Page 14 of Forever Gone

“Undoubtedly.”

Selena started along the main corridor. Classroom doors stood open on either side, revealing old desks, stacked chairs, and chalkboards scarred by years of writing and erasure. Fine gray powder dulled the floor near the walls. A line of hooks remained outside one room, some still labeled with strips of yellowed tape.

“That’ll come,” Selena said. “He’ll make a move.”

“We’re counting on it.”

Connor entered her thoughts without invitation.

He had compromised himself with noble intentions. Six thousand dollars paid to Walton Morimer in exchange for information to help Connor find the person who killed two of his friends. Then Morimer’s men had delivered Marlene Schmidt to the sheriff as if returning misplaced property. Connor had admitted the payment, but only after Selena cornered him with the truth. He had called it a desperate decision made for Victor Schmidt, one of his best friends.

Morimer had called it the beginning of a debt. In the end, Marlene was not even the killer.

The FBI did not know Connor had compromised himself. Selena had kept that detail out of her report, telling herself that the money had not affected the case and that exposing him would damage an already strained investigation.

The reasoning felt thinner each time she repeated it.

If Morimer collected that debt with blackmail, forcing him to do anything illegal, Connor might not tell her. Pride would keep him quiet until the situation became impossible to contain.

Meg said, “You still there?”

“Yes.”

Another pause. “Is there something going on?”

Selena passed beneath a ceiling tile stained by an old leak.

“No.”

The answer lodged between them.

Meg had known Selena too long to miss a hesitation. Still, she did not press.

“I’d better go,” Meg said. “I’m due in a meeting, and I’ve already ignored two people waving at me through glass.”

“Sounds serious.”

“It’s budgets. People become territorial when you mention taking away office chairs.”

“Send me some. I’ve got four desks and two chairs. But first, give me the people to fill them.”

“I’ll add it to the list. Let me know if you need anything.”

Selena glanced along the deserted corridor.

“Sure thing. Just please get me some help around here. Another couple of agents. Anything.”

“Bye, Selena.”

The call ended.

Without Meg’s voice, the hallway returned to silence.

Selena slipped the phone into her jacket pocket and continued toward the rear wing. Her footsteps carried along the tiled corridor and returned from the stairwell. Three weeks of contractors, delivery crews, and technicians had produced one operational security system, a temperamental internet connection, and an office printer that displayed a paper jam even when its tray was empty.

The first week had been consumed by logistics. Evidence storage needed a lock that met federal standards. The interview room required recording equipment. Local departments wanted to know which cases qualified for referral and whether Selena had authority to cross county lines. Washington sent forms instead of answers. By the second week, she had stopped expecting anyone else to solve the practical problems. She called vendors, met inspectors, carried boxes, and learned which breaker controlled the rear wing.

None of it resembled the work she had returned to Kentucky to do.