Grant Harvey hadn’t been the most likable agent during his tenure with the FBI. His stint in Violent Crimes had put him up against some of the worst criminals the country had to offer. But it was Harvey’s behavior toward the female agents he worked with that made him enemies along the way. Including Olivia.
“According to the hotel manager, the room was paid in full for the week, and Harvey had only checked in late last night.” Silas notched his gaze higher as the elevator announced their arrival, highlighting a cutting jawline and a small birthmark she’d memorized so many times over the course of their partnership. Eight years. That was all it'd taken to transform the man with a quick smile and charismatic charm into the repressed agent with weathered eyes. Something had changed, and a part of her grieved at the loss of the brightness in his eyes. But they weren’t here to relive the past. He’d made his choice, and she’d made hers. All they could do now was find out who’d wanted Grant Harvey dead. “I imagine your ME will have time of death for us soon, but I’m willing to bet someone either followed him to the hotel or was waiting for him inside the room.”
“That would explain why there were no signs of forced entry.” CSU’s search of the hotel room hadn’t resulted in any new leads, but there were still a number of tests and prints waiting to be processed. Olivia stripped out of her coat as she stepped from the lobby elevator onto BAU’s skyscraper penthouse floor. Smooth, modern lines directed them through the glass double doors. Controlled chaos filtered around her, and a buzz of comfort settled her nerves.
Seattle’s BAU was one of only four units in the country. With the team she’d built, this unit had successfully profiled and apprehended dozens of serial offenders not only throughout the city but down the West Coast since she’d taken over. Her heels caught random fibers of the industrial carpet as she headed straight for her office at the north end of the floor. Blinding hits of sunlight reflected off Puget Sound through floor-to-ceiling windows and danced across the walls as she rounded her desk. She tossed her coat over the back of her chair and took her seat behind the large expanse of oak. Her nerves settled with the added protection between them, but there was no ignoring the awareness her body seemed to emit whenever they were in the same room together. Olivia reviewed the reports spread across her desk as a distraction, but Silas had always been larger-than-life in her eyes. “Have you been in contact with the DC office? Does the deputy assistant director know why Grant Harvey was here in Seattle?”
“No. He doesn’t have family here as far as I’ve been able to tell, and none of his current cases would’ve brought him this far west.” Silas took a seat in one of the two navy blue chairs across from her. “But the AD did say Harvey had been acting strange the day before he’d requested to take a week of personal vacation.”
Olivia’s instincts prickled. “How so?”
“Distracted, agitated even, and according to Harvey’s clearance, he pulled a case file from the archives before he left work two days ago.” Silas swiped his thumb over his phone’s screen, then handed it off to her across the desk. “Charles Daggett’s.”
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