you’ve found.”
Reynolds stared at the woman. Technically what she should do was go
directly to OPR and tell them everything. The Office of Professional
Responsibility was officially under the umbrella of the Bureau but was
actually run by the Department of Justice. OPR investigated
allegations of misconduct by Bureau personnel. They had a reputation
for being very thorough. An OPR investigation could put a scare into
even the toughest FBI agent.
Yes, from a simple technical point of view, it was a no-brainer. If
life could only be so simple. The devastated woman standing before
Reynolds made her decision much less simple. In the end she went with
her human side and put aside the Bureau manual for now. Ken Newman
would be buried a hero. The man had been an agent for over two
decades; he at least deserved that.
“At some point, yes, I’ll have to report my findings. But not right
now.” She paused and gripped the woman’s hand. “I know when the
funeral is. I’ll be there with everyone else, paying our respects to
Ken.”
Reynolds gave Anne a reassuring hug and then walked out, her mind
whirling so fast she felt a little dizzy.
If Ken Newman was on the take, he had been doing it for a while. Was
he the leak on Reynolds’s investigation? Had he sold out other
investigations as well? Was he just a freelancing mole selling to the
highest bidder? Or was he a regular snitch working for the same party?
If so, why was such a party interested in Faith Lockhart? There were
foreign interests involved. Lockhart had told them that much. Was
that the key? Was Newman working for a foreign government all this
time, a foreign government that was also coincidentally caught up in
Buchanan’s scheme?
She sighed. The whole thing was snowballing into something so big, she
halfway felt like running home and pulling the covers over her head.
Instead she would get in her car, drive to the office and continue
chipping away at this case, as she had hundreds of others over the
years. She had won more than she had lost. And that was the best
anyone in her line of work could ever hope for.
CHAPTER 35
LEE HAD AWOKEN VERY LATE with the mother of all hangovers and decided
to run it off. At first, each of his strides on the sand sent lethal
darts through his brain. Then, as he loosened up, breathed the chilly
air, felt the salty wind on his face, at about the one-mile point in
his run, the effects of his crushed grape and Red Dog shooters
disappeared. When he got back to the beach house, he went around to
the pool and retrieved his clothes and his gun. He sat in a sling
chair for a while, letting the sun warm him. When he went back inside,
he smelled coffee and eggs.
Faith was in the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee. She had on jeans
and a short-sleeved shirt and was barefoot. When she saw him come in,
she pulled out another mug and filled it. For a moment, this simple
act of companionship pleased him. And then his actions of the night
before washed that feeling away, like ocean waves brutally wiping out
sand castles.
“I figured you’d sleep all day,” she said. Her tone was excessively
casual, he thought, and she didn’t look at him when she spoke.
This qualified for the most awkward moment in Lee’s entire life. What
was he supposed to say? Hey, what about that little sexual assault
thing last night.
He came into the kitchen area, fingered the mug, half hoping the large
lump in his throat would end up strangling him to death. “Sometimes
the best remedy for doing something incredibly stupid and inexcusable
is to run until you drop.” He glanced at the eggs. “Smells good.”
“Doesn’t compare to the meal you made last night. But then again, I’m
no whiz in the kitchen. I guess I’m a room-service kind of girl. But
I’m sure you already figured that out.” As she moved over to the
stove, he noted she walked with a slight limp. He also couldn’t fail