is to continue working with my team to apprehend the Cipher.” She deliberately chose not to say the man who did this to me, hoping to create the impression of professional detachment where there was none.
Buxton did not appear mollified. “Every interview you conduct, people will have that image in their minds. The public will focus on you personally rather than answering your questions. Agents must be perceived as objective. That’s not possible for you.”
She tried to portray her liability as an asset. “We have a whole team of people who can be objective. We need someone who can be completely subjective. Someone who’s had direct experience with the Cipher.”
Wade cleared his throat. “Sir, if I may?” At Buxton’s nod, he pleaded her case. “The video proves there are certain things Agent Guerrera repressed. Through no fault of her own, there are details she cannot recall, but I’m confident they will come back to her if she’s involved in the investigation directly. I recommend she stay on the team.”
She wasn’t sure she appreciated how he’d defended her. Why had he brought up the gaps in her memory? Was he trying to help her cause or hurt it? “What did I supposedly repress?”
“You never mentioned that he called you a throwaway,” he said. “That’s important information.”
What had been a distorted series of recollections she now saw through the Cipher’s eyes because of the video. Fragments of images flooded back, a tidal wave overwhelming her, forcing her gaze down.
She recalled the police officer asking her for details after she’d escaped. Her entire body trembled as she revealed the sickening chain of events. But she’d been too ashamed to repeat the word he had called her.
Throwaway.
After a while, the memory faded, helped by her willful desire to push it down into the dark, bottomless well that held her worst moments.
“That term has meaning for him,” Wade said. “He used it several times in the video. No one who investigated your case back then knew he called you that. Do you see the significance of that word?”
She glanced up at him. “Back at the scene of the first murder in DC, you suspected the unsub knew about my background before he took me that night.” She made it a statement.
“Sofia Garcia-Figueroa was found in a dumpster,” he said. “I assessed the facts at hand and arrived at a logical conclusion.”
And she had argued against that conclusion because she didn’t want to believe it. If the Cipher knew she’d been left in a dumpster as an infant, that meant he had gotten a great deal of sensitive information about her, so much that he’d possibly played a role in her life. She groped for another explanation. “Maybe he believes girls are disposable. He uses them and throws them out like garbage.” She tapped her chest lightly. “Not me personally but all girls.”
“Then everything else about Sofia’s murder was orchestrated specifically for you, but the site he chose for the body was a coincidence?”
She had to come to terms with the possibility that Wade had been right all along. Her mind shifted into analytical mode. “How would he know about my past?”
“Exactly.” Wade stroked his jaw. “They investigated this all wrong, looking for some random stranger who grabbed you eleven years ago. What if he wasn’t a stranger or random? What if he knew you? Targeted you?”
“I didn’t even know I was going to run away until I did it,” she murmured, lost in contemplation. “How would he know?”
“According to your statement at the time, you’d been on the street for several days when he took you,” Wade said. “Maybe he was hunting for you. He was obsessed, and apparently, still is.”
She didn’t feel like a warrior now. A deep sense of shame had held back the word that might have made a difference. At sixteen, she hadn’t understood how the police worked a case, hadn’t known how seemingly insignificant details could provide a trove of useful information for a sharp detective. What if that one clue could have sent the investigation in a different direction eleven years ago? Four days ago? Would thirty-six innocent girls still be alive now?
Worst of all, she suspected she hadn’t told the police what he’d called her because part of her believed he was right. No one wanted her. That much had been proven time and again. She was a throwaway, as worthless as the trash she’d been tossed into.
How would others see her from now on? Would they only see the scars she could no longer hide?
The Cipher wanted her back in that place. The terrified girl in the video. Alone, humiliated, helpless. He chose victims he thought were unworthy of life. He’d stolen a part of her, changed her forever, but he would not take any more from her. Or from anyone else. She would be the one who stopped him.
Slowly, she lifted her chin and directed her gaze at Buxton. “Sir, I have the best chance of finding this unsub. And I’ve got to be out in the field to do it.” She spread her hands. “Sidelining me won’t work. The Cipher will keep dragging me back into this.”