Humpty Dumpty: The killer wants us to put him back together again (Book 1 of the Nursery Rhyme Murders Series) (8 page)

“And here she be, my friend,” Bilal yelled over his shoulder. Or at least that’s what Had thought he was saying. Everything that came out of the driver’s mouth was loud and somewhat unintelligible.

“Great!” Had said, looking out the window. “Um. Do you think you could maybe slow down for a second?”

“You are seeing me and how I are looking, no?” Bilal waved his hands up and down his form, circling his face a few times. “It is not for me to be slowing down outside this place of all places.”

“Yeah, good call,” Had answered back. He could try to pretend that it wouldn’t be an issue, but whom would he be kidding? Even if Bilal got the meaning of the whole thing, the guy wasn’t stupid. His particular look wasn’t really “in” right now when it came to keeping security tight around the nation’s most important monuments.

Besides, much as he wanted to spend some time around the White House, right now it was more important to get out to Quantico. He would much rather be early than even a few moments late. It was his first day on the job, and his mama had always talked about how important that initial impression was.

Comb your hair, be on time, smile lots and try not to talk too much.

Well, he tried to get three out of the four. He glanced at himself in the rearview mirror at his hair that was sticking up at all angles. Okay, two. He had a great smile.

And now he was headed to Quantico, Virginia. He was going to see the world-famous FBI Academy. Hell, he was going to work inside it, alongside some of its graduates. His skin was buzzing like he’d gone on a diet of nothing but coffee and Red Bull, but there was nothing artificial about this high. He’d earned it, baby.

He went over the details of the case in his head. After going through the files four more times last night, even the most obscure pieces of the puzzle were embedded in his head deeper than any hidden file on a server.

The most fascinating, though tragic, parts of the case were those involving Agent Joshua Wright. The guy seemed to be some kind of BAU legend. Not a top tier student—at least not at first. But when the future Agent Wright had been introduced to the realm of behavioral analysis, he’d shot to the front of the class in no time flat.

His fall had been just as steep a progression as his rise to prominence, just in the opposite direction. Agent Wright had managed to burn every bridge that his brilliance had ever built. It was like he had adopted some kind of scorched-earth policy. No one seemed to speak ill of him, but that was mostly due to the fact that they all knew the story. No one wanted to be the one to flog the dead horse.

Had didn’t have any brothers or sisters, and it was only his mama now. His dad had died when he was about seven. He’d been a mortician, which was probably where Had’d gotten his inappropriate and rather morbid sense of humor. Oh, and his ease around dead bodies. Couldn’t overemphasize that one. It might be at least part of what had gotten him this job.

Shaking his head to get back on track, Had thought about his mama. If she were to pass away… He shook his head again. If he was going to play this game, he might as well play for keeps. If she were to be killed by a homicidal maniac and thrown in a wood chipper, what would Had do?

The answer was immediate and clear. Fall apart seven ways from Sunday.

And Agent Wright had lost his wife and three daughters. Had’s mind boggled. There was no way that anyone could handle that and still come out normal.

Which, according to Coop, was exactly what had happened to Agent Wright.

Almost as if his thoughts had conjured it, a text came through on his phone. It was from Coop.

I’ve got him. See you at 10.

Before she’d left, Coop had talked with Had about how she was going to convince the former agent to help. She’d been talking so loud it had almost burst his eardrum. It had felt to him like she was nervous, even though she’d never say it. Overcompensation, maybe? But whatever she’d done had apparently worked, and now their trusty crew of two had grown by fifty percent.

Had was thrilled. If it wasn’t enough that he’d get to work on a case that was urban legend, he was getting to meet a guy who had been a part of that whole thing
from the start
. That was pretty cool. More than pretty cool. Had would be doing his happy dance right now if he weren’t trapped in the backseat of a taxicab.

Screw that noise. He decided to do it in his head. No one could see him do that, now could they? He groped around in his head for a minute… there. That was it. That was the one. “Pocketful of Sunshine” by Natasha Bedingfield. He’d never admit it out loud, but it had been one of his favorites since he had heard it for the first time while watching
Easy A
. Emma Stone was so hot.

But then a stray and rather pointed thought intruded and popped the bubble of both his happy dance and his burgeoning mini-fantasy involving the redheaded star. Agent Cooper was one of the smartest people Had had ever met. And according to the way she’d been talking about him, Agent Wright was even smarter than that. Where in the hell could Had fit himself into that equation?

“So, my friend, what you go to Quantico?” Bilal’s voice intruded on his no-longer-quite-so-happy thoughts.

“Oh, um…” Had wasn’t positive what he could disclose, so he decided to play it a little bit safe. “I’m just working on something with the BAU… ah, the FBI.”

“BAU I know. I know this.
Criminal Minds,
no?” Bilal grinned at him in the rearview mirror. “You work for this?”

“Yeah. Yes. Well, sort of.” From the time he was young, Had had a problem keeping things simple. If even the smallest detail of the story was off, he had to fix it. Drove his mama nuts. But it had made his lies some of the most compelling in Ann Arbor. Some of the older kids had started hanging out with him just to use his skills.

“Sort of? How means ‘sort of?'”

“I’m just on loan. I’m from up in Michigan. Ann Arbor.”

Bilal nodded. “Ah. Small city, no? You must be having the smart pants.”

“What?”

“You. Smart, no?” Bilal pointed at his own head.

“No. I mean yes. Well…” Had sputtered. This was hitting him right where he was living. “I think no one else wanted the job. I mean, I’ve always been smart enough for Ann Arbor, but now…”

“Now you are playing with large men?” More sage nodding.

“If that means what I think it means, then yes. I’m a small fish swimming in a ginormous, ocean-sized pond.”

“Ah, yes, but you am thinking like small city.”

Had gave a sour bark of a laugh at that. “That’s exactly my problem.”

“No, no, my friend.” For the first time that Had had seen, the driver was shaking his head from side to side. “No problem. Good thing. You see what big city are not seeing.”

“You mean that I’ll notice things differently than them?”

Back to the nodding. “Yes. Yes, my friend.”

“Yeah, but that’s…” Had paused to think that through for a moment before continuing. “Actually, that’s kind of brilliant.”

“Yes! You are understanding this now.” Bilal pointed to his head again. “For I, too, am coming from a small cities. I am seeing things different.”

Had settled back in his seat, trying to absorb this new way of thinking. He had no idea how it would end up playing out, but it was possible that this Pakistani cab driver had given him the secret to succeeding with two of the smartest agents the BAU may have ever produced. There was something that Had was bringing to the table that no one else could.

Now all he had to do was figure out what that was.

Oh, and one more thing…

“Bilal, do you have a business card or something that I can use to get a hold of you?” The driver looked into the mirror as Had continued. “You know, in case I want to request you as a driver, or need to know something about the city.”

All Had could see in response were all of Bilal’s teeth gleaming in the rearview mirror as the driver reached into his glove compartment to pull out a card.

Had now had a friend in DC.

Another thought came to him. Something he’d been stressing about. “Hey, Bilal, one more thing,” he said as he took the card from the grinning driver. “What do you think of my boots? Too much?”

* * *

The day had started bad and hadn’t improved much since then.

Sariah would love to blame her headache on the heat—Quantico wasn’t much cooler than New York—but that wouldn’t take into consideration the considerable talents of the man sitting next to her. He had managed, in the past five hours, to piss off pretty much everyone around them.

He’d gotten into a verbal spat with the lady at the ticket counter at the train station. There had been the stream of emotional abuse when the conductor of the train came into the dining car to let Joshua know that he would no longer be served alcohol. And then there were the two teenagers who had ventured too close while he was trying to sleep through the remainder of his alcohol-free trip. That had almost ended in violence.

But now they were here. Back at Quantico.

It always surprised Sariah to realize that she missed the place when she was away. The FBI Academy building seemed to be modeled after the same design that inspired the J. Edgar Hoover building in DC. Same dirty tan color. Same boxy structure. Same prison-like exterior that screamed government building.

But something about the place… the energy or the smell, maybe—definitely wasn’t the people… that felt almost like home to her. That sense of homecoming was shattered when Agent Salazar stumbled upon them walking down the hall toward Special-Agent-in-Charge Nick Tanner’s office.

“Wow. Hey. Look at this,” the agent called out in a voice that was too loud. “It’s Agent Cooper back from chasing nursery rhymes.”

Sariah sighed. If there was one person she could have done without seeing today, it was Agent Ricardo Salazar.

“Oh, look,” she replied, keeping her tone pleasant. “It’s one of the king’s horses. Oh, wait. I’m sorry. It’s one of the horses’ asses.”

Salazar grinned in a smile that managed to bare almost all of his teeth. “I see what you did there. Humpty. You’re hilarious.” He turned away from her and faced Joshua, who was looking a little worse for wear. “And are we housing the homeless now?”

Sariah turned to face her companion. “Joshua, this is Agent Salazar. Salazar, this is Joshua Wright, former—” Sariah started.

“
The
Joshua Wright? Whoa. How the mighty have fallen.” Salazar leaned in toward Joshua, seemed to catch a whiff of him and backed away. “Fallen right into a puddle of whiskey and shit, apparently.”

Sariah winced. Based off of what had gone on so far today, this was not going to end well. And while Joshua might have been the cream of the crop back when he was an agent, he was a shadow of that former man. And still drunk for the most part.

But Joshua responded in a tone that was calm and civil. “Agent Salazar. A pleasure to meet you. I apologize for my… appearance. Traveling doesn’t suit me, I’m afraid to say.”

“Whatever, man. As long as you don’t touch my threads.” Salazar chuckled to himself, clearly pleased with his witty repartee.

“Of course not. Wouldn’t dream of it.” Joshua began moving again, then stopped and motioned to Sariah. “Agent Cooper. Shall we?”

They moved down the hall past Salazar’s earshot before Sariah whispered to her companion. “What the hell was that?”

“What?” he replied, his tone innocent.

“You all the sudden became the Duke of Salisbury or something?
'I apologize for my appearance
'?
'Traveling doesn’t suit me, I’m afraid'
?”

“Look, Salazar’s an ass. But rising to his bait’ll just make our lives more miserable.”

“Yes, but—”

“Coop,” Joshua cut her off. “Guys like that eat themselves alive. He’ll end up wallowing in middle management until he screws up enough that he either gets demoted or fired. Insulting him is like picking on the handicapped kid at recess.”

Joshua’s statement hit Sariah like a sledgehammer to the chest. Salazar had been her nemesis since she’d gotten here. Abusing her without stop, doing what he could to get her in trouble, basically making her life a living hell. And
she
was the bully?

“But—”

“Come on. Time to meet this forward-thinking idiot boss of yours that wants to resurrect the devil.”

Sariah followed behind him, trying to sort through what had just happened. No matter what she thought Joshua was going to do next, he surprised her at every turn. Just when she thought he was dodging left, he’d leap over her. Every time she was sure he’d stand his ground and fight, he bent over backward.

If he could get his life in order, he would be unstoppable.

For a moment, Sariah almost felt sorry for Humpty. Then she realized that she should be much more worried about herself. And Had. And anyone else here at Quantico who ran into the former agent.

God help them all.

* * *

Joshua stepped through the door of Special-Agent-in-Charge Nicholas Tanner’s office right behind Agent Cooper. Right at the last minute he’d slowed down and allowed her to pass in front of him. He was aware of how he looked, and as much as he wasn’t sure he wanted to be here, he didn’t relish getting escorted off the premises by security.

Not yet, anyway.

Agent Nick Tanner was a squat, built-like-a-brick wedge of a man. Even his very large brow added to that image. His thrusting blade of a forehead was emphasized by the fact that his blond hair was receding away from it at what appeared to be an alarming rate. The entire impression was of a linebacker in the slow process of going soft.

Until Joshua looked in his eyes. There he saw titanium. All the strength that Agent Tanner’s body had once possessed was reflected there.

Joshua hated him.

“Agent Cooper,” Tanner addressed her, coming out from behind his desk to shake her hand. “And Joshua Wright, I’m guessing?”

For some reason, the fact that Agent Tanner had neglected to call him agent or even former agent rankled him. Under normal circumstances, Joshua had no desire to have his former title linked with the man he had become. But now it felt like an insult.