We Kill Killers (Psychological Thriller Book 2) by Ashman S. T

Author:Ashman, S. T. [Ashman, S. T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-06-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Agent Vallery Rose

Assistant Director McCourt’s waiting room was the epitome of sleek professionalism, adorned with framed awards and a stylish modern vase. His secretary, a short woman with a timid demeanor and neatly cut hair, was engrossed in her computer at her impeccably organized desk. Rose observed her with a mix of wonder and disbelief. She didn’t know how anyone could tolerate daily interactions with McCourt. The few hours Rose spent with him each month were more than enough to test her limits despite what she owed him.

The phone’s ring cut through the silence. The secretary answered with a stoic face. “He will see you now, Agent Rose,” she said, her eyes fixed on her computer screen.

“Thank you,” Rose responded, moving toward the door to preempt the inevitable “Come in” response to her knock.

McCourt’s office was spacious and imposing, featuring a large mahogany desk. He sat behind it, radiating authority and experience. The room was lined with bookshelves filled with legal and investigative texts, while the walls boasted framed pictures of McCourt with presidents and other notable figures.

The atmosphere was always the same when Rose was summoned here. A solemn professionalism tinged with McCourt’s stamp of authoritarianism. His rolled-up sleeves— pushed to the elbows in a failed attempt to seem approachable—fooled no one, probably not even himself.

Leaning back in his massage chair, McCourt gestured for Rose to sit across from him. “How is the search for the Bay Reaper going?” His icy blue eyes bore into Rose as if he already knew the answers to all the questions he was about to pose.

Her hazel eyes held steady, barely blinking under his intense gaze. “Every available man is on it. Special Agent Richter is giving it all we got,” Rose replied.

McCourt nodded dismissively. “He’d better, after the fiasco with our main suspect.”

“Sir, I don’t think Jason Brown was an open and shut case,” Rose ventured, maintaining politeness.

McCourt clasped his hands in silence. She’d struck a nerve. After almost two years of these meetings, Rose could write a novel about his moods and body language.

“Oh, yes, I forgot. You threw that ‘release party’ for Brown together, like pals who run the show,” McCourt said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Would you enlighten me again, Agent Rose, about all those years of experience in the field that supposedly made you an expert on suspects and their handling?”

Rose remained silent, knowing this was her best response.

“That’s what I thought,” McCourt mumbled, now pissed. “The entire Boston headquarters watched Richter defy my orders. With elections looming, I’ve got senators and the president himself breathing down my neck about this goddamn Bay Reaper.”

Rose had stopped wondering why McCourt always omitted FBI Director Helen Finch from these discussions. It was clear he considered himself her successor, so he no longer bothered to acknowledge her.

“Sir, are you suggesting we should’ve kept Jason Brown in custody while the real Reaper is still out there?”

“Jesus, Rose,” McCourt huffed. “Of course not! Do you think I’m an idiot? But with elections just weeks away, holding a suspect a bit longer wouldn’t have hurt.

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