He shakes his head, his lip curling up. “That we know of.”
I put the building on lockdown the second I realized she was gone, but we were too late.Oz tracks her out of the building and manages to hack into the neighboring security cameras, but we lose her at the end of the street.
I straighten up. “I want officers at her house and her precinct.” I doubt she’ll be there but it’s protocol.
“She managed to fake her death, steal an identity and become a detective,” Oz says, voicing what we’re all thinking. “We might have already lost her for good.”
The door slams shut as Jude walks out. I sigh. Part of leading this team is dealing with everyone’s emotional baggage and we have more than most. I tug down the sleeves of my suit jacket and follow Jude into the corridor.
He’s leaning against the gray wall, staring at the ceiling, his fingers playing with the stones in his pocket.
“This isn’t your fault,” I tell him.
“I should have stayed with her or placed an officer on the door.”
“She was cuffed and locked in. Jude, we didn’t know who she was or what she was capable of.”
“You would have known. You’d have had some sort of instinct.”
I hold back another sigh. Jude has a habit of comparing himself to others. He comes from a wealthy family and is a certified genius, but his parents see his ADHD as a weakness. They refused to even send him for an assessment and every time he struggled or made a mistake, they compared him to his brother. If I ever meet his mother, we’ll be having words.
I step in close and grasp the side of his neck. “If I was going to have an instinct, I would have had one and told you to stay with her. I didn’t. Some things are just out of our control.”
Jude finally looks at me, a smirk playing at his lips. “Says the control freak.”
My lip twitches. We both know he’s right. “I don’t need you to be like me, Jude. Or Eli, or Oz. I need you to be you. So, stop moping and use that genius brain of yours to profile our little escape artist. Where would she go?”
Jude nods and closes his eyes. His eyelids flicker as he sifts through his thoughts like Oz searches the internet. After a minute, his eyes snap open. “She’s a detective,” he states. “Why do that? Why fake her death and become a police officer? It’s risky. She had a fresh start, she could have disappeared and lived a normal, happy life.”
I cock my head. “You think she’s trying to catch her father?”
“I don’t know, but you don’t make detective at twenty-two if it’s just a job to you.” Jude’s eyes lock on mine. “I know where she is.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Freya
I’M USED TO being on the run. In some ways it’s been my default state since I was seventeen and I know that the last thing I should be doing is returning to the scene of the crime. But here I am.
The crime scene teams have cleared out of Quantico Park and the moonlight bounces off the river. Two Uniforms stand guard outside the tent, their chatter drifting over to where I’m hidden behind a tree. They look familiar and I smile when I realize they’re both from my station.
I hook my camera strap over my neck. Thankfully, my bike was still parked here so I’d managed to grab the camera from under the seat along with one of my knives. I hate knives and I hate that once again dear old dad’s put me in a position where I might need one.But I’m good with them and since River and his team confiscated my gun, I’d rather be armed than vulnerable.
I stroll out from behind the tree, the dampening grass soft under foot. The cops stop chatting as I approach. “Danvers?”One of them asks, his brow furrowed.
If Agent Park’s team have already gotten word out that I’m a fraud, then this could end badly, but with any luck they still think I am safely locked away in their cozy little interrogation room.
“Hey boys,” I say, “The photographer from earlier messed up, forgot to get shots after the body was removed. Agent Park sent me down here to take some photos while it’s all still fresh.”
“You working with the FBI?” The one who recognized me asks. Jacobs, I think.
Don’t just tell the lie, tell the truth in the lie.
“Yeah, the vic is my missing person.”
The other cop, Patrick, grimaces. “Never good when they end up that way.” Luke and I worked with Patrick a few months back on an assault case. He’s a good guy, sensitive. Guilt curdles in my stomach, but I push it down.
Patrick pulls back the tent flap. “You go on in Freya, get what you need to catch this son of a bitch.”
