Agent Bryant was waiting for Kurt when he arrived in his office on the morning of the second day since they'd found Taylor. "Morning, Bryant," he greeted as he came around his desk and draped his suit jacket over the back of his chair before taking a seat. This was the first time he had seen him since Bryant caught Taylor's case and he really hoped the man's cheerful demeanor indicated he had turned up something useful.
"Weller," Cole acknowledged in return. "Since your team's going to be backing me up on the Taylor Shaw investigation, I'd like to meet with you in the mornings whenever possible to discuss new developments in the case." Though their schedules would likely conflict more often than not.
"Of course." Kurt only wished he had more to report. "Reade and Zapata and I spent the entire day yesterday going through my old cases, but of the fifteen suspects that we felt had both the resources and brainpower needed to pull something like this off, six are still in prison, three are dead, and four have been model citizens, according to their parole officers. We're double-checking their alibis, of course, and Reade and Zapata are going to be looking into the last two men today, but I'm not holding out much hope that anything will pan out there."
"Neither am I," Bryant agreed. "I just can't wrap my head around the idea that someone you've arrested would avenge their grudge against you by wiping the memory of one of your childhood friends, tattooing your name on her back, and sending her back to you. I think if you had put away anyone that twisted, their name would have immediately come to mind. I know criminals aren't always the most logical of individuals, but why not take your sister or nephew, someone whose absence would really hit home with you, rather than a young woman you haven't seen in nearly a decade?"
Kurt nodded. Despite the fact that his connection to Taylor was more personal than Bryant knew, his thoughts had been running along that same line. "That's been puzzling me, too." Why would anyone smart enough to pull off this elaborate a plan pick a victim he had no connection to any longer? He was closer to the cashier at his local supermarket than he was to Taylor. "Any luck on tracing Taylor's whereabouts?"
Cole shook his head. "Afraid not. Your girl became a ghost around the time you told Mayfair you lost contact with her. Deleted all her social media accounts, cancelled her credit cards and cell phone, and dropped out of college. She do—"
"Hold on," Kurt interrupted. "You're absolutely certain she dropped out of Stanford? That makes no sense. She only had a few months left to go to graduate." And she couldn't get into medical school without doing so. Giving up on their marriage was one thing, but the dream she'd been hyper-focused on since she was thirteen, her future livelihood? Impossible. Taylor wouldn't have thrown all that away, not even for a guy she was crazy about. She was too driven, too stubborn, too . . . too . . . just too.
"I don't know what to tell you, man." Cole shrugged apologetically. "All I know is, wherever she's been for the past nine years, it's been under an assumed name or completely off the grid. Normally, that sort of behavior would suggest to me that a person had been witness to a violent crime or had a stalker, but you were working as a San Francisco police officer at the time, correct? That's only about an hour away from Stanford, so if something like that were going on, she could have come to you for help."
Cole had certainly done his homework. He was connecting the dots of their shared history with alarming speed. Kurt could only hope Mayfair had been as quick and thorough about erasing those portions of that history they didn't want exposed. "If something like that were going on, she absolutely would have come to me for help," he replied with finality.
"Yeah, I figured as much," Cole agreed. "Not to mention, as I was about to say earlier, she does still have a bank account with over a million dollars in it, and according to bank records, she didn't withdraw any of it around that time. Or any time since. Kind of hard to go on the run without any means of support." His eyes narrowed as he studied Weller. "Are you aware you're a signatory on that account as well?" He hadn't quite believed it when one of his agents brought that fact to his attention, but when he'd compared the bank's faxed paperwork to documents Weller had signed here, the signatures had clearly matched.
Damn it, Taylor! You were supposed to take my name off the account after the divorce. Kurt kept his composure with an effort. "Obviously, I was aware of it, since I cosigned the papers to open the account. I just assumed that once we lost touch, she would have taken my name off it. The money came from her mom's life insurance policy and the sale of her house," he added. Cole hadn't asked, but Kurt wanted there to be no doubt that it was all obtained legally. "And like I explained to Mayfair, Sarah and I were the only family Taylor had, and she wanted the money to go to us,"—me— "without having to jump through a bunch of legal hoops if anything happened to her, hence the joint account."
That story had more holes than Swiss cheese, but Cole let it slide. He'd suspected from the moment he was assigned this case that the affection Weller had once felt for Taylor Shaw had been more than brotherly in nature, or Mayfair wouldn't have assigned him to oversee a case that was so clearly tailor-made for her golden boy. It was apparent to him that the two had been intimately involved at some point, and Weller was downplaying the failed relationship now, most likely in order to spare Taylor's feelings.
He changed the subject. "Have you had the chance to look at the pictures I sent you of Taylor's tattoos? Mayfair and I are going to meet with Agent Patterson shortly to discuss them again, and I'm curious to hear your thoughts on the matter. She told us yesterday that the tattoos are all new, but they're all so ornate that the black square on her left shoulder struck me as odd. I couldn't help wondering if it's covering up another tattoo."
Kurt had wondered that as well. "She didn't have one there when I knew her, but they're not all new." He opened the folder he had dropped on his desk when he walked in and pulled out the photo of her inner left forearm. "The ES on her wrist here—" he tapped the picture for emphasis, "—it's her mother's initials, Emma Shaw. She got it on the second anniversary of her mother's death." He'd held her hand while she'd had it done.
Cole frowned as he leaned forward to study the photo. "Why would our unsub choose to cover up one of her tattoos, but not the other? It doesn't make sense."
"Maybe that tattoo would have given us some clue as to her whereabouts these past few years," Kurt suggested. Of course, that opened up the disquieting possibility that Taylor had been held against her will for god only knew how long. The information Cole had unearthed so far pointed in that direction as well. He sighed as he ran a frustrated hand through his short hair. They were two days into the investigation and they had not one solid lead to show for it. "It's really starting to feel like we're spinning our wheels on this one, Bryant."
"Patience, Weller," Cole said sympathetically. "We've been on this less than forty-eight hours, and we just released a photo of Taylor to the media last night. There's a good chance that will generate a credible tip by the end of the day."
"Maybe," Kurt agreed, but he wasn't at all hopeful. The contradictions between Taylor's actions that they had unearthed so far and the girl he thought he'd known were so troubling that he was no longer sure his insights would be of any value. This case felt like one that was going to hit more dead ends than green lights. He changed the subject. "I know you must have spoken to Taylor by now. How is she doing?"
"Better than I would be under the circumstances," Cole admitted with a faintly admiring laugh. "That's one feisty lady you've got there, Weller. She intimidated the hell out of the polygraph examiner yesterday. Actually stopped in the middle of the test, unhooked herself from the machine, and demanded to speak to someone in charge."
That, at least, was so like his Taylor that Kurt couldn't help but smile as well. "She was never shy about making her needs—or her wants—known." Not from the time she was old enough to voice them. Not even before that.
Cole smiled in return, but it faded quickly. "That's got to be doubly frustrating for her now then. When I dropped her off at the safe house last night, I told her to have the security guys pick her up some food if she was hungry, but she had no idea what she liked." He couldn't imagine what it must be like to not know something so basic about yourself. And to stare in the mirror and see a stranger's face looking back at you . . .
"I can write you out a list of her favorite foods to give to her," Kurt said gruffly, more affected than he cared to admit by that image as well.
"Why not give it to her yourself?" Cole asked. "She wants to meet you."
Kurt stilled. He should have been expecting that request, and maybe a part of him had, but it was still a shock to hear it voiced aloud. Since Mayfair had chosen to remove him as lead agent, he'd almost convinced himself he could stay apprised of the developments in Taylor's case without having to interact with her. A vain hope, if ever there was one. "I, uh . . ."
"Look, I don't know exactly what went down between the two of you all those years ago, and I don't care," Cole bit out. "It's obvious to me that the two of you were much more than friends and that it ended badly, but as far as I'm concerned, no matter who was at fault, unless and until she regains her memories, you need to let it go. That woman has been through hell, is going through hell, and at the moment, you're the only link she has to her past. I'm not going to referee all your interactions; if you're not willing to meet with her and start filling in some of those blanks, then I'm going to recommend to Mayfair that she take you completely off this case."
I'd like to see you try, Kurt thought hotly before he paused to consider the fairness of the other man's words. Bryant was right: no matter their past, Taylor deserved the same measure of compassion he would give to any other victim, the same level of professionalism he would bring to any other case. If he couldn't do that, if he couldn't be a part of the solution, at the very least he could avoid adding to her problems. He blew out a breath as he met Bryant's eyes. "You're right. I'm sorry. Would you like me to meet with her now?"
Cole shook his head. "Jane's in a session with Dr. Borden right now. Actually, he mentioned yesterday that there was a chance familiar stimuli might help her to remember something, and I'd like to test that theory before the two of you are formally introduced, if you don't mind. Perhaps you could drop by the bullpen in thirty minutes or so, see if your face triggers any memories for her."
Kurt very much doubted he was the familiar stimuli Dr. Borden had had in mind when he suggested that. Or maybe he was. The good doctor hadn't exactly been shy in voicing his disapproval of Mayfair's proposed secrecy, and Kurt suspected he was the type that would go to any lengths necessary to protect his patients.
Cole cleared his throat and Kurt belatedly realized that he was still waiting for an answer. "I'll be there," he promised, and was relieved when Bryant finally got up to leave. He was going to need every one of the ensuing minutes to prepare himself for that reunion.
When he walked into the bullpen a few minutes past the agreed-upon time, all hell had broken loose. Kurt arrived just in time to hear Bryant tell Taylor, "I am not going to take you out in the field."
Out in the field where? Kurt wondered as he came to a stop next to Reade and Zapata. Judging by the tense body language of Bryant's team, he had missed an important break in the case, but before he could ask one of his agents what was going on, Taylor diverted their attention again.
"Am I under arrest?" Taylor demanded as her eyes connected briefly with the intense blue-eyed gaze of a stubbled man standing behind and to the left of Agent Bryant. He was looking at her as if he could see into her very soul, and she couldn't help the shiver that snaked down its way down her spine.
"No, you're not," Bryant told her, wondering how on earth he was going to convince this incredibly stubborn woman to stay here where she'd be safe. He could feel Weller's hot gaze on his back, and he knew instinctively that no matter the discord between those two, there would be hell for him to pay if anything happened to her.
Fortunately, Mayfair intervened. "Look. We'd all feel a lot more comfortable if you stayed in protective custody."
Taylor glanced from Mayfair to Bryant. "Well, I would feel a lot more comfortable if I could ask this guy why his address is stamped on my head, so unless you are detaining me, I am going." Bryant looked to Mayfair for help, and Taylor turned to her as well.
Clearly, there was going to be no dissuading the woman from her decision. Mayfair nodded to Bryant. "Take her with you."
Taylor's gaze fell on the stubbled man again for a brief instant as she turned on her heel and strode to the elevator. His blue eyes were blazing, and she found herself wondering what she had done to upset him so. Perhaps he was the childhood friend Agent Bryant had told her about, the mysterious Agent Kurt Weller whose name was tattooed on her back. Concern for her seemed to be the most likely explanation for his apparent fury at her actions. She made a mental note to ask Bryant once they had confronted Chao.
Kurt turned to Mayfair as soon as the elevator doors had closed on Bryant's team, intending to protest—strongly—her decision to let Taylor go with them, but she held up a hand before he could utter a word. "My office. Now." She led the way into the room and rounded on him as soon as the door closed behind him. "Let's get something straight right now. Just because I am allowing you to help work this case does not mean you get a say in how it's run. I'm willing to give you a little latitude here because of your relationship with Taylor, but if you have a problem with any of the decisions I make, I expect you to come to me privately, not air your grievances in front of everyone. Understood?"
He was certainly getting his share of dressing-downs today. Not that he didn't deserve it. He'd seen the sideways glances all the agents were giving him—even his own team—and he was well aware he'd just given them cause to speculate about him and Taylor. That increased scrutiny wasn't going to be beneficial to either one of them, and he silently cursed his lack of self-control. "Yes, ma'am. I understand. But letting Taylor go out in the field—"
"She was going to go regardless of whether I let her or not, Weller," Mayfair said gently. "I have no probable cause to detain her here against her will, and it's much better that she's with trained agents than out there on her own. We're assuming that this unsub's plan, whatever it is, is aimed at you, but it's possible someone could have a grudge against her as well. I didn't assign her a protective detail just for the hell of it." It was far too expensive a decision to be taken lightly.
Mayfair's face softened as she watched her words sink in. "I know it's been a difficult couple of days for you, Kurt. Unless a critical incident comes up, why don't you catch up on your paperwork, take off early tonight." She hesitated before offering her next suggestion. "And it might not be a bad idea to start seeing Dr. Borden on a more regular basis to talk through some of your issues regarding Taylor now that you're going to be seeing her regularly again."
"I'll think about it," Kurt said as he followed her over to the table and took the seat across from her. He really didn't feel that was necessary, but dismissing it out of hand would only cause unnecessary friction. "What can you tell me about this lead Agent Bryant and his team are following? I missed that part of the conversation."
"The Chinese tattoo behind Taylor's left ear was today's date and an address in Chinatown. The address belongs to Chao Zheng, a Chinese national with a clean record who's been here for three years. That's all we know at this point. Bryant is going to check in as soon as they talk to him."
"Please . . . let me know when you hear something," Kurt requested, and when Mayfair nodded, he rose and fled to the sanctuary of his own office. Judging by the furtive looks other agents were giving him as he passed, the gossip about him and Taylor was already well underway.
He was definitely going to be taking Mayfair up on that offer to leave early tonight.
xxx
Weller wasn't on the case.
The bearded man watched from the shadows across the street as the FBI team left Chao's apartment and sped away in search of him. They'd feared this might happen, given their girl's connection to him, but he'd been hoping against hope that Mayfair would see their past as an asset rather than a liability.
Unfortunately, she had left them no choice but to force her hand.
He sighed as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed out a quick message to another member of their group. He'd been hoping not to have to use this particular contingency plan, but orders were orders and he was a loyal soldier. They both were.
He sent the message and hopped in his own vehicle to resume his surveillance of the FBI.
xxx
Normally, Kurt hated being cooped up in his office doing paperwork, but today he found himself appreciating the peace and quiet. Unfortunately, it didn't last as long as he would have liked. Shortly after lunch, reports of Taylor's exploits began circulating through the office, and Zapata seized on the opportunity they afforded her to appease her curiosity by apprising him of every one of them.
Taylor had personally translated the tattoo that gave Agent Bryant's team their first lead in her case. (Was she fluent in Chinese when you knew her, boss?)
She didn't speak Chinese, but she did have an aptitude for languages, so it doesn't surprise me. She had been fluent in three, and knew bits and pieces of another half dozen.
Taylor did in fact have another tattoo under the black square on her shoulder, an eagle holding a trident and anchor, suggesting she might have been a Navy SEAL. (Did she have plans to enlist in the military?)
No, Zapata, she wanted to be a doctor. Once again, he found himself wondering why she had abandoned that dream.
Taylor had put two Chinese men in the hospital defending one of the men's battered wife while Agent Bryant's team was at Chao's apartment. (Do you think she really was a Navy SEAL?)
That would explain a few things. Like why they had been unable to track her whereabouts for the past nine years. She took martial arts classes with me as a kid, but she didn't learn to fight like that at our local dojo. The real question was why Bryant had left Taylor unattended long enough for her to get into such an altercation.
Soon, Bryant had even more to answer for: he had allowed Taylor to accompany his team to Liberty Island in pursuit of Chao, and Chao had shot her. Granted, she'd been wearing a vest and the bullet had just grazed her arm, but Bryant never should have put her in that position. Kurt was definitely going to be having a serious chat tomorrow with him and Mayfair about Taylor's role in this investigation.
He couldn't deny his first reaction had been pride when he heard she'd saved Bryant's life, however.
xxx
"Thanks for walking me to my car again tonight, Sam," Sarah told the middle-aged security guard as they stepped off the elevator into the parking garage. He had volunteered for the duty for as long as she needed him yesterday after she had shared a few details of the potential threat against her brother. Against her family. "I really appreciate it."
"I'm happy to help," Sam replied as they walked through the dimly lit garage toward Sarah's car. Both his brothers were cops and he would have been as well, had an old football injury not disqualified him from serving in that capacity. As sorry as he had been to hear about the threat against the Wellers, it had provided him with an opportunity to feel more useful than he had in years, and he was determined to ensure Sarah's safety, even if it came at the expense of his own.
Some sacrifices were worth making, after all, he thought, smiling down at her as he pulled her car door open for her.
xxx
Even though Taylor's wound had been minor and the paramedics had bandaged her up, Cole had insisted on them taking her to the hospital to get checked out and had personally accompanied her, feeling like it was the least he could do after she had gotten injured on his watch. Also, he admitted to himself, it had given him a brief reprieve from the inevitable confrontation with Weller over today's events. "Thanks for saving my life today," he told her as the elevator opened on the parking level. He motioned for her to step off first, and the two of them walked through the parking structure to the car his team had dropped off there for him.
"Don't mention it," Taylor said with a faint smile. She wasn't being modest; she genuinely didn't want discuss the day's events at the moment. None of the abilities she had discovered today felt real, and as kind as Agent Bryant had been to her, she didn't feel a connection with him that would make her comfortable talking about her feelings.
Unbidden, her thoughts returned to the man she had seen in the office this morning. Somehow she didn't think that would be a problem with him, and she shivered again at the memory of how intensely he had stared at her. Who was he? she wondered again, but before she could bring it up, they reached the car.
She would ask him on the ride home, Taylor decided as Cole opened her car door for her.
xxx
The man's hands were steady as he peered through the scope of the sniper rifle in his hands into the parking garage across the street, watching as the man and woman approached the car he had been surveilling for the better part of an hour.
He'd already been given the green light to take the shot, and he lined it up as the man opened the car door for the woman, taking a deep breath before placing his finger on the trigger and pulling it in one smooth motion.
He didn't bother to look back through the scope to ensure the bullet had hit its target; he never missed.
Even before his victim hit the ground, he was calmly packing up his rifle. Once that was done, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a return text to the man who had messaged him earlier.
Mission accomplished.
He strolled calmly out of the building well before the police arrived and disappeared into the night.