CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
Reid got into his car in the CIA parking deck and just sat there a moment with his hands on the steering wheel. His limbs ached. His forearm hurt where he’d nearly been shot, and his chest hurt where he’d nearly been stabbed. Both spots were badly bruised, particularly his arm, which was swollen and dark purple. He had so much running through his head that he feared his skull might split in two.
The debriefing with Riker had lasted two and a half hours. It had started out well enough—a call from President Pierson to personally thank and congratulate Agent Steele on a job well done—but immediately following that was a thorough grilling from Ashleigh Riker. He painstakingly detailed the entire ordeal twice to her, only to circle back around to Agent Carver’s bizarre att
