Already Trapped (Laura Frost FBI)

“He’s at a construction site by the waterfront,” Nate said, nodding. “I called them before we set off. They would only confirm that he was employed there, not when he was working, so I guess he must be working. Should only take us a short while to get over there.”

Laura said nothing in response. She’d had to dig for the information, rather than him offering it. It felt like silence was the expected norm between them now. They both lapsed into it quickly, and for the whole of the ride neither of them said a word. Laura bit her lip, staring out the window miserably. None of this felt right. She guessed that this was just how it was now.

The construction site loomed welcomingly, at least offering a respite from the heavy silence. Laura jumped out of the car even before Nate had finished putting it in park, desperate to be out of the tiny tin box that kept them both so close and yet so distant. It was unbearable.

The site was a hive of activity. Two cranes sat dormant to the side, glinting slightly in the pale sun, but below them the ground was alive with workers. There were a number of buildings going up alongside one another at the same time, or perhaps it was all part of the same complex. One at the far side already had concrete walls going up, with marked-off spaces for windows. Another beside it was only a framework, and beside that was a framework still being put together. The rest of the lot was bare ground, dug and smoothed flat in preparation for the foundations.

A few cabins sat off to one side, temporary structures that bore signposts designating them as the site offices. Laura headed in that direction immediately, not waiting for Nate to follow her.

Maybe he could give her the silent treatment. But she could give as good as she got. If they were all about work now, then she would just work.

And maybe that was only going to end up driving an even bigger wedge between them, but Laura was too wrapped up in the emotional blow of his standoffishness to even think about whether her reaction was the right one. She only knew that it hurt, and the first impulse she had was to throw herself even further away from him so that the hurt would stop.

She knocked on the side of an open door before stepping up a couple of short steps into the first cabin, glancing around. There was a desk on one side occupied by a young woman in a pantsuit, and three more desks across the rest of the cabin scattered with plans and documents and loose hard hats. More hats and hi-vis vests hung on the wall, and the only other person inside was a man in a vest frowning in what seemed like deep concentration over a document.

“Hi,” Laura said, pulling her badge out of her pocket. “I’m with the FBI. I’m looking for a specific member of staff that we’re told is working at this site.”

“Of course,” the young woman said immediately, giving Laura a brittle smile. It was the kind of smile she saw often. Politeness, a willingness to help, but under it a fear that something was terribly wrong. “Can you give me their name?”

“It’s Peter Barton,” Laura said. Nate caught up with her, standing in the doorway of the cabin while she edged further out in front of the reception desk. “We’ll need somewhere private to speak with him. Can you suggest a good place on the site?”

“You can use the cabin next door.” Laura looked around to see that it was the man behind them who had spoken. “I’m the foreman here—it’s all right, Candy, I know where Pete is right now. I can bring him to you, if you’d like.”

Laura nodded. “That would be most appreciated. The cabin next door is empty?”

The foreman grunted, shrugging his shoulders and swiping a hard hat off the desk to set it on top of his head. He had a weathered, beaten look to him, his skin creased and sun-spotted, a telltale sign of a life worked outside. “If it isn’t, I’ll clear them out. Follow me.”

Even though Laura had done all of the talking, Nate was the one who slipped into stride with the foreman as they walked across to the other cabin. It was exhausting, all of this, already. Like they had to fight for control of the investigation between them, instead of operating as equal partners—as they always had.

True to the man’s word, there was no one in the second cabin. It had a set-up much like the first: safety equipment hung on the walls, desks scattered with papers and filing cabinets pushed against the walls. Laura figured that the people who worked in here were out on the site right now, supervising other workers in their roles. She leaned against one of the desks, letting herself rest slightly, but the feeling of unease only deepened when the foreman disappeared back outside to leave her alone with Nate.

She wondered what she could say. The thought of discussing their interview technique flashed through her mind. It wouldn’t normally. She and Nate were often so in sync that they didn’t need to. They would fall into the same roles time and time again, the ones that had proven the most effective in getting the truth out of people.

When she stood next to him, Laura normally felt confident. Powerful. The only question was whether they had the right man, and if he would break. But now, today, she felt nervous for the first time in a long time. Her mouth was dry, her palms damp.

She didn’t know how long she could take this for.

Nate lounged against another desk, as far away from her as he could get in the cramped space without making it look like they weren’t even together. The two of them face forward silently, just waiting for the suspect to appear. But when he did, with the gruff voice of the foreman sending him inside, Laura couldn’t help but jump slightly. She’d become so nervous, she wasn’t even prepared to see him.

He was taller than she had expected—almost as tall as Nate. He had a wide frame, probably enhanced by the physical labor of the site, and his skin held a deep tan. When he swept off his hat to step inside, he revealed a short crop of blond hair stuck to his head with sweat. He had evidently been in the middle of a job when the fore

man found him.

“You’re the FBI?” he asked, frowning.

“Peter Barton?” Laura asked.

“Yeah, what?”

Laura showed him her badge. “I’m Special Agent Laura Frost.”

“Special Agent Nathaniel Lavoie,” Nate said, quickly, as if trying to get in before she continued and cut him off. “We need to ask you a few questions.”

Barton scowled, looking between the two of them with clear annoyance. It was not the usual reaction of someone who had just been told the FBI wanted to speak with them. “Why did you have to come here?”

“Excuse me?” Laura said, taken aback.

“This is where I work,” Barton said, practically growling it. “It’s embarrassing. Couldn’t you have called first, or seen me at home?”