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Closing the door behind us, I flip the blinds down. Then turning toward my desk, I balk at seeing Sadie seated in my chair. “What are you doing here?”
I don’t mean it to come out as asinine as it does, but as she’s used to my bullshit, she just smirks. “You told me to catch up, remember? And I was getting further on your research until this happened.” She turns the laptop screen toward us. “This is the second broadcast. Wexler is fuming.” She glances between Avery and me. “And he’s really pissed that Avery wasn’t brought in right away.”
I’m sure that’s an understatement. The captain will have my badge before the end of the day. I dented up my car pretty good and ordered Sadie to shoot at a van in open traffic. And after everything that happened this morning…I won’t even argue.
“But I was able to calm him down,” she continues. “I told him that Avery needed to recover. He doesn’t like it, but he’s more focused on the recovery of other possible abductees.” A faint smile breaks across her strained features. “I think I saved your badge. For now.”
“Thanks,” I say, knowing I owe Sadie more than that.
She shrugs. “What are partners for?”
My mind flashes back to the hospital the night of Avery’s rescue, when I told Sadie something similar. “Were you able to get anything out of the perps?”
She shakes her head. “They’re in holding. Can’t touch them until after the bond hearing.”
Fuck. “I’m sick of this red tape shit. And now any investigation into Maddox is going to be impeded.”
“Not to mention how bad it will look going after a lawyer running for the DA’s office,” she says. “Wexler’s going to order us to lay low until we find evidence on him that’s not circumstantial. We don’t have anything, Quinn.”
“Hell,” I scoff. “Even if he’s not our guy, he’s involved in this shit storm somehow.”
As Sadie stands to embrace Avery, I give them privacy to talk amongst themselves and locate a statement report. Then, clearing my throat, I hand the paperwork to Sadie. “Do you think you can help walk her through it?”
She nods assuredly. “Of course.”
As Avery and Sadie go over the events of yesterday, working out Avery’s statement and hopefully finding some leads to open an investigation into Maddox, I hit a key on the laptop to play back the news report. Taking a seat at my desk, I turn up the volume.
“The cryptic instructions soliciting the abduction of one of Arlington’s lead pathologists went viral after it was leaked over the Internet this morning,” the woman news anchor says. “Authorities have issued no statement, however, on the condition of Medical Examiner Avery Johnson, although our inside sources confirm she’s alive and recovering.”
“Inside sources,” I mock.
This snags Sadie’s attention and she looks at me. “Only someone in this department could’ve known, Quinn.”
I hate that she’s right.
“The leaked missive held detailed information on Johnson’s whereabouts. Though dictated in a form of code, specialists have been able to decipher the signature”—the screen transitions to show the missive in question—“which has been identified as an emblematic signature for an underground crime ring known as the Alpha-Omega network.”
“Shit.” My adrenaline spikes as I recognize the design at the bottom of the letter. The same design branded on our vics. Jesus, these press assholes better not get ahold of our lead. If the media gets wind of other women captives, it will turn this investigation into a circus.
The anchor’s face reappears on the screen. “Two suspects have been arrested and are being detained for further questioning in connection to Johnson’s abduction. This was not the first time Johnson was targeted amid an ongoing criminal investigation, however.” As the news anchor recounts Avery’s captivity, I lower the volume, hoping to spare Avery the heartless recap of her own painful memories regurgitated over the Internet.
“The recent attack on Johnson follows closely behind two deaths which are currently under investigation,” she continues, and both women move closer to the desk. “Could the deaths of Marcy Beloff and Lauren Carter, who were presumed dead due to suspicious circumstances, be tied to the Alpha-Omega network? And are the two suspects in question responsible for trying to silence the medical examiner who may have that answer? No further information has been—”
I kill the feed, my temper rising. Closing my eyes, I massage the sudden pain throbbing at my temples. “How the fuck does the media have an ID on the second vic before we do?”
“That signature,” Avery says, her soft voice a soothing balm to my blistering thoughts. “It’s almost identical to the brand on the vics. Quinn, in the lab yesterday, the men who took me forced me to change the COD reports on the victims to accidents. I was given the second vic’s name to record. I’m not sure how it was leaked…but is this really connected to some crime organization? That just seems so…”
“Convoluted,” Sadie supplies.
My irritation flares before I can rein it in. “Why didn’t you mention the COD reports before?”
Avery’s gaze narrows on me. “A lot has happened in the past twenty-four hours,” she snaps, but I can hear the hurt behind her anger.
“I’m sorry. It slipped my mind until now. I’ll add it to my statement, of course.”
I’m an asshole. I was busy getting my rocks off…and now I’m victim blaming? Fuck. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.” I hold her gaze, trying to convey that I regret nothing that happened between us.
Sadie scans both our faces in turn, her eyebrow craned in question, but she sidelines her interrogation for now. I know it’s coming later, though. Damn profilers.
