CHAPTER NINE
David Hunter sat in the parking lot of the FBI’s Dallas Field Office, watching Emmie Valencia make her way to her car.
Emmie Valencia was the receptionist, and clearly, a woman without a life. Though she’d long since passed retirement age, she still came in every day, like clockwork, and stayed for at least twelve hours. The woman was a machine.
She also knew everyone’s comings and goings, which was why David had to wait for her to leave before he could go inside. Pembroke had put him on leave, and that’s where he needed to stay—away from the office.
And yet, he couldn’t. Pembroke’s car wasn’t in the lot, and in fact, there were only a few remaining cars. As he watched Emmie navigate to the exit in her giant Buick, he decided this was his chance.
He quickly jumped out of
