The Blackout Girl ✔️

chapter ten

Chapter Ten

Kaytee's phone went off an hour after the team had clocked in. For the most part, they were facing a lot of downtime, waiting for something to spark up some tasks to keep the agents occupied. Dre was going to check in with the forensics department later, and Nolan was waiting to see if any new details emerged that would either set Lexi free or convict her.

He was twiddling his thumbs at this point. No paperwork could keep him busy, and no leads were there. It was miserable. At least Kaytee was there to brighten things, smiling at him and being her usual self.

He was in the middle of sharing a joke he'd heard on the radio when the telephone on Kaytee's desk started ringing and rattling against the wood.

"Sorry," she said with a self-deprecating grimace. "Gotta take this."

"Go ahead," Nolan said.

"Kaytee Carlisle," she greeted, tucking the receiver next to her chin. "Yes, I'm with the violent crimes task force. You'd like to speak to our unit chief?"

Price? Why are they going to him? Nolan thought.

"I'll transfer you," she went on. "No problem. One moment, please."

She fiddled with the buttons on the keypad, and through the blinds covering the window in Price's office, they watched him answer.

"Who was that?" Nolan questioned.

"Dallas PD," she replied. "It must be something serious."

"Holy shit, it is," Darren confirmed, looking up from the screen of his iPhone. "The media's all over it. Another guy is dead in Dallas. The story just broke."

Dre shook his head. "Dammit. Do we know if the same person is behind it?"

Price chimed in from his doorway. "Not yet, but the MO seems consistent. They're going to send us in to be sure. Keaton, take Foster with you and get your asses down there."

"Yes, sir," Dre said. "You heard him, new guy. Chop, chop."

Nolan swallowed hard, preparing himself for the gore that awaited the pair of them. There were too many dead people that came with this job, but it was par for the course. He was making a difference, and that helped him swallow the darker details.

Dre drove. Nolan was quickly learning that the agents who'd been around longer frequently used their seniority over him. He would probably wind up as a perpetual passenger.

"I really thought we had her," Dre admitted.

"The whole team did," said Nolan.

"Not you. You've got good instincts, Foster."

"That doesn't mean anything when we're back to square one," Nolan grumbled.

"We'll find something. We always do," Dre assured him. "If there's one thing I've learned while working for the FBI, it's that every killer can make a mistake. Even one like this, who's done a damn good job covering her tracks, isn't perfect. She'll screw up, and when she does, we'll get her."

Nolan knew a lot about organized murderers. They were good at what they did, but Dre was right. For the most part, very few managed not to get caught. It wasn't a matter of if they would get ahold of the criminal, but instead one of when. He could only hope the body count stayed low before then.

"How do you know it's a woman?" Nolan asked.

"The evidence seems to be pointing in that direction. Call it a hunch."