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He pointed to the video. Theevidence.
She tapped the arm holding her up. “I’m good now. You can let go.”
“No, you collapsed.”
“I didn’t lose consciousness.” But nearly falling on her face for no apparent reason added one more symptom to a growing list of unexplained occurrences.
“I’m starting to think you don’t hate me, Z.”
“I’ve never hated you.”
“You could have fooled me. In fact, you did.”
“We are colleagues.”
From the day she met him, she’d hoped for more with him. He didn’t see her in that light. Now, with her behavior in question, he likely never would.
Had she developed some type of PTSD after she’d been trapped in the courthouse that collapsed a few months back? Five days sitting alone in the dark and cold. Five days not knowing if anyone was even looking for her. She’d heard noises nearby. The creaking of metal, the crumbling of concrete, and the constant drip of water that made her so thirsty she thought she’d go crazy listening to it, but no voices. She’d shouted until her throat turned raw, but no one ever answered.
She shivered as that feeling of being so utterly alone, of believing everyone had given up on her, returned. Her therapist said the night sweats and aversion to small spaces would fade in time. As would the headaches. Except each successive one intensified and lasted longer… as did the gaps in her memory.
PTSD often led to people distancing themselves from trauma. Was that what was happening to her?
Zirkov touched her shoulder, and she jumped. “You should rest.”
That sounded like a good idea. Talking with him, struggling to remember memories that dissolved every time she got close to accessing them, drained her.
“Take a few days off from work, Magdalena.”
Her eyes snapped to him. “Are you trying to get me out of the way?”
“Distance could benefit you.”
“You don’t trust me to investigate what’s happening. You think I’ll contaminate any evidence you find.” She shook her head. “You’ve already done that.”
“If I hadn’t, you’d be sitting in a DAA cell right now.”
There it was. Another reminder that she wasn’t as good as him. “I don’t take orders from you,” she said as she barreled past him.
She knew this city better than him, how to shake a tail…
A memory of intentionally losing Stenikov at night flashed in her mind along with the sense that if he caught her, her life would be over. Why had he been tailing her? More importantly, why had she been trying to lose him?
Whatever she’d been doing wasn’t part of her regular duties. Was she the mole Zirkov sought or had she been tracking the mole? If it was the latter, why had she kept it a secret?
The second she glanced over her shoulder, she knew the answer. Sutherland might be right. The real mole was in GI7… and she couldn’t trust any of the marshals there, especially Zirkov.
CHAPTEREIGHT
MAGGIE
Maggie opened the slot to her mailbox in the lobby of her apartment building and pulled out the pile of messages from the DAA. She had taken a week off to investigate the leak.
Four messages were from human resources wondering when she was returning to work, one from Assistant Director Sutherland saying he needed to speak with her about a recent case involving the dead og’dals, and a notice from IT saying her duties as a liaison officer didn’t qualify her for a comm. It further explained that her fellow agents in Earth Intelligence required comms because they werefieldagents and their missions put them in danger daily.
WTF? Did they think marshal was an honorary title? That she sat at her desk all day? She spent more time out of the office than in it. In the past year, the Brotherhood had shot her and a building collapsed on her, all while protecting witnesses. The letter stated that she could appeal the decision in six months.
As she climbed the stairs to her apartment on the third floor, Maggie stared at the signature. Adam Watkins. The asshole who hit on her when she first moved to L.A. She’d turned him down and denying her a comm was his latest attempt to get back at her. She could ask Assistant Director Sutherland to intervene and ensure she received a comm, but that sent a shiver down her spine, like doing so would be asking for trouble.
