matters now. My life is over.”
What did matter was that Lara was cold and tired and more than ready to put this child killer in jail. There was a special place in hell for men like him.
They reached the lobby where not a soul was present. The police would have moved everyone out in the event that things went bad.
She held Sean by the cuffs behind his back and paused to look outside of the lobby doors. It was a circus. Not only were there half a dozen NYPD cop cars, but also news vans and a throng of people held back from the entrance by some of the officers. Potential jumpers always drew a big crowd.
A rivulet of apprehension worked through her. The last thing she needed right now was for her picture to appear in any news stories.
She’d wanted...needed to stay low-profile. Dammit, this had the potential of ruining everything for her. Get a grip, she mentally commanded herself.
She straightened her shoulders and fought against a sense of dark foreboding. She had a job to do, and no matter what the consequences, she had to see it through. That’s what she did...she did her job.
Just get him into the back of one of the patrol cars and then your job here is done. You can get back to your new unit, and life will go on, she thought with determination.
“We’re coming out,” she said into her wire.
Getting a firm grip on Dunst’s handcuffs, she threw her other arm up to hide her face and then used her back to push out of the building doors.
Shouts resounded, along with the click and whir of cameras. Halfway to the nearest patrol car, the sickening sound of a bullet hitting flesh jerked her to an abrupt halt. Dunst stiffened and then fell out of her grasp and to the ground beside her. He lay face up with a bullet hole between his eyes.
Silence. The world stopped moving for a single moment as Lara stared down at the dead man and the blood seeping out and making a sickening puddle surrounding the back of his head.
She looked up in horror, and chaos erupted. Police rushed in, onlookers screamed, and cameras continued to click. Lara backed away from the dead man.
A sniper.
She automatically pulled her gun from her holster and crouched, steeled for another potential shot as she focused her attention on the nearby surrounding buildings. Uniformed police ran in dozens of directions—some toward the nearest building where the shot had possibly come from. Others raced to her side, and more NYPD officers scattered the onlookers toward cover.
Seconds ticked by, and when another shot didn’t follow the first, Lara’s first thought of public safety shifted to personal vulnerability, and a more primal instinct kicked in.
She threw her arm up once again in an attempt to shield her features and raced toward her company-issued car in the parking lot. Her heart nearly beat out of her chest.
Once inside she gripped the steering wheel tightly and stared at the scene in the distance. What in the hell had just happened?
She’d done her job. She’d talked him off the ledge. It should have been a piece of cake to get him into a patrol car and on his way to jail.
A cluster fuck. That’s what she saw before her, with cops wielding guns and running helter-skelter. People still screamed, and not only news people were taking photos, but also everyone with a cell phone captured the madness for posterity.
How many had captured her image? She had to get out of there. She slammed her fists against the steering wheel and then quickly started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. She only hoped that no ghosts from her past chased after her.
26 Federal Plaza was the home of the Social Security Administration, Homeland Security and the Federal Bureau of Investigation, among other government agencies. At over forty-one stories high, the Jacob K. Javits Federal Building was a monolith of steel, glass, limestone and granite.
Lara entered the building through a side door. The last thing she wanted to do was to make her way through the throng of tourists who always clogged the main entrance. She hit the small lobby, flashed her badge to the security agent and then raced across the terrazzo floor toward a bank of awaiting elevators.
Once inside one of the elevators she punched the button for the twenty-third floor where the FBI was housed, and her new team, the Crisis Management Unit, should be waiting for her. She’d barely had time to meet them all this morning when she’d been called to the scene at the hotel.
What in the hell had just happened? Who had fired that shot and why? And how much danger might she be in? Dammit, she’d thought she was safe. It had been almost two years. Who would have thought that an unknown man on a ledge and an audience frothing to see if he would jump could possibly undo everything she’d done in the past year in an effort to get her life back?
Maybe nobody had gotten a clear photo of her. She’d tried to shield her features as much as possible when she’d ushered Sean Dunst out from the hotel.
Still, she knew she was probably fooling herself. The second that bullet had slammed into him, she’d dropped her guard, and who knew what photos had been taken in that split second?
Hopefully she was overreacting. It had been a long time, with no indication that there was anyone left who might want to do her harm.
Maybe she shouldn’t have come back home to New York?
The elevator door whooshed open, and once again she flashed her creds to security before heading down a long hallway to the back of the building where her new team of talented agents had been assigned to work on the kinds of cases that nobody else wanted.
This was what she had been born to do, to work within the law as much as possible but to not be afraid to slightly blur the lines in order to achieve ultimate justice.
She passed the receptionist desk and nodded to Penelope Zimmerman who, rumor had it, was like a pit bull when it came to keeping out the unwanted and fielding phone calls from kooks.
Lara fought against the panic that threatened to crawl up the back of her throat. Maybe all of the news reports would only show Sean Dunst’s dead body. Who cared about the FBI agent who had gotten him off the ledge? Dunst’s unexpected murder was the real story, not her.
All she needed was a little good luck on her side, but then when had that ever happened? The minute she opened the door to the conference room she knew things were potentially bad.
All of the team was there, but Lara first looked at her boss, Supervisory Agent and Unit Chief Victoria Russo. As always not an ash-colored hair on her head was out of place, and she was impeccably dressed in a black suit and a crisp white blouse. It was only when Lara gazed at Victoria’s blue eyes that she knew things might be as bad as she’d expected.
She’d known Victoria for a long time. The tough woman had been Lara’s boss when they’d both worked for the DC department. Victoria knew more about Lara’s background than anyone else on earth. Her glare cut through Lara, as if seeking to look into her very soul.
Lara felt as if Victoria was whispering in her ear, telling her that
