Tears still running freely down her face, she held out a hand to him. “Thank you, Adam.” He crossed the room to her, aware of the impatience emanating from the other two in the room. He took her hand in his and, at her urging, sank into the seat beside her.
FBI deputy director Garrett Schulte leaned back in his chair and offered Adam a polite smile. But there was no pretense of civility from the other man. Curtis Morgan served in Homeland Security in some capacity, Adam recalled. Given his presence here, it was a position of some import. Regardless, it was Byron Reinbeck’s widow who held his focus.
“Gentlemen.” She took a moment to wipe at her face with a tissue. “I’m sure you both know Adam Raiker, by reputation if not personally. Adam is a dear family friend.” When her voice broke, she paused to compose it. “I’d like a few moments with him now. We can resume our discussion in fifteen minutes. If you’d excuse us?”
Schulte and Morgan exchanged a startled glance but the assistant director recovered first. “Of course.” When he rose, the other man followed suit. “Is there anything we can get for you?”
“I’d like a copy of the investigative report updated daily and delivered to me.” Even under the circumstances it was difficult for Adam to suppress a smile at the men’s reactions to Jo’s crisply worded request. “Perhaps you can discuss the details involved for making that happen.”
Without another word, the men moved to the open door. Through it. And when it shut behind them, Adam knew the woman had successfully distracted the two from his presence here. They were going to be kept busy employing a duck-and-dodge strategy that would allow the investigation to continue in confidence while still placating the widow of one of the most powerful men in the country. The focus on her connection to Byron Reinbeck also meant they’d underestimate the fact that Jo Waverly-Reinbeck was a brilliant assistant U.S. attorney in her own right.
If the situation were different, he might feel a bit sorry for them.
“Thank you.” She squeezed his hand and sent him a watery smile. “For making the necessary calls. For getting the people out of here . . . God. I just couldn’t deal with that.”
“What about the kids?” he asked quietly. The couple had two sons, both blond like Jo, both in their teens. So far they were being shielded from the breaking news of their father’s death.
“They’re with my parents. They’ll keep the boys away from the TV until I can go and tell them in person.” Her chin quavered once, before she firmed it. “We discussed this. Byron and me. Given our professions, I always thought I’d be the likelier target. God knows I’ve had plenty of threats. Remember that Calentro drug cartel trial last year? Somehow the USMS managed to keep me safe through that, but Byron hasn’t had a serious threat in years. And still . . .”
Because there were no words, Adam released her hand to slip an arm around her shoulders. The passing minutes were filled with her soft weeping. Causing a growing desolation inside him. Helplessness. There was nothing he hated worse.
Moments later, she drew away, mopped her face. And he recognized the determined expression she wore. “You’ve told us often enough over the last couple months, but are you truly okay? Completely recovered?”
The non sequitur had him blinking. “The bullets caught me in the one area of the chest that wasn’t already scarred. I’m still a bit miffed about that, but otherwise I’m fine.”
Her gaze was intent. “Who will have jurisdiction on this? The bureau?”
“DCPD will have been first to the scene. Marshals will have sent backup. Then you have the FBI and Homeland Security, just for starters. It’ll depend on what’s discovered at the crime scene. At the location of . . .”
“Of the shooter,” she continued for him. Her tears had disappeared, as if she’d successfully willed them away. “With Byron a sitting justice, we’re likely to have every alphabet agency coming out of the woodwork trying to get a piece of this.” Her smile was fierce. “I’ve read the justice reports. Regardless of 9/11, the agencies still haven’t learned to share intelligence. I don’t want Bryon getting lost in a bureaucratic pissing match.”
He couldn’t refute her logic. Although he’d left the FBI years ago, Adam had been an agent long enough to recognize the potential pitfalls of the upcoming investigation. “What are