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Was there something in his voice as he said that? A strange note she didn’t really understand?
“We're currently finalizing the last team member,” the director said. “One more call and it’ll be confirmed.”
Juliette nodded, and she got to her feet, feeling a strange mix of excitement and apprehension. She knew that it was a huge responsibility, but she also knew that she was up for this risky change.This was it - the beginning of a new mission, a mission that would take her to the other side of the world. She was ready for the hunt.
And she knew the success or failure of the team would hinge on her ability to track the cunning, cruel, and ruthless Goldenface killer.
CHAPTER THREE
Two hours later, Juliette arrived at JFK, with a laptop bag slung over her shoulder and rolling her suitcase behind her. During the cab ride to the airport, her phone hadn't stopped beeping with information and updates. In just a few minutes, she'd be meeting two other people who were still strangers to her. They would be her critical partners in this new task force deployed to catch the serial killer. Juliette had no idea who they were, beyond their names.
Special Agent Wyatt Thompson was her partner, and Sierra Lowry, who didn't seem to be an FBI agent, was the tech specialist who'd be part of the task force. They'd all introduced themselves to each other via text. Now, they'd meet up in real life at the arranged rendezvous point - a coffee shop in the international departures hall. On the way, she went past the foreign exchange kiosk and exchanged some dollars for euros in preparation for her Paris arrival.
Then, Juliette headed to the coffee shop and, looking around, spotted the man she guessed to be Wyatt. He was sitting alone at a table for four, a rangy, tall, and broad shouldered man with a tanned face and brown hair cropped close to his head. She estimated him to be in his late twenties. He looked fit and lean, and there was a set to his jaw that told her he most probably had strong opinions and was confident in his abilities.
She walked straight up to him, seeing his gaze fix on her as she approached.
"You must be Wyatt?"
"And you're Juliette?" He stood, and she saw him assessing her, his gaze narrowing as he took in her appearance, her blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, her face free from make-up, apart from a touch of tinted ChapStick. She saw him note the small scar on her left hand that she’d gotten more than a decade ago, at the FBI training academy, when she’d fallen from a rope bridge onto a pile of logs. Breaking the fall with her hand had saved her from worse injury, but the cut, from a jutting branch, had taken weeks to heal.
"What's your background?" he asked.
"FBI BAU agent. I've worked with the Bureau for ten years. I have a psychology degree from Oxford University in England. I grew up all over the world, as my dad was a diplomat," she said briefly. Memories of her dad surged. His kind face, his warm eyes, hazel green like hers. She couldn’t bear to think about what had happened to him, that inexplicable, violent tragedy that had set her onto the path of law enforcement as a career. Until then, she’d had dreams of being a career psychologist, nurturing people and guiding them into their chosen life paths.
Well, actually, when she was very young, she wanted to be a woodland princess. Then, for reasons she couldn’t remember, she’d wanted to work with polar bears in the Arctic, and as a teenager she’d longed to become a chef working on superyachts; but over the years, her dad had gently encouraged her into psychology as a career option that would make the best use of her abilities.
After that terrible morning, all her dreams had been shattered, along with so much else. She pushed the memories away, focusing instead on Wyatt.
His eyebrows rose. "Good," he said. "My background is FBI security services. I transferred there from the Army. I've spent three years in the Middle East."
That sounded positive, Juliette thought. They both would have different areas of expertise and knowledge. But then, Wyatt's next comment made her suddenly not so sure.
"I think this unit's long overdue and I hope it can continue beyond this case. My experience of international law enforcement is that they're usually below par. Disorganized, undisciplined, and, of course, corrupt. That's my opinion and I've yet to be proven wrong. We'll bring some order and knowhow to the table." He nodded proudly.
Juliette gave a tight smile, but inwardly she was cringing. This set of preconceptions was not going to get Wyatt off on the right foot, with anyone. Herself included. Ebury had emphasized the delicacy of the relationships and the need for diplomacy.
It seemed Wyatt had all the diplomacy of a charging buffalo, and now she understood why her boss had appeared dubious about him.
"I think it's important to be aware of the differences between our culture and others, and to make sure we are respectful of the host country's laws and protocols. We need to welcome expertise where we can get it. That's how we'll be able to get the most out of any investigation."
She smiled, to take the sting out of her words, but it seemed that her hint went straight over Wyatt's head.
"Absolutely. Coffee?" he asked, waving for the waitress.
"Sure," she said.
As they placed their orders, the third member of their team arrived. Juliette had a jolt of surprise as she saw her.
Sierra looked just out of her teens, if that. She was a petite woman, with a mop of dark curls framing her face. Among them was a bright pink streak. Her eyes were sharp and intelligent. She wore a leather jacket and had a backpack slung over her shoulder.
"Are you the FBI agents?" she asked. "I'm Sierra, the tech specialist for this mission."
"We are," Wyatt said, his voice a little gruff. "Wyatt Thompson."
Juliette smiled. Once she'd gotten over her surprise at Sierra's young age, she was taking in her air of competence which was far more important than years alone. "It's great to meet you Sierra. I'm Juliette Hart."
"It's a pleasure to meet you both," Sierra said.
