An hour later we sat inside a federal operations center in Lower Manhattan.
The transition felt surreal.
One moment we were trapped inside Rory's apartment.
The next we were moving through secured hallways filled with agents, analysts, attorneys and investigators.
Television screens covered entire walls. Case files occupied every available surface. Phones rang constantly. People moved with purpose.
The atmosphere reminded me of a championship game.
Controlled chaos.
Everybody racing toward the same objective.
The difference was that hockey games usually involved fewer federal crimes.
Lena sat at the center of the room. Looking exactly like Lena. No visible panic. No visible trauma. No visible indication she'd recently been kidn*pped.
She wore a navy blazer. Perfect makeup. Perfec
