Foyle leaned into the room. “Agent Tate, I have to apologize, but Agent Crawford has not shown up and is unreachable.”
Feigning annoyance, Laura gathered her files. “I will deal with her through InterSec then. When she arrives, tell her to call my office for an appointment.”
Foyle accompanied her to the elevator. “Did everything go well?”
She watched the floor numbers counting down toward her. “They were acceptable initial meetings. I’ll review the other investigative reports and get back to you if need be.”
The elevator opened, and Laura stepped forward. Foyle touched her arm. She looked down at his hand, mildly surprised. “Agent Tate, I would appreciate it if you got back to me either way. I need answers.”
His tone was sincere and matched what Laura was sensing. “I will, Captain. We all want answers.”
A black car waited outside as planned. She didn’t know the driver, so she chanted a sound barrier around her. Guildhouse drivers were used to the behavior and didn’t consider it rude.
“Gianni shot me,” said Laura when Terryn answered her call.
“Your memory has returned?” Terryn didn’t sound surprised. He absorbed everything with a calm professionalism that sometimes irritated Laura. She wished he would scream in frustration just once in her presence. He and his clan had seen kingdoms rise and fall. A cop shooting another cop apparently didn’t faze him.
She noticed a brown shopping bag in the corner of the seat and pulled it toward her. Lunch from Liam. “No. I noticed that the mission reports were vague about when Foyle, Gianni, and Sinclair arrived at the room Sanchez and I were in. All three claim they arrived after the other two. Gianni was the only one who clearly registered as lying.”
“If he shot Sanchez, why didn’t he shoot you at the same time?”
Laura considered the scenario. “I don’t think he had a clear line of sight on me until I joined Sanchez. There was a firefight going on. Sanchez was shooting at the door right up to the end. Gianni would have had to take cover from both Sanchez and the drug dealers.”
“Should we pull him in?”
She withdrew a bottle of springwater from the bag. “Not yet. If we pull him in because I sensed he was lying, he’ll think I’m bluffing. I don’t want to tip my empathic ability.”
“He shot you, Laura. Are you comfortable with him getting away with that?”
Even if Terryn couldn’t see her, he had to notice the sly challenge in her voice. “Oh, he’s not going to get away with anything. I want to know why he shot me. I’m going to tail him personally.”
“Another job is the last thing you need. Let’s get a junior operative to tail him,” he said.
She took a swig of the water. “It’s all the same job, Terryn. Just the faces change.”
“Keep me updated,” he said.
“Will do.” She disconnected and removed a boxed lunch from the bag. Starving, she flipped it open. Two small rolled sandwiches of prosciutto with basil and thinly sliced provolone. A small cluster of french fries smelled of truffle oil. She was going to kill Liam for all the salt and starch. But she had asked for “wonderful.”
CHAPTER 13
THE BLACK CAR dropped Laura off a block from the Russell Senate Office Building. The building contained administrative offices and hearing rooms for the Senate as well as senator’s offices and committee rooms. The Senate was known as the world’s most exclusive men’s club, and a stroll through the corridors confirmed it. Laura had been around long enough to remember when senators were all male and women were their secretaries. High-profile secretaries but still secretaries. More women worked in the building than ever before, but men still held the power. Interns in the building joked that they always knew a women was a senator because she didn’t carry files.
Laura had been a sensation in those days. A woman with the power of the Guildhouse behind her demanded-and received-respect. When she was recruited by the forerunner of InterSec, she’d let go of a rising career as a diplomat and was happy to move into public relations for the Guild. She received the exposure to the politics she enjoyed, without the frustrations of all the political backstabbing. She still dealt with those, but it was not her primary job responsibility.
She ducked into an empty restroom. As she washed and dried her hands, she reabsorbed the essence out of the Mariel glamour. Mariel’s face shifted and faded as Laura Blackstone reappeared. She adjusted her outfit, fixed her hair, and made her way to the elevator.
Despite the surprise, Laura didn’t react when the elevator opened and she saw Sinclair standing inside. In the full car, Sinclair rose head and shoulders above the others. The crowd of people edged back to make room for her. Of course, she ended up standing next to him. They bumped and smiled courteously. His essence spiked surprise, too, though he had never met her as Laura Blackstone. He projected an undercurrent of pleasure. She stared down at her shoes trying not to think about it. His emotion shifted, an edge of concern coloring his interest. She wondered what he was thinking but avoided making eye contact.
The doors opened, and they bumped again as they moved to exit.
“Excuse me.” He stepped back to let her go first.
She smiled. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he said. It was. Even without the subtle emphasis he placed on the words, his attraction was evident. He paced a few feet behind her as she walked down the corridor. She resisted the urge to look back but became keenly aware of how she held herself.
When his essence receded behind her, she did look. As he entered a hearing room, her pleasure at his attention faded when the door closed. It was the room where Senator Hornbeck’s Fey Relations Committee was meeting. Confused but intrigued, she continued farther until she reached the hearing room for her fact-finding session on fey homeless shelters. Guildmaster Rhys considered the program one of his pet projects to enhance relations with the human population.
She stopped short. The hearing room was empty. A small sign on the open door announced the meeting had been canceled.
A young, earnest intern smiled at her. “Are you here for the meeting, ma’am?”
She glanced in the empty room again. “I was.”
“It’s being rescheduled for Tuesday. Are you Director Blackstone?”
Laura raised an eyebrow. “Yes.”
The intern handed her a note. “You were the only person we couldn’t reach. I was asked to give this to you.”
In a narrow spidery handwriting it read:
It’s a shame you won’t be able to speak publicly today. It’s unfortunate that you didn’t get the message. I would be flattered if you attended my committee meeting since you have an opening in your schedule.
It was signed S. Hornbeck.
Laura’s PDA vibrated. Despite the desire to, she didn’t crumple the paper. I got the message, you old fox, she thought. She pulled out her cell as she checked the PDA. An urgent message from Saffin flashed:
UR MTG CNCLD, CLL ME!!!
“Did you get my message?” Saffin asked when she answered the cell.
“Just now. What happened?” she asked.
“I’m so sorry. I just got it myself. Everyone canceled.”
“Everyone?”
“Yes. At the last minute, too. All of them. Maybe they went to a party and didn’t invite you,” Saffin said.
Laura glanced up the hall at the closed door to Hornbeck’s conference. “That’s okay. I’ve been invited to my own party.”
Saffin groaned. “It was Hornbeck, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. I was angry a second ago, but now I’m amused. I had to talk to him anyway. Don’t worry about it, Saf. It’s rescheduled for next Tuesday.”