Saving Faith By: David Baldacci

Fisher said.

Reynolds glared at him with rising anger. “Charges! They’re

unsubstantiated garbage.”

Massey opened the file. “So are you saying that your private

investigation into Ken Newman’s finances is garbage?”

On this Reynolds froze and then abruptly sat down. She pressed sweaty

palms against the table and tried to get her emotions under control.

Her temper was not doing her any good. She was playing right into

their hands. Indeed, Fisher and Massey exchanged what she saw as

pleased glances at her obvious distress.

“We talked to Anne Newman. She told us everything you’ve done,” Fisher

said. “I can’t even begin to tell you how many Bureau rules you’ve

broken.”

“I was trying to protect Ken and his family.”

“Oh, please!” Fisher exclaimed.

“It’s true! I was going to go to OPR, but not until after the

funeral.”

“That was so very considerate of you,” Fisher said sarcastically.

“Why don’t you go to hell, Paul.”

“Agent Reynolds, keep a civil tongue in your head,” Massey commanded.

Reynolds sat back and rubbed her forehead. “May I ask how you found

out about what I was doing? Did Anne Newman come to you?”

“If you don’t mind, we’ll ask the questions.” Massey leaned forward

and made a pyramid with his fingers. “What exactly did you find in the

safe-deposit box?”

“Cash. A lot. Thousands.”

“And Newman’s financial records?”

“A lot of unexplained income.”

“We’ve also talked to the bank branch you visited. You told them not

to allow access to the box to anyone except yourself. And you told

Anne Newman not to tell anyone about it, not even anyone at the

Bureau.”

“I didn’t want anybody getting to that money. It was material

evidence. And I told Anne to keep quiet until I had a chance to dig

further. It was for her own protection, until I found out who was

behind it.”

“Or did you want the time to get the money for yourself? With Ken dead

and Anne Newman apparently not even aware her husband had the

safe-deposit box, you would be the only one who knew the money was

there.” Massey stared directly at her; his tiny eyes resembled twin

bullets coming for her.

Fisher piped in: “It’s curious that when Newman dies you access a box

with thousands of dollars in it that he had under a fake name, and

about the same time, accounts controlled by you fill up with a hundred

thousand dollars.”

“If you’re somehow trying to say I had Ken killed because of the money

in the box, you’re way off base. Anne called and asked for my help. I

never knew Ken had a safe-deposit box until she told me about it. I

had no idea what was in the box until after Ken was already dead.”

“So you say,” Fisher said.

“So I know,” Reynolds replied hotly. She looked at Massey. “Am I

being formally charged with anything?”

Massey sat back and put his hands behind his head. “You must realize

how very, very bad this all looks. If you were sitting in my chair,

what would your conclusions be?”

“I can see how you might have your suspicions. But if you just give me

the chance-”

Massey closed his file and stood. “You’re suspended, Agent Reynolds,

effective immediately.”

Reynolds was stunned. “Suspended? I haven’t even been formally

charged. You don’t even have any specific evidence that I’ve done

anything wrong. And you’re suspending me?”

“You should be grateful it’s not worse,” Fisher said.

“Fred,” Reynolds said, half rising from her chair, “I can understand

your taking me off this assignment. You can transfer me somewhere else

while you investigate, but don’t suspend me. Everybody in the Bureau

will assume I’m guilty. It’s not right.”

Massey’s face did not soften at all. “Please turn in your credentials

and sidearm to Agent Fisher. You are not to return to your office. And

you are not to leave the area for any reason.”

The blood drained from Reynolds’s face and she fell back into her

chair.

Massey went to the door. “Your highly suspicious actions, coupled with

the murder of an agent and reports of unknown people impersonating FBI

agents, do not allow me the option of merely reassigning you, Reynolds.

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