because Sean and Patrick were partners. The organization had been slowly growing more powerful and in demand over the last few years, and while that worried some people in power, it didn’t worry Hans.
Every new agent was thoroughly vetted. Each one went through extensive psychological and background screenings. It was this vetting process that had affected Lucy’s placement, because while she passed all the psychological tests, the panels felt she was too calculated in her responses and that her master’s in criminal psychology may have given her the leverage to cheat the tests. She had been cold in her interviews, didn’t have any outside interests, and they feared she had a vendetta.
But ultimately, Hans was selfish and he wanted to train Lucy to be the agent he knew she could be. He’d been watching her these last four weeks through the one person he trusted to keep his interest confidential. She’d been doing fine, and she’d passed the tests he’d set up for her, confirming that he’d been right to ask Rick Stockton to overrule the hiring panel.
Tony had been drinking prior to going into cardiac arrest. He had his heart pills on his desk, telling Hans that he’d been experiencing chest pains but chose self-medication over the doctor.
A murder at Quantico would be bold, brazen, and extremely difficult. Poison to induce cardiac arrest would take medical knowledge and opportunity.
Why would someone kill Tony? He wasn’t involved in the politics of the Bureau, had never aspired to be anything but a field agent. He could be grumpy and he rode his students hard, but he was always fair.
It all came back to the Rachel McMahon investigation and the missing file. Tony had figured something out about the case, and either the file was stolen after he died as a crime of opportunity or he was murdered because of his knowledge of the file.
Hans had read over all the official records this afternoon, but there was nothing that jumped out at him. Nothing that would warrant anyone wanting Tony, Stokes, Theissen, and the reporter all dead.
But while Hans had been involved in the original investigation, he hadn’t been as involved as Tony.
Hans pulled the security log from Thursday afternoon to see which card keys accessed the basement. There were no unauthorized accesses, but that didn’t mean someone hadn’t. Yet circumstantial evidence indicated that if Tony had been murdered, someone he worked with had killed him.
If Tony was murdered.
Hans called his friend from the lab, Trisha Morrison.
“Hans, it’s nearly midnight,” Trisha said.
“I’m sorry. And you’re not going to like what I’m calling about.”
“You want results.”
“Yes. I know it’s early, but—”
“They’re being run, Hans. That’s the best I can do. I’ll be at the lab tomorrow and will check on the tests personally. But it’s going to take at least another day, and if we don’t find anything, I’ll need to run a broader test.”
“I appreciate it.”
Hans hung up. There was nothing more he could do tonight. He locked up, checked out at the desk, and walked the quarter mile to the small bungalow he was living in for the duration.
The cool, fresh air cleared his head, and he realized how exhausted he was. It had been a long forty-eight hours.
He followed the trail around a fenced construction area, where the new hostage rescue facility was being built. The security lighting was weak and flickered. A scaffolding to his right seemed out of place. He sidestepped it, then tripped over a toolbox and fell hard on his knees.
Pain shot up to his pelvis and he feared he’d broken his leg. He rolled over to catch his breath when a crashing sound startled him.
He couldn’t get away from the scaffolding before it came falling down and pinned him to the ground. The weight of the wood and pipe and equipment was stifling. Blood dripped into his eye from a deep cut on his forehead.
He sensed more than saw movement to his left. He tried to turn his head but couldn’t. A sharp pain exploded his temple, then he felt nothing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Six Years Ago
Soon after I became an emancipated minor on my sixteenth birthday, I got my GED and was accepted into SU. It was far enough from my crazy mom and dad that I didn’t think about them much. The first year I kept to myself. I was younger than everyone, the classes weren’t as easy as I’d thought, and I focused on studying. I just wanted to blend in while I figured out