"What do you mean help him? Where is he?" she said, confused.
"That's the problem. Nobody knows where he is. Can you help us with this? When did you see him last?" he said, and shifted a little closer to her.
"This morning before work. He left me a message in the morning saying he had to fly to D.C. to meet with one of his company's clients. Something last minute. I was supposed to meet some friends out for drinks after work, but he always calls me, so I got a little worried. I went for a run instead. He must have something big going on at work. He didn't sound like himself," admitted Jessica.
Edwards thought this might be easier than he had expected. She had already given him information that could narrow their search for Petrovich, which surprised him. He had expected her to hold stuff like this from him, but for some reason she didn't hesitate. Maybe their marriage wasn't as solid as all of the pictures might indicate. She was clearly a little pissed that he had taken off without calling, and was willing to give up some general details. When she found out the true scope of his betrayal, he wondered if she might give him up completely. He didn't believe for one second that she didn't know exactly where they could find Petrovich, and now he was willing to bet she would cough him up given the right information about her husband.
"Did he give you any more details?" he said, hoping he might get lucky.
"No. He just said he had to fly unexpectedly to D.C. to meet with…" she said, and stopped cold. "What exactly is he suspected of?" she snapped.
"Jess, he's a prime suspect in the murder of Mohammed Ghani. He was killed last night just a few miles from here in Cape Elizabeth. I was at the scene earlier today, and it wasn't pretty. Whoever killed him knew exactly what they were doing," said Edwards.
"I must be missing something here. How the fuck is my husband a suspect in that?" she said, raising her voice to the point that a few black helmets leaned into the room.
"I wish I could go into that more, but the details are classified for now. I'll say this though," he said, and leaned in close enough to smell her, "and you need to keep it to yourself for now," he whispered.
She nodded quizzically and leaned in further, which drove his senses crazy. He felt a wave of raw physical energy pass through him, and nearly shuddered. Blood started to immediately flow to his groin, and he felt a tingling in his legs as he grew erect. He had to stop this, but he didn't want to move away from her. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to strip her down in bed. He moved back slightly, afraid he might lose control, and regained enough of his senses to continue talking to her. Only a few women had affected him like this before, and he'd enjoyed dominating them in bed. This one would be no exception to Justin's conquests, but first he had some work to do.
"Your husband's name came up on a list of former covert military operatives connected to the murders. Have you seen the news today? Eight prominent Arab businessmen were killed last night," he said, and let this sink in, studying her face for a reaction.
She looked confused for a few seconds, but this changed when she started to speak. "This is crazy. I know my husband, and I can assure you this is a major fuck up. I want everyone out of my house right now!" she yelled, and stood up from the couch.
The two SWAT officers stepped into the room, and Edwards gently placed a hand on her left shoulder.
"Please, Jess. I don't think you fully understand the situation here. We have a warrant for your husband's arrest and to search this house," he said, and she hesitated to sit back down on the couch, looking at him with distrust.
"Special Agent Adams!" he yelled, and heard a muffled acknowledgement.
A few seconds later, a middle aged Caucasian man wearing a blue windbreaker with the letters ‘FBI’ printed across the front in bright yellow letters, appeared from the kitchen area.
"I need the warrant," said Edwards, and the Adams stepped into the room with a black nylon document bag.
He pulled the warrant out, and handed it to Edwards, who dismissed him with his hand. One of the SWAT officers saw the dismissal and mumbled something just loud enough to be heard by the agent in charge.
"I'm sorry. What was that? Officer…?"
"Officer ‘none of your motherfucking business,’" said the serious looking, heavily armed police officer, completely unimpressed with Edwards.
He looked at Jess and shook his head.
"I'm glad my team was here for this. These guys are animals," he said loud enough for the officer to hear him, and she nodded her head slightly, which was a good sign for Edwards.
"Here. Take a few minutes to read through this. I'm afraid there is no mistake."
He sat there fidgeting while she took her time reading the warrant. He glanced nervously at the two openings to the room, looking specifically for the SWAT officers. His hatred for these arrogant animals penetrated his core. They were the same in the FBI. A bunch of gun crazy bullies dressed up in scary body armor, carrying enough weaponry to level a small building. And when they couldn't level doors and buildings, they pushed everyone else around, including the "regular" agents. Edwards had done the research, and discovered that the advent of FBI and local SWAT teams had had no impact on public or law enforcement safety. From what he could tell, the teams just ate up funding and delayed every single investigation involving a possible dangerous suspect. He hated them.
Jessica took close to five minutes to read through the warrant, which seemed like an eternity to Edwards. She handed it back, and he could see tears forming in her exotic brown eyes.
"I still think there's been a serious mistake. Danny served in the Navy, but not on some kind of special squad, or anything like that. He wasn't exactly proud of his service. Felt like it was a waste of time," she said, wiping her eyes.
"I really can't go into details about the source of our information, but I can assure you it is reliable. Look, we're not saying he killed this guy, but his name is closely linked to a group that is most definitely involved in these killings. He needs to come out of hiding, and clear his name…"
"He's not hiding. He's on a business trip," she said, and Edwards sensed that her faith in the statement regarding the business trip might be fading.
"What hotel is he staying in?" asked Edwards.
"I don't know. He hasn't called…and I can't get a hold of him on his cell phone," she muttered.
"Is that normal? Can we try his number?" he said.
"Yes. No. I mean…it's not normal, and sure, you can try his number. It just goes right to voicemail."
"Doesn't that strike you as odd? I'm sorry, Jess, but it's too much of a coincidence for either me or you to ignore. I hope you're right that he's not involved, but frankly, something's up, and we need to get to the bottom of it. This investigation is a matter of national security, and if he can clear some things up for us, I know I can help him out."
She stared at him in shock, and he could see the gravity of the situation weighing down on her. She alternated between despair and courage, but he sensed a shift downward. The spunky Jessica Petrovich he met on the kitchen floor would soon be replaced by a deflated, betrayed woman, ripe for his picking. He needed to get her out of here soon, before these local idiots ruined it for him.
"I'm really confused here. What do I have to do? Do I have to leave my house? How long are these people going to be here?"
"Probably all night…" he started, and his phone buzzed in his front suit pant pocket.
"Give me a second. Sorry about this," he said, and stepped away toward the back window of the house, making sure the SWAT guy kept his distance.
"Special Agent Edwards," he spoke, and listened.
"Negative. The house is clean. I was about to call operations," he said, and found himself listening again.