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“I couldn’t say. I’ll put it in the system, and tag the lead investigator on the case. I would say in the next day or two. Probably tomorrow, it depends on their workload. They’ll identify themselves with badges and photo ID.”
“So not today?”
“Possibly late this afternoon, more likely tomorrow or Friday.”
“I work tomorrow. Eight in the morning, a twelve-hour shift.”
She heard clicking over the phone, typing on a keyboard.
“The main hospital, emergency room?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve made a note of your schedule. Please don’t worry, Ms. Johns. If you feel unsafe or threatened, contact 911.”
“That’s it?”
“For now.”
Jenna thanked her, though Agent Wexford had not been much help, and Jenna still didn’t knowwhatshe should do. Would the Marshals office give her the same runaround?
What if whoever killed Tommy thoughtsheknew something? She didn’t want to go home...but she didn’t want to stay here, either. She couldn’t stay with her grandma. Jenna could sleep on her couch, but then Grams would ask why, and Jenna didn’t want to worry her.
First things first. Visit Grams. Relax.Think.Likely the FBI agents would be coming to her work tomorrow, which made her feel a bit better. Not just because she could show them in person that she wasn’t some lunatic, but she could show them the emails and text messages that she and Tommy had exchanged, to prove she wasn’t a paranoid twenty-something idiot. There were also people there at the hospital, she’d feel a lot safer. Friends, colleagues, security.
Lance.
How could she have forgotten that Lance was coming over for dinner tonight!
She really didn’t want to bring him into her problems, but maybe—maybe—talking to him about this would help. Lance was smart and clearheaded.
She texted Lance to confirm dinner.
He responded:Who’s this?
Jenna. Sorry, temporary phone. Dinner?
Lance said:Yep! 6:30 ok?
He’d also included an emoji, but it came through on the little flip phone as an asterisk and line. She really needed her smart phone back.
Great, she replied.
She felt a million times better just knowing that Lance was coming over. First Grams, then she’d go shopping, then home in plenty of time to whip something up. She loved cooking, but not just for herself, so this would be fun.
If she could only get rid of this awful feeling that something was very, very wrong.
Every call into the FBI was logged and catalogued. Every case had a unique identifier, and every action on a case was attached to that unique identifier.
So when Special Agent Natalie Wexford pulled up the Thomas V. Granger homicide investigation and logged her conversation with the potential witness, Jennifer Jeanne Johns, everything Jenna said to the agent, as well as her up-to-date contact information, was in the file.
Including an internal push to the office manager to schedule two agents to interview Ms. Johns: priority low. Copied into the routing was the agent in charge of the investigation, supervisory special agent Lillian O’Dare.
Wexford doubted the woman had anything more to add to the conversation, but in a case like this, an in-person interview was nevertheless warranted. Unfortunately they were short-staffed and for this particular case they had pulled four agents to review all of Deputy Granger’s past cases and threats. The US Marshals office had wanted to take the case but the FBI reminded them that the FBI was the primary investigative unit and thus solving Tom Granger’s murder fell to the FBI.
Once Wexford finished updating the information, she returned to the other calls. She wasn’t working the hotline as the intake agent, but instead reviewed all calls to determine what was potentially viable and what was irrelevant. Multiple pranks, the habitual confessor, several nosy citizens who knew nothing but wanted information. One potential witness—a neighbor who may have seen the suspect’s vehicle in the neighborhood the day before the murder—Wexford automatically forwarded all information to the field agents for follow-up.
Now, back to the calls. She sighed, stretched, rolled out her neck. She really detested this part of the job.
