See Her Scream (A Mia North FBI Suspense Thriller—Book Three)

CHAPTER ONE David Hunter shifted uneasily in his desk chair. He knew it would be easy enough to get the g*n Mia North wanted, almost too easy. But he also knew that it was absolutely going to get him in some boiling hot water if he got caught. Enough to ruin his life completely. From the moment he’d gone into headquarters, that morning, he was on high alert. There were hundreds of unmarked guns in the depository. Any agent could go in and help himself. But until that day, the thought had been out of the question in his mind. FBI agents were sworn to a code of ethics. And it was that code of ethics they were held to. The FBI trusted him not to screw around. And until Mia North had escaped from prison, he’d trusted himself, too. Mia North, his former partner, was a wanted fugitive who’d been on the run for the better part of a month. She’d been arrested for a murder that she insisted she hadn’t committed. The whole country, and now the U.S. Marshals, were looking for her. She was his friend. His confidant. And he’d already screwed her once, giving the testimony that put her in prison. And the more she kept insisting that she was innocent . . . the more he’d begun to believe she might be right. That powerful senate candidate Wilson Andrews had set her up to get her out of the way, since she’d been after his serial killer brother, Jerry. Too many strange things had happened since, and it all resulted in her communicating to him that she needed a g*n if she was ever going to prove her innocence. But the second he had the g*n in his hand, something in him had shifted. Until that moment, he’d been proud of his work as a federal agent. The moment he placed the g*n in his pocket, he crossed a line he’d been straddling, and was now firmly on the wrong side of the law. Just like she was. And with every step he took away from that storage room, he felt worse and worse. Like he was endangering everything that meant something to him. For what? Because right is right, he told himself. And Mia deserves this chance. Now, in his cubicle, he faced the imposing form of U.S. Marshal Kane Wilcox. He’d been just about to put the g*n into his briefcase when the agent cornered him. Now, Wilcox sat across from him, his feet up on the desk, looking like he owned the place. And maybe he did. The jerk had been slowly weaseling his way into the Dallas Fort Worth police force, and what was even more unbelievable was that Lieutenant Briggs, who seemed to have an aversion to all Feds, had actually let him. Hunter’s pulse pounded under his collar as he closed his briefcase, still feeling the g*n burning a hole in his pocket. He gritted his teeth and leveled his gaze at the Marshal, who’d just accused him of exactly what he’d been doing—helping Mia North. “I don’t know what you’re getting at.” “Well, I still think back to that night. How your prime suspect was laid out for you, so nicely like that. Whoever did it might as well have left you a greeting card.” Hunter lowered his gaze to his blotter. “And?” “And,” he said, leaning forward and smirking. “I think you know who did it.” Of course, he did. It was all Mia. Mia had been in the background, laying low. But she was instrumental in finding the last killer. Without her know-how and grit, the case would’ve still been confusing the hell out of the Dallas Fort Worth PD. He’d kept it quiet, pretended like it was all his work. And this was the thanks he got? He shrugged. “I think you’re wrong.” “That’s funny. Because I just got back from the lab and it’s like I thought. Your partner’s fingerprints and blood samples are all over that house. On the knife. On the floor. On the suspect. Everywhere.” He froze. They’d gotten their woman, and she’d confessed. Open and shut case. No need for lab tests. “I didn’t order any—” “Yeah. I did.” His smile widened. “Last I checked, this wasn’t your case. What authorization do you have to—” “Believe me, it’s all in order.” Somehow, he’d been anticipating this. He’d seen the way the Marshal had stalked about the place. He’d watched him crouch in front of the blood, staring at it with great interest. He should’ve known he’d have collected those samples. “Fine. Well,” he began, ready to tell him he had no idea what it meant. “Like I said, I never—” Wilcox slammed his fists down on the desk. “You knew Mia was there because she called you. When we were in the interrogation room with Donovan, you received a phone call. From her. Admit it.” He sucked in a breath. “I’ll admit no such thing. Can you please leave my—" “No, Hunter.” He looked up. His boss, Special Agent in Charge Pembroke of the Dallas Field Office, was standing in the doorway. He stepped in and closed the door. David Hunter’s stomach dropped. “I think this is something you need to answer for, Agent,” Pembroke said, crossing his arms. “Are you helping Mia North?” He sat there, both answers, yes and no, hovering on his lips. He could tell the truth, and get in some trouble. Maybe lose his job. Lie, and down the road, he’d end up in prison. Every option sucked. For him, and for his son, Louie. So he said nothing. Agent Pembroke leaned in more. “Answer, me, Agent. If there’s anything you want to tell us, now is the time.” He felt a bead of sweat trickle down his ribcage. He did his best to meet his supervisor’s eyes, to not flinch. Then he said, as calmly as he could, “I already told you. She called me once when she was in prison, and that’s the last time I spoke to her. I have not seen or heard from Mia since her escape.” Pembroke glanced at Wilcox, who stared David Hunter down with ice-blue eyes, unblinking. The man was all hard edges and angles, and probably had never smiled a day in his fifty-some years. His expression said everything: Bullshit. Hunter matched it with a shrug. “Whatever you’re fishing for, Agent, I can’t help you.” Pembroke nodded. “There, you see? Let’s give up this charade. Hunter’s never given anyone reason to doubt him. So instead of beating this dead horse, let’s put some more bodies into tracking—” Wilcox reached into his jacket and slapped something down on the desk. When he removed his hand, a deep feeling of dread engulfed David Hunter. “You know what this is?” Hunter rolled his eyes. “Of course I do. It’s a warrant.” He lifted it and read it. “To search my house.” Wilcox watched him carefully. “And?” He shrugged and tossed it down, feigning disinterest. “And what?” “And the Dallas Fort Worth Police are in the process of executing it right now.” He leaned forward. “Does that concern you?” “Should it?” He already knew the answer. Yes. The moment he saw the warrant, his mind had gone cycling through every room of his house. He had the burner phone he used to communicate with her on his person, the g*n in the pocket of his blazer. He destroyed everything else. He didn’t think he’d left any evidence of his interactions with Mia around his house. But what if he had? They’d try to connect even the smallest thing to her, and it’d put him in the same place Mia had been, a month ago . . . He couldn’t worry about that, now. He had to stay cool. Miraculously, Wilcox did something Hunter hadn’t expected. He broke his gaze, shook his head, and ran a hand through his scrubby military haircut. “We’ll see,” he growled. “And if we find so much as a post-it note, tying you to Mia, your a*s is grass.” He snorted. “Well, good luck proving that in court. Because Mia and I were partners for three years. I have lots of stuff with her name on it in my house.” Wilcox gave him a hard sneer, spun, and stalked out of the office, leaving him alone with Pembroke. Special Agent in Charge Pembroke was a good guy. A hardass, but even and fair. Pembroke might have liked Mia better than him, but he still looked after his people with the care of a mother hen. When Wilcox was gone, he slid into the chair across from him, shaking his head and sighing loudly. Her dragged his hands down his face. “Some day, huh?” “Tell me about it,” he said, relaxing a little. “They’re not going to find anything, boss.” He waved that away. “Of course they’re not. But let them have their fun.” Hunter stared at him. His supervisor looked absolutely beaten, ten years older, as if this ordeal had taken a huge toll on him. Pembroke was a tiger—he liked to fight. He’d have had no problem getting the kibosh put on this, if he wanted. He’d have run it straight up the ranks, making sure everyone in charge knew it was a waste of time and resources. So that meant only one thing. Pembroke wasn’t saying so. He’d never say so. But he believed there was a kernel of truth to their accusations. “Look,” he said in an uncharacteristically quiet voice, lacing his fingers in front of him. “I need to talk to you about something.” Hunter leaned forward. As he did, he felt the hard side of the g*n in his pocket, bang against the front of the desk. Whatever his boss was about to say, he knew it was nothing good. “Yeah?” “I spoke with the Dees today.” FBI Director John Dees, out of D.C., Pembroke’s boss. The big man. In the FBI, the buck stopped with him. Hunter had never met him—he wasn’t important enough to even be on his radar. At least, he’d thought. Now, he got the feeling he was on the FBI Director’s radar, and not for a very good reason. “Why?” he asked, stiffening. “Well, David, we’ve agreed that it makes sense that you take a leave of absence,” he said, averting his eyes. “For your protection.” He gritted his teeth. “Protection?” “Yeah. It’s going to get pretty ugly here before it gets better, so I think that it makes sense you’re not anywhere near here. Obviously, it’ll be paid, and only temporary,” he said giving him a thumbs-up. “You’re a good agent. We wouldn’t want to lose you.” “And forcing me out of the office is the way to do that? What am I supposed to do about my caseload?” “Anderson will fill in while you’re out.” He managed a tight smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Anderson? He’s a dinosaur! He doesn’t even—" “He knows enough. And he’s been on the force longer than you have. Before you came on, he worked with her.” He studied David for a moment and the smile widened. “Really, with all the press and s**t flying around here, consider it a blessing.” A blessing? What the hell? Hadn’t he proven how much he loved this job? How much he’d rather be here, than anywhere else? He hadn’t worked and clawed for this position, going through rounds of applications and interviews and the academy, just to sit home on his a*s all day. He’d sacrificed his marriage because of his dedication to the job. It wasn’t just his livelihood. It was his life. And now, he felt like he’d just been shoved out of an airplane without a parachute. This was no blessing, that was for damn sure. “But what if I—” “Hunter,” he said, in a tone that made it clear this wasn’t up for discussion. “You’ll be expected to vacate the office immediately.” Yet another indication that this wasn’t just a happy little vacation. He felt like a criminal himself as his boss knocked on his desk, stood up, and vacated his cubicle without another word. David looked around the four gray walls of his little home away from home, and shook his head. His face steamed. He pulled on his collar. He tried to tell himself that this was a good thing, that he’d have more time with Louie, his son. But he sure as hell didn’t feel good. Because though they were framing it as a good thing, he knew the powers that be would be watching him like a hawk. And he felt even worse when he stood up and his hand hit against the g*n in his pocket. The g*n he’d stolen from his employer, to give to a wanted fugitive. It was too late to try to put it back. And he’d promised her, because he knew she needed it. He’d have to find some way to get it into Mia North’s hands. But how could he, now?