Authors: Tamsen Schultz
The Puppeteer
Copyright 2012 Tamsen Schultz
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Cover Design by Greg Simanson
Edited by Julie Molinari
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.
PRINT ISBN 978-1-935961-51-2
EPUB ISBN 978-1-62015-055-9
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Library of Congress Control Number: 2012948618
Dedication
To Nav, even though
you don't read fiction
Acknowledgments
Books may be written in solitude but they certainly aren't published that way. I'd like to thank my first introduction into the world of professional writing and editing, Andrea Hurst of Andrea Hurst & Associates, Sarah Martinez (who is one of the most positive, encouraging writers and editors around) and my editor, Julie Molinari (who must have “who said this?” on auto-populate for me). Booktrope and the entire Booktrope team have also provided invaluable support, advice, and encouragement—while signing any new author is a leap of faith, I'm particularly thankful they made that leap for me.
Now on to the personal acknowledgements. Saying thank you to my family, who somehow manage to let me have blocks of hours to write but can't let me brush my teeth without needing something, seems so inadequate. You make me laugh, keep me grounded, encourage me, and remind me every day of what is really important. I am also grateful (and lucky) to have a number of amazing women in my life. Special thank yous go to Sarah C and Angeli, you may be thousands of miles away at any given time, but you're never far. And to Lisa, because you never let me doubt myself, Sarah A, because you're my partner in crime, and Jere, because under that fabulous Nicole Miller is one of the strongest women I know. And last but not least, to my parents who instilled in me both a love of reading and the knowledge that while there are some things I shouldn't do, there is very little I can't do if I decide I want to.
Contents
Chapter 1
AGENT DANIELLE “DANI” WILLIAMSON
examined the picture lying in front of her. The subject wasn't the man she was looking for. None of the other twenty or so photos she'd looked at were any closer. The subjects were either too young, too old, not the right race, not the right build, not the right gender. She sighed and slid them back into the envelope the courier had dropped off earlier.
Rising from the non-descript hotel bed, she walked to the window. The room was a hotel version of her utilitarian apartment in Washington, DC, and a far cry from her more luxurious apartment overlooking Central Park in New York. But she'd picked this hotel for a reason. It was seven blocks from the police headquarters, where she would be giving a briefing to the local vice department in the morning. And it was also three blocks from a bar owned by a family friend—a place she knew she could rack a few games of pool to help clear her head if she needed. And she needed.
Dani's hand jerked as she pushed the curtain further aside. Her body was as unsettled as her mind. She knew that until she was physically with her team, working their case, she wouldn't feel at ease. But, compliments of the team director, she was stuck here for a night, twiddling her thumbs. She was pretty sure he'd given the briefing assignment to her as warning not to go off half-cocked.
Pool
, she thought, moving toward her bag.
Grabbing a top that was more ‘woman’ than ‘agent’ she changed. Sliding on a pair of heels that were anything but sensible, she didn't
fool herself into thinking that a game or two, even if accompanied with a glass of wine, would take her mind off of the case at hand. But, glancing at her weapon in its holster on the bedside table, she could at least try to act like a normal person for a night, clothes and all.
Pulling out her gun safe, she placed her weapon inside, put the whole thing in her bag, locked the zippers together, and slid it under the bed. No, a couple of games of pool wouldn't take away the images in her mind, imprinted there for over half her life, and she didn't want them to. A game wouldn't erase her excitement about this case or the healthy anxiety she felt in believing she was
this
close to getting the answers she'd been seeking. But what a few games would do, what she was counting on them to do, was focus her mind on something else for a short time. If she didn't calm her mind down, she wouldn't be able to calm her body down. And if she didn't do that, she would never sleep tonight. And, though she could go hours without sleep, knowing she was giving the briefing tomorrow, knowing she would stand in front of a room full of alpha males and feed them half-truths, a little rest couldn't hurt.
Grabbing her key and her purse, she took one last glance at the room. The envelope lay on her bed. Since, out of context, there was nothing incriminating in the photos, she left it there. Everything else looked nice and normal, just like it should. Sliding her key into her clutch, Dani turned and headed into the night.
Chapter 2
NOT A FLICKER OF RECOGNITION.
Ty Fuller was impressed. Annoyed, but impressed. But, being honest with himself, he wasn't sure what irritated him more: the fact that, as good as he was at hiding his reactions, Agent Dani Williamson—or, “Ella,” as she had introduced herself last night—was better, or the fact that she was hiding hers at all.
“Nice to meet you Detective Fuller.” She shook his hand, as professional and as cool as the briefing room where they all sat, tucked away like errant children, on the fourth floor of the police headquarters.
“And you, Agent Williamson,” he responded, pleased that only a miniscule amount of sarcasm laced his voice. He wasn't being fair, and it wasn't as though he expected her to admit they'd already met, or that, not more than three hours ago they'd been ‘meeting’ each other in every conceivable way. But it didn't sit well on his wide shoulders that she'd no more than glanced at him when they were introduced. That she'd just given him the same perfunctory handshake she'd given all the other detectives in the room. Not even a smile.
“And this is Detective Warren, Fuller's partner.” Captain Jefferies continued the introductions by indicating the man standing to Ty's left.
“Detective.” She turned to the left and shook Warren's hand.
Ty pushed aside his personal bias, and let's face it, ego, and focused objectively on the person in front of him—not the woman
he'd met last night and taken home, but the agent working the room. Her tone didn't change from one officer to the next, she was seasoned and sure. Both her words and the way she said them were matter-of-fact and neither condescending nor nervous. Her demeanor was confident—free of any apprehension she might feel as a DEA agent stepping into local territory. She knew her job well.