Patrick nodded. “She’s scared to death. Though there is something behind her fear. She just might break. I’d hold on to her tonight, then have someone let it slip she might be going into the general population. Which would be too bad. If others think she did talk, that might frighten her into believing she needs our help. And she was lying; she recognized that drawing.”
“The drawing isn’t Ayers,” Angela said.
“Not as we see him now,” Patrick said. “If Ayers is John Smith, he plays it safe. He makes sure he’s nothing like his usual self. The drawing could be him—all he had to do was use some putty, stage makeup, change his hair... He could do anything he wanted. Until he got too cocky and was caught.”
“But is it possible? That he’s pulling strings while incarcerated?” Angela posed.
“If so, we have to find out how,” Jackson said. “Damned magician. We’ll need to keep close tabs on Marie. She might not know everything, but she could know enough to give us something. Patrick, thank you. You’ll stay on this?” Jackson asked.
“I promised Alfie.”
“I love consultants,” Jackson said, grinning.
“And I hope to hell I prove worthy,” Patrick said.
“It was your move that got the troops out,” Jackson said. “So many saved from possible death or lives of servitude. Of course, the congressman—tough as he can be during his campaign speeches—was in tears over getting his daughter back. All in all, it was a good day.”
“I just wish—” Jordan started before breaking off.
“You wish we could have found Susie?” Patrick said.
She nodded. “Every life is equally important,” she said. “And I still wish we could find her for Alfie. He’s done so much for all of us.”
“We won’t stop looking for her. If we can break any of this wide open, well, we may be on to something and it all relates back,” Jackson said.
“Where is Alfie, anyway?” Patrick asked, frowning.
“He’s with the police and social services. They’re trying to make sure we separate the good guys from the bad, probably also hoping for some intel we can use. The problem is, those held captive don’t know much beyond how they were taken—and how they were kept. Marie and the few captors who were shot but didn’t die are our best bet for information. Alfie can go where we can’t, so he might learn something.” He looked at Jordan, nodding a bit grimly. “My office?” he asked.
She nodded. She was afraid Jackson was going to put her on desk duty. He probably felt she’d made the wrong moves that day.
Except he’d allowed her into the building—and she had managed to catch Marie Donnell before the woman could slip away.
Patrick Law headed for the door. She was surprised when he turned back and looked at her.
“It all turned out okay,” he said quietly. And she thought he smiled. That his words maybe meant more than he was saying. He gazed at Jackson, adding, “Krewe are special—in so many ways.”
“We need you. You could join anytime as more than a consultant, if you’re willing to go through the academy,” Jackson told him. “You’re more than a little special yourself.”
Patrick laughed. “That can be taken many ways. Anyway, I’m here. I’ll be here; I’m helping Megan compile everything she can dig up on Alfie’s case.”
“Thank you again,” Jackson said.
Then Patrick was gone. Jackson shrugged. “We don’t really need to go to my office; I just wanted to tell you—”
“I know. I’m sorry. I did put myself in a position—”
“As it happened, the day went well. And I understand what you were trying to do, and who the hell would expect what did happen?” Jackson said. “But—no more. No undercover without a partner, without backup, someone on observation at the least—”
“Alfie was—”
“Someone living. The dead can’t make emergency calls,” Jackson said firmly. “But that’s my department, and I’ll work on it. Anyway, it’s been one hell of a long day. Go home. Get some sleep. All in all, a hell of a long day, but a good day. Not an officer or agent was killed and only a few suffered minor injuries. A lot of people were rescued. Get some sleep.”
“Thank you,” Jordan said, trying not to show just how relieved she felt. “Oh, I don’t have my car. It’s at the hotel.”
“We’ll get you to it. I can’t leave yet, but we have a few agents still here. We’ll get you a ride home.”
Jackson opened the door, and as he followed her out, she turned and asked, “Do you believe everything Patrick Law says because he’s a psychiatrist?”
He smiled and said, “Because he’s a Law. They have special talents—he has a way of practically seeing into the human mind. Anyway, looks like he’s still here. Talking to Bruce McFadden. Hey, Patrick, Bruce, can one of you drop Jordan off at her place?” he asked.
“If she can wait a few minutes—” Bruce McFadden began.
“I’m going now,” Patrick said. “If you’re ready, I’ll drop you.”
Jordan forced a smile. She wasn’t sure she wanted to spend any more time with Patrick Law that day.
That had to be it; he had been caring for the female victim, but somehow, he’d seen the mind of the man who was about to reach for his weapon!
A ride home. She could handle that.
She saw him smile. Surely, he knew she’d prefer a ride from just about anyone else in the world.
“Yes, I’m ready. Thank you,” she said flatly.
He nodded to Jackson, and they left the offices and walked into the parking garage.
Two
“I’ll get you home, safe and sound,” Patrick said, smiling at Jordan as she slid into the passenger’s seat.
She gave him a very pleasant—and very fake—smile.
He realized he’d come down hard on her. And maybe that was good.
But maybe it had been unfair. Because if they had gotten her inside the warehouse, there might not have been a way out. But she had still risked her life—and inadvertently risked the lives of others—through her actions, even if she’d found herself between a rock and a hard place.
Patrick wasn’t sure why he was so drawn to the story Sergeant Alfie Parker had given them, but there had been something in the ghost’s words that haunted him more than any ghost had ever managed. Alfie deserved justice.