The second was that they were being called in to work a case.
Zoe prayed briefly for it to be an emergency that wouldn’t interrupt their meal, but of course, she didn’t believe in God, and any god who heard a prayer from a non-believer would likely go the other way in spite. They fished out their devices, both of them reading the same message: Call SAIC Maitland ASAP for briefing.
Shelley sighed. “I guess this night was going just a little too perfectly to be true.”
Zoe bit her lip, thinking of John sitting out there waiting for her, and wondering just how many more days it would be now before she got the chance to see him again.
CHAPTER FOUR
Zoe hesitated just outside the squat, square concrete monolith that was the J. Edgar Hoover building. To others, it was ugly, a piece of architecture more reminiscent of Cold War Russia than American greatness. Zoe appreciated its lines and the uniformity of both the interior and the exterior, but she also, at that moment, wished she could be just about anywhere else.
“This is going to be a fun one,” Shelley muttered, drawing her light jacket closed a little tighter over her dress.
Zoe, who had not even brought a jacket, was inclined to agree. She was supposed to be talking with John right about now, discussing the future of their relationship and perhaps making decisions that would have given her enough happiness to last a long while. Instead, she and Shelley were about to walk through a whole building full of their colleagues in evening wear and makeup, which sounded just a tiny bit like Zoe’s idea of hell.
They were only just in through the doors, waiting for the lift to come, when the first comment was made. Johnson, an agent with a smart mouth on him at the best of times, was swaggering down the corridor toward them. “Hot date, ladies?” he asked, pointing a gun-finger at them. “Good to see you two finally admitting your urges.”
Shelley rolled her eyes. “I’m happily married, Johnson. To a man.”
“Oh,” Johnson said, feigning shock. “I wasn’t expecting such homophobia from the Bureau’s crack female duo.”
“I’m not homophobic, I’m just—” Shelley sighed, closing her eyes for a moment before continuing in a calmer tone. “Not a lesbian. And Johnson? Do me a favor and bite me.”
Zoe half-smiled. While it wasn’t fun to be ribbed by their colleagues, especially when she didn’t understand the references and undertones half of the time, it was kind of fun to see Shelley get flustered by something. It made a change, and while Zoe didn’t exactly want Shelley to feel bad, it was a nice reminder that they were both human.
With catcalls and comments about everything from their shoes to their hair trailing them like the contrail behind a pair of jets, they finally made it to the door of SAIC Maitland’s office. Shelley took a moment, straightening her shoulders and pushing a loose strand of hair over her shoulder, before knocking.
“Enter.”
The man’s booming voice was as much a factor in his intimidating presence as his size. At six foot three, Leo Maitland was more than just tall—he was also wide, with fifteen-inch biceps that belied his age. The graying hair at his temples was the only thing pointing to the fact that he was in his mid-forties, with his straight military posture as intact as it had been when he first came out of the army.
“Sir,” Zoe and Shelley said, almost in unison. He was the one who had called them there. They knew better than to start in on unnecessary small talk. The Special Agent in Charge of the Washington, D.C. branch was a busy man, and his time was precious.
SAIC Maitland continued looking over a piece of paperwork for a few moments, frowning as he concentrated, before signing it with a flourish and putting it to one side. “Agents Prime and Rose,” he said, sifting through an overflowing tray on his desk to pull out a file. “I have a feeling you’re going to like this one.”
Zoe frowned. Like a murder case? That seemed unlikely, unless the killer was suffocating his victims in cotton candy, and all the clues required vigorous taste-testing. “Sir?” she asked, dubiously.
“That was sarcasm, Agent Prime,” he said, his face not cracking a smile. He was holding the file out in one outstretched arm. “Is one of you going to take this, or have you both developed paralysis?”
Shelley sprang forward, taking the case from his hand. “Sorry, sir.”
“About this case. Your plane is scheduled for four hours from now,” he said, pressing on as if nothing had happened. “Your tickets are inside the file. It was the soonest we could get you booked out to Nebraska.”
The word ran through Zoe’s spine like a bolt of lightning. Nebraska. Her state of birth. Not that it meant anything—it was a big place. They weren’t likely to be anywhere close to where she grew up.
“Two women within the last two days found beheaded. Sounds like it’s shaping up to be a serial case, so we need you on the ground as soon as possible. Sorry for the red-eye, but you’ll hit town in the early morning and be able to liaise with the local PD as soon as you arrive,” Maitland continued. “We have two different kill sites in two different towns, so it’s possible the perpetrator may be traveling. You need to get this shut down as quickly as possible. We don’t want him traveling out of state and vanishing.”
Shelley was leafing through the file, and she winced at some photographs. Zoe, leaning over her shoulder, caught sight of a considerable blood spray before Shelley turned the page.
“We’ll try our best, sir,” Shelley said, her voice slightly distant, her mind already focused on the file.
“Don’t try your best,” Maitland said darkly. “There’s going to be a lot of press attention on this. Get it solved. Before the whole thing turns into a circus, and I have to explain to our boss why we have a spiraling body count in front of the world’s cameras.”
***
Zoe held the phone in one hand, trying to balance it against her neck so that she could fold clothes as she spoke. “I really am sorry,” she said. “It looks like we may be away a few days at least.”
“I knew what I was getting into when we went on our first date,” John’s voice came from the receiver, his tone light and amused. “It’s fine. Save the world. I’ll be here when you get back.”
Zoe chewed on her lip absently, finishing the last of her clothes and walking quickly to the bathroom to grab her traveling toiletries kit. Her voice echoed off the tile when she spoke. “I hate that I keep having to cut our dates short,” she said. “Tonight was fun.”
“It was,” John said, just before his voice slipped into something a little silkier. “I was looking forward to driving you home. That dress of yours—I appreciated it very much.”
Zoe glanced at the red fabric now discarded on top of her bed, and a little thrill pooled in the bottom of her stomach at his words. She tossed the toiletries into her suitcase, casting around for what else need to go in. “Maybe I’ll wear it again for you when I get back.” Shoes—she threw open the door of her closet and pulled out a spare pair of shoes, just in case the ones she was wearing became uncomfortable.
“I’d like that.” John’s voice shifted again, this time toward a more serious tone. “Actually, I’d like it if we could have a talk when you’re home again.”