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"Good morning, Jake," Fiona said into the phone, turning away from her parents' curious gazes.
"Hey, Red," Jake said. His voice was groggy and tired. "Need you to meet me at HQ. We've got a case."
CHAPTER THREE
Fiona hurried toward the briefing room at HQ, eager to find out what they had next. She'd worked on several cases with Jake now, and although she didn't have her gun and badge, she was happy to know that the chief still wanted her in on cases. She knocked on the door, then poked her head in to see the chief behind his desk and Jake sitting across from him.
At the sight of Jake, Fiona's felt her throat close up. She appreciated that he'd helped her arrest Marissa, but there were still so many answers she hadn't given him.
"Ms. Red, good, come in," the chief said, and Fiona bowed into the room and into the chair next to Jake. He offered her a reassuring smile, to which she nodded, her cheeks aflame. "I was just explaining the case to Tucker here," the chief said. "We have one Sharon French, thirty-four, found dead in her Portland home by the plumber, who was on call to her house. When the witness arrived, the door was ajar, and the woman was unconscious. I guess the police thought it might have been a natural death at first until the autopsy came back." The chief's eyes hardened. "She was poisoned."
Fiona took a breath. Poison--what an awful way to go. She felt for Sharon, whoever she was, who had lost her life far too soon. Fiona was only twenty-six herself, and she certainly didn't want to envision losing her life in her thirties. It was far too soon.
"This is the second victim to be found dead from some sort of apparent poison," the chief went on, "so we've been brought in, especially due to the seemingly random nature of these crimes. We have one male, fifties, named Glen Hartwell--he was our first. Then, a week later, Sharon French, thirties. No obvious connection, but that's something for you two to find out."
Fiona's mind raced, already trying to piece together the little bits of information they had. Two victims, both poisoned, both seemingly random. It could be a tough case, but she and Jake had tackled tougher.
"Do we know what they were poisoned with?" Fiona asked.
"That's the thing," the chief said, "there were physical signs that the coroner believes line up with a poisoning, but whatever it is, it's been difficult to identify. Red, preliminary toxicology came up short, so I’d like you on this one with Tucker. We're waiting on further lab results to see if we can get some concrete answers, but I trust you two to get to the bottom of this and fast."
Fiona nodded, feeling a rush of excitement mixed with fear. She didn't want to let the chief down, especially not after how much he was helping with Marissa. More than that, Fiona hated the idea of seeing more people lose their lives just because she wasn't fast enough to solve it.
"We'll get on it, Chief," Jake said, his voice confident.
The chief nodded, his gaze steady on the two of them. "I know you will, Red," he said, his tone firm. "But I want you to be careful. This case is tricky, and I don't want either of you getting hurt. Got it?"
Fiona and Jake both nodded and with that, they were out the door, ready to get to work.
As they walked through the halls of the FBI building, Fiona couldn't help but feel the familiar rush of adrenaline. Solving cases, cracking codes, catching bad guys--it was what she was born to do.
But this case felt different.
As they stepped into the elevator, Fiona turned to Jake, her eyes narrowing. "Two victims, both seemingly poisoned with a difficult-to-identify agent," she said. "What do you think we're dealing with?"
Jake didn't hesitate. "Someone who knows what they're doing," he said. "Who has access to poison and likes to play it safe? Someone who doesn't want to get their hands dirty."
Fiona nodded, impressed. Jake always had a way of seeing through the fog and getting to the heart of a case. "Could be a professional," she said. "Or someone with a background in chemistry, maybe a disgruntled ex-employee of a chemical company."
"Or someone who just likes to kill," Jake added, his tone grim.
Fiona shivered, the thought of a psychopath on the loose making her uneasy. "Let's hope for the former, but be prepared for the latter," she said.
"Agreed. For now, we need to see this crime scene."
***
Something about this case left a bad feeling in Jake's gut--maybe the domestic nature of it or the fact that as he drove toward Sharon French's house, the neighborhood reminded him of his own.
Fiona was in the passenger seat, reading the reports so Jake could focus on driving.
"Sharon lived alone and had no children," she explained. "Although, she did have an ex-fiancé who moved out within the last year."
"Ex-fiancé, huh?" Jake mused. "We'll have to look into him, but considering we've got another victim, he might not have anything to do with it."
Fiona nodded, flipping through the files. "And Glen Hartwell tells a very different story. He was married and had three children, all of whom were not home the day he was found dead." Fiona's eyes became downcast. "His wife was the one who found him."
Jake's heart sank, imagining the situation his poor family was in. It was a situation he knew too well. Picking up the pieces after a loss like that was near impossible.
