Cold & Deadly (Cold Justice: Crossfire #1)(7)

It was Sheridan. She glanced at his face, but he wasn’t looking at her. The guy was subtly trying to tell her to stay quiet. Dammit, this might be her only opportunity. She didn’t have a direct line to the director and doubted she’d ever again be this close to him in the flesh. She wasn’t going to waste this chance because someone she barely knew thought she should shut up.

“Does that include a scenario in which this shooter deliberately staged Van Stamos’s murder as a suicide so they could target mourners at his funeral? And the Bureau missed it?”

Sheridan coughed, dropping his hand away, cutting himself loose from any association.

“Kanas,” Aldrich warned.

She sent him a mutinous glare. Aldrich was an okay guy, but Van had been worth ten of him as an investigator.

“You think someone is actively targeting federal agents?” the man she thought she recognized from the academy asked.

“Any evidence of this?” This from the director.

She shook her head. All the evidence suggested Van had blown his own brains out, but she knew that wasn’t true. “No, but as you said, sir, we can’t afford to rule anything out.” She parroted the director’s own words back at him, hoping for a positive reaction. “We should definitely investigate every avenue.”

The expressions were all skeptical, except for the pregnant woman and the icy blond. Sheridan wore a slight smile. He could afford to, his career wasn’t on the line. The others looked annoyed. She’d broken protocol and upset the patriarchy.

The director gave her a look that told her how close to the line she was getting, but his words also gave her hope.

“It is a possibility we can’t afford to ignore,” he agreed. “Aldrich, go back over the files regarding Van Stamos’s death and look for anything suspicious. Submit your report directly to me. I will coordinate with the task force being set up to investigate this shooting.”

Ava doubted Aldrich would do more than a cursory investigation whereas she’d turn the world inside out and upside down looking for answers.

“I’d like to be the one reviewing the case, sir.” Ava winced, knowing it was a mistake as soon as the words left her mouth.

“That will be up to your supervisor, Agent Kanas,” the director said sharply, taking a step away from her. The FBI was all about procedure. He checked his watch. “I need to brief the president.” He stared hard at her then. “I do not want to hear your theory on any media channel or Twitter account. Am I clear, Agent Kanas?”

“Of course, sir.” She stood stiffly. Pissed. She was no more likely to leak the suggestion than anyone else here. Less, considering even the thought of Twitter made her gag. She was too antisocial for social media, not to mention too busy actively working cases.

The director nodded brusquely and stalked away, most of the suits following him in a swarm as he headed to his big black car.

Sheridan, the blond-haired man, and the pregnant woman remained behind. The woman held out her hand in greeting. “Agent Rooney. Nice to meet you, even though the circumstances suck.”

Ava pressed the other woman’s fingers in a firm grip. She’d heard of Mallory Rooney. Almost everyone in the Bureau had. Rooney was married to some shit-hot, ex-CIA dude, and worked for Lincoln Frazer, the legendary profiler from the Behavioral Analysis Unit—and Ava finally identified the blond man at Mallory’s side. Assistant Special Agent in Charge (ASAC) Lincoln Frazer had taught Ava all about the grisly aspects of serial murder during the blur of New Agent Training.

“What makes you think Van Stamos was murdered, Agent Kanas?” Frazer wasted no time on pleasantries.

“The fact he was a devoted Catholic who wanted to go to Heaven?”

Frazer looked unimpressed.

How did she articulate what she couldn’t explain herself? “Van believed he’d see his wife again in the hereafter. No way would he kill himself and deny himself that eternal happy ending.”

It sounded sappy, but it was true.

“So, no actual evidence?” Frazer’s gaze was assessing.

She straightened her spine. “Except the fact he was enjoying retirement and talked about visiting Italy and writing a book. Also, we were supposed to meet for coffee the next day.”

“People who commit suicide often make plans.” Frazer wasn’t known for his tolerance of foolish ideas, but she was disappointed he wasn’t more open.

“Van wasn’t depressed,” she said stubbornly.

“That we know of,” Sheridan put in.

She swung toward him. “He wasn’t, and you’d have known that if you’d bothered to pick up the phone occasionally.”

Sheridan’s lips tightened in irritation, but screw him.

“Van wouldn’t have done this to his daughters.” He wouldn’t have done it to me.

Sheridan’s stare grew too intense for her to hold his gaze. She looked away, but Frazer was watching her with the same hawk-like focus, silently dissecting her argument and abilities.

It reminded her of the way Sheridan had stared at her on that rooftop that morning. Like he could read her life experience from the lines on her face and memories scrawled behind her eyes. She’d given herself away to Sheridan, but she didn’t intend to make the same mistake again.

She forced herself to hold still under the scrutiny.