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ROSALIE taps her finger along the keyboard, moving the arrow down as she listens to Garcia on the phone. "How many times did you say he flew out to New York in a month?"
"Four, once each weekend, and only for two days — he'd be back in DC by Monday. And he's called the same number two hundred and four times in the last four months, even while he was with you all."
"Can you trace the number, Garcia?"
"Is the sky blue? Of course, I can, sweets."
"Thank you, Penelope." She replied as she turned her necklace around. She heard Penelope tapping on her keyboard before the blonde replied.
"So, the number is registered to a Jonathan Wales. The last call went out last night and was 3 minutes long. And before you ask, I already sent the address to your tablet. Do you need anything else?"
The brunette ran a hand through her hair and hummed lowly. "Can you look into Jonathan for me? I'll call you if I need anything or you can just call me."
"Of course. Be careful, please."
"I will. Thanks, Garcia."
"My pleasure." The phone cuts off and she sets it down as she grabs Peter's bag and opens the zipper, pulling out a notebook, and opening it, the smell of ink from a pen filling her nose. She flips through the pages, placing her thumb in a spot before her hand sticks back in the bag and she pulls out a manila folder with her picture pinned to the top with a paper clip. She pulls it loose and turns it over in her fingers, looking at the words behind it. RAS. Curiously, she opens it and sees her name, neatly printed at the top. It's her applicant file and the second file is filled with all her write-ups and reports, and evaluations that are done either by Sara, Grace, Michael or their boss — and not concerned with that information, she turns back to her personal file.
Applicant shows great promise, her moral compass is her largest guiding factor which can be good, but overwhelming in situations. She possesses excellent marksmanship, and she is one of the brightest recruits in her cohort. If successful in NAT training at Quantico, she would be an excellent addition to any FBI unit.
She turns the page, seeing the list of her next of kin, her parents, then her siblings. Dominic Salvatore-Olivera — Status: Alive, Marina Salvatore-Olivera — Status: Deceased, Nehavah Salvatore-Oliver — Status: Alive. Then there's Marco's name. She purses her lips together.
"What the hell were you doing with my file, Peter?" She murmurs to herself as she redirects her attention to the notebook, exhaling through her nose before rubbing her temple. She looks over his handwriting; frantic, plotting, scheming. All for her.
She lets a groan out just as Derek walks back into the conference room, and he raises his eyebrows as he sets her down a cup of coffee. "Everything okay?" He asked softly as she shook her head and looked up at him.
