Wildcard. Rachel Lee

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СКАЧАТЬ boss,” Jerry said, almost yelling in his ear to be heard above the crowd. “I don’t know where you got that from. But you’d better bottle it for safekeeping.”

      “Thank you, friend,” Grant said.

      “Thank you,” Jerry said. “But the best is yet to come. For all of us.”

      “Let’s hope so.”

      “By the way, boss, there are about two hundred people in the lobby that couldn’t fit in here. You should make your way out there and let them know they’re not on the outside looking in.”

      “Right,” Grant said. “You’re right. Lead the way.”

      “Wasn’t he amazing?” Miriam asked.

      “As always,” Terry said. “If the country doesn’t elect him this fall, they’re passing up one hell of an opportunity.”

      For his part, Tom simply nodded and forced a smile. Yes, Lawrence’s speech had been an effective piece of political rhetoric. Whether it was any more than that remained to be seen. He watched as Lawrence left the stage and waded into the crowd. The man certainly seemed to enjoy people.

      Tom could still remember a time when he’d felt the same. Lately, people were to be avoided. Even here, with Miriam and Terry, he avoided any real contact. Contact only led to betrayal and hurt.

      His thoughts were interrupted by a sound like popping corn, emanating from the television.

      “What the…?” Terry said, looking at the screen.

      “God, no,” Miriam said, eyes wide.

      The camera caught it all in stomach-turning detail. Lawrence’s smile faded in an instant, replaced by a blank look of shock as he slid to the floor. Tom Lawton had seen that look before and didn’t need to hear the reporter’s next words.

      “My God, he’s been shot. Grant Lawrence has been shot!”

      3

      Washington, D.C.

      “I want Tom Lawton on my team,” Miriam said firmly.

      “No,” Kevin Willis replied. “I’m sorry, but no.”

      She gave him a look of disgust and pressed on. “Tom is the smartest investigator I’ve ever worked with. He thinks outside the box. That’s exactly the kind of mind we need on this case.”

      In that sense, she was right. It was all too easy for an agent to fixate on a suspect to the exclusion of other evidence. Kevin knew that as well as anyone in the Bureau. In the mid-nineties, early in his career, he’d been assigned to the Atlanta field office, putting him among the dozens of agents who’d responded to the Centennial Olympic Park bombing. He’d witnessed firsthand the near ruin of an innocent man before investigators finally stepped back to reexamine the evidence.

      Grant Lawrence was a media darling. He had been for years, and the kidnapping of his children had only pushed his star higher in the public consciousness. The firestorm over his shooting was already under way, and there would be pressure for a quick, clean solution to the case. Exactly the kind of conditions under which investigators were most likely to develop tunnel vision.

      So yes, in that sense, Tom Lawton was exactly the kind of agent the Bureau needed on a case like this. But on the other hand, the psych evaluation was clear as day.

      “Look,” Kevin said, “I know you like Tom. You’ve mentored him ever since he joined up. Heck, I worked with him for six months in Dallas before he was sent out to that mess in L.A. I liked him then. I like him still. But the simple fact is, he assaulted his superior. The guy needs plastic surgery, for crying out loud. Did you read Lawton’s psych evaluation? The report is four paragraphs long, and the phrase ‘distrust of authority’ appears four times. He’s on suspension for a reason, Miriam.”

      “Can you blame him?” she asked.

      “Hell no! The way things went down out there, any one of us could be in the same boat. I’d have done the same damn thing he did. But if I use him on this case, the director is going to be stepping all over me.”

      She sighed heavily and nodded reluctantly.

      “I feel for the guy, Miriam. I do. But right now he’s too damn volatile. He needs time to recover. You’re his friend, for crying out loud. You of all people should realize that.”

      She looked away, the hurt evident in her eyes. He hadn’t meant it to come out the way it had, even if it was the truth. But there it was.

      “You’re right,” she said, turning back to him. “He is my friend. I’ve read the reports on L.A. And his psych sheet. But I know Tom Lawton better than anyone. Better than that doctor. Better than you. What he needs is a way to prove to himself that he’s not a screwup. Which you and I both know he’s not.”

      Kevin nodded. He’d never gone through what Lawton had, thank God, but he’d had his share of cases gone bad. After every one, he’d felt exactly what she was saying. He’d wanted to get right back at it. Do it right. Regain his confidence. The Bureau recruited Type A personalities. Goal oriented, driven to excel. The kind of individual for whom failure was almost a worse fate than death.

      But he’d had enough trouble just getting Miriam on the case. She knew Grant Lawrence personally. Like any other law enforcement agency, the FBI had a clear rule about agents who were personally involved with a victim, witness or suspect. They were off the case, period.

      He’d fought for Miriam for the same reason she was fighting for Tom Lawton. He’d mentored her. He knew her capabilities and her limitations. And he knew her well enough to know that she would not stay away from this case, regardless.

      Ultimately, his argument had been simple. Special Agent Miriam Anson was a consummate professional, and if she were on his team, working the case officially, she would exercise professional judgment and restraint. If she were left to pry into the case on her own, she would have fewer inhibitions and might cause more damage. His bosses had bought that argument, with the caveat that she was to work under his personal supervision. And that she would be his responsibility.

      That was good enough, then and now. Except that now she was pushing him out on a limb with Lawton. He could understand it, much as it irritated him.

      “Okay,” he said, “here’s the deal. Tom works with you. No one else. Hell, I doubt there’s anyone else he trusts, anyway. And he’s all you get, for the same reason—I doubt he’d trust anyone else I put with you. He’s your responsibility, Miriam.”

      She nodded. “Fair enough.”

      Kevin looked at his watch. “How soon can you get him in here?”

      “Five minutes. He’s downstairs in the cafeteria.”

      Kevin shook his head, then laughed. “You knew what I was going to say, didn’t you?”

      She didn’t join in the laughter. “You trained me, Kevin. Let’s get to work.”

      Tom was the last person to enter the conference room, and he had no illusions about finding a chair. Instead, he squeezed СКАЧАТЬ