Cameron was careful not to show any reaction to this. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see Jack. His expression remained neutral as well. It was weird, sitting next to him in Davis’s office, pretending as though everything was business as usual despite what had happened between them on Saturday night.
“I’m afraid this is going to be a much more intrusive level of protective surveillance,” Davis continued, “but unfortunately, we don’t have much choice in the matter.”
“Trust me—no one wants to make sure we don’t have a repeat of today’s incident more than I do,” Cameron said. “In this case, I’m happy to be inconvenienced.”
“With Jack handling the surveillance, we’ll need someone else to manage the day-to-day responsibilities of the investigation.” Davis turned to Wilkins. “Sam—Jack has recommended that you replace him in this capacity. He assures me that you’re ready for the responsibility.”
Uncharacteristically speechless, Wilkins paused before addressing his boss. “I appreciate the confidence that Jack—and you—have in me, sir. But Jack and I are partners, and I would like to stick with him on this assignment.”
Davis chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry—you’re not getting rid of him that easily. You’ll still be partners, but with different responsibilities. Jack will remain with Ms. Lynde, and you’ll lead the team here in our office.”
Wilkins grinned. “In that case, I wholeheartedly accept.”
“I thought you might,” Davis said. “Now—we need to start thinking about what happened today. How the hell did Mandy Robards’s killer find out about Cameron? On the FBI side of things, there are the three of us, and the director, who are aware of her involvement in the investigation. Wilkins—I think the first thing you need to do is come up with a list of everyone in the Chicago Police Department who knows. Today’s attack tells us one thing: we’ve got a leak. But we might be able to use that to our advantage. Once we find the leak, we can use him to get to the killer.”
“Be careful how you handle CPD on this,” Jack warned Wilkins. “These cops are not going to like the implication that one of them may have leaked confidential information either purposefully or inadvertently. So tread lightly.”
“Don’t worry—finessing is my forte,” Wilkins said. “And we need to think beyond CPD. Twenty women at the bachelorette party on Saturday saw that Cameron was under my and Jack’s surveillance. Any one of them could’ve spread that information to the wrong person.”
“I can get you their names, but I doubt any of those girls are the leak,” Cameron said. “None of them had any clue why you and Jack were watching me.”
Jack addressed Cameron. “What about your friends and family? Have you told them anything?”
“Collin and Amy know a little, but nothing specific. And they know to keep quiet. I haven’t talked to anyone else about it.”
Davis rocked back in his chair. “So we’ve got CPD to focus on, and, as an outside chance, the women who were with Cameron on Saturday night. By the way, Jack, I don’t recall seeing anything in your last report about you and Agent Wilkins attending a bachelorette party over the weekend. Strange how that got left out.”
“It was a last-minute determination made based upon the security parameters of the nightclub Ms. Lynde planned to attend.”
“Nice answer,” Davis said.
“No kidding,” Wilkins agreed, looking impressed.
“As long as we’re listing everyone who is aware of my involvement in the Robards’s investigation, I should mention that Silas knows. He found out through Godfrey,” Cameron said, referring to the FBI director. “Apparently, he called Silas last week to thank me for my cooperation in the investigation.”
Davis paused at the mention of Silas’s name. “Do you think it’s possible Silas told someone about your involvement in the case?”
“As the U.S. attorney, he certainly should know better,” Cameron said.
“I would hope so,” Davis agreed.
The conversation turned to the subject of Jack and Wilkins’s recent trip to New York. As Cameron listened while Jack filled in Davis, her eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to the cut above his cheek. In the emergency room, after she’d gotten five stitches for her “point two”-level gunshot wound, the doctor had offered to have a nurse take care of the scrapes on Jack’s cheek and hands. He’d waved this off, not budging from Cameron’s side.
So much had transpired between them over the last few days—first The Thing That Never Happened on her front doorstep, and then Those Things She’d Never Admit on Saturday night. Cameron had no idea what was going on with her and Jack lately, but as she looked at the cut on his face, she did know one thing.
She trusted him.
And since he now would be the one covering her twenty-four /seven, she knew that trust had to go both ways. Which meant she needed to tell him about everything that had happened three years ago.
Tonight.
WHEN GRANT LET himself into his apartment that night, he paused in the doorway, bracing himself to be shoved up against the wall and handcuffed.
It didn’t happen.
He exhaled, finding comfort in the fact that, at a minimum, Pallas hadn’t yet identified him as the masked man. How long that fact would remain undiscovered, however, was less certain.
To say that the afternoon had not gone as planned would be an understatement.