Each time she tried to wake up was different. But every time she fell back into the abyss, the dream was the same.
She was alone, walking barefoot across wet grass. At first the grass felt refreshing and soft, but soon the earth started to harden, and the prickly edges of each green blade turned brown and filled with thorns. With each step she asked herself, Where are my shoes?
There had to be shoes somewhere.
Soon the grass was gone altogether, and the earth was covered in jagged rocks brought up from the depths of hell.
With each step she burned and bled, and still she walked. The compelling need to move forward was as important as taking her next breath.
But like her breathing, each step was as painful as the last.
“Just stop,” she heard a voice say.
But staying in place would give the rocks the opportunity to carve out bigger sections of her skin . . . and maybe the next step would be better.
Her gaze moved around the content of the dream, searching for something to look forward to. A place where the rocks were gone and the earth was soft and healing . . . but all she could see in the vastness of her dream was hell’s landscape of pain.
“This is going to hang on another day.” Fitz voiced what Leo had already figured out.
It was lunchtime, and the court was in recess for the next hour and a half.
“I know,” Leo said.
The expensive lawyers were dragging it out. Which would likely leave closing arguments for the next day.
They stood just inside the courthouse while most of the occupants walked past them in search of something to eat.
Leo looked out the windows to the tops of the adjacent buildings. He knew his people had extra coverage on watch. Unlike the night before, the chances of someone shooting at him here were slim. That didn’t stop his heart from beating a little too fast at the prospect of doing a simple task like ordering a greasy burger from a local fast food joint.
That thought brought him around to the woman in the hospital.
He needed an update.
Fitz reached for the door to push her way outside.
Leo hesitated.
Fitz stopped, looked at him.
“I need to make a couple calls.”
“Right. Sure. I’ll grab you something.” She saw through his excuse.
Leo reached for his wallet, handed her a twenty.
“No onions.”
She waved the bill in her hand and walked out.
Behind him, a voice demanded his attention. “You have a second?”
Neil stood over him.
“Yeah. What’s up?”
Neil nodded to a quiet corner of the building.
“Are your people any closer to finding who took a shot at you yesterday?”
“Couldn’t tell ya. No one has contacted me if they are.” His phone had been put on silent in the courtroom, and it hadn’t buzzed once during the proceedings. “Why?”
Neil looked away. “My eyes on him haven’t checked in today. It’s not unlike them, but considering your activity last night . . .”
“You think Navi’s men took your guy out?”
Neil kept his lips pushed together. His silence was his answer.
“Damn,” Leo said for him.
“I’m not jumping to conclusions. My contact is smoke and shadows. You never know they’re there.”
Leo couldn’t help but feel there was more that needed to be said. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because if my contact was compromised, you need to go underground.”
“Why?”
Neil looked him dead in the eye. “If they’re gone, then you don’t stand a chance.”
That didn’t sound promising.
“Your guy is that good, huh?”
For a second, it looked as if Neil was going to laugh.
All Leo got was a half of a smile. “Yes. She is.”
Chandler Brackett was the man Leo reported to. The man was fifty-five and two years away from being forced out of the bureau. Why the federal government wanted to retire their agents at such an early age was beyond Leo. The man would likely find a new, high-paying job once he retired that would make him question why he stayed with the FBI as long as he did.
From the courthouse, Leo and Fitz returned to the hotel and met Brackett in his room.
Unlike Leo’s accommodations, which were equipped with a bed and a bathroom, Brackett’s had a living space with a conference room–type table and enough seating for eight.
“Have a seat,” Brackett told them the second they walked through the door.
At the table, an agent by the name of Hector Lopez sat in front of a laptop computer and a portable printer.