Kage turned back to Cullen. “Sebreta S. Cullen, you are hereby dismissed from your position as director of Custodial WITSEC here at the Northern District of Illinois.”
“But I didn’t mean—”
“And off the record,” he said icily, “you’re a vile human being, and I will personally make certain that criminal charges will be filed against you.”
“You won’t find—”
“Oh, we will,” Prescott assured her, her voice and hands shaking. “We most certainly will.”
“Come with us, please,” Taylor directed, now off the phone, lips pursed, eyes blazing, utterly rippling with barely controlled anger.
Cullen moved around her desk and stood before Kage. “This is a witch hunt because you’re gay and you’ve hated me from the start.”
The muscles in his jaw corded, and really, I knew he’d never hit a woman, but if he did, no one in that room would have said a word. “Madam, before today I had no earthly idea who you were or that you were not doing your job, and that’s my failure. I trust others to oversee different departments in this building and have recently been reminded that, unless I pick the supervisor myself, I can have no real confidence in the reporting. Had you done your job, you would never have seen me. As things stand, you’re terminated with charges pending a formal inquiry. You will remain on house arrest until we complete our investigation.”
“You can’t do—”
“He can, he has,” Taylor informed Cullen, her voice brittle. “And had he not, I would have, so come with us, Ms. Cullen. We need to go over the expectations of you during this transition time, and the limits of your travel to and from your home.”
“I’m not a criminal!”
“You certainly are,” Kage intoned, turning his back on the room, clearly done speaking to the horrible excuse for a human being, purposely breathing in slowly, I suspected, so he didn’t explode.
After Cullen was removed, we stood quietly for a few minutes as a team in coveralls came in and started dismantling the office in front of my eyes, taking photographs and paintings from the walls, packing up framed awards and certificates, boxing up tchotchkes and candles, the pens on her desk, and pictures of her family. It was so cold and impersonal to watch.
“Oh, Sam,” Prescott said, taking a halting breath.
He turned to look at her.
Elbow braced on the desk, her face was in her hand as she stared at the screen, trembling, her eyes filling fast. “You need to have Jones meet with a lot of these kids right now—yesterday—or we’re going to have more—oh God.”
“Tell me,” Kage demanded.
She took a shaky breath, hand over her mouth for a moment, moving her fingers as though tiny shocks were moving through them before she straightened and put her palm down on the desk with what seemed like considerable effort, getting herself under control before she addressed him. “You’ve got a boy in the morgue right now.”
“How old?”
“Sixteen.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry, but I need you to come back for at least three months. I need you to tell me who’s good, if any, in this department, and supervise here on-site while Jones conducts the field interviews. It’s a two-person job until we can get all the current, as well as the incoming, kids accounted for and situated.”
“Yes,” she agreed.
“And he needs an assistant.”
“For an interim position?”
It appeared their eyes locked, like they were sharing a brain for a second, and I felt like I was witnessing that silent communion I’d read about but never seen in real life. A moment later, they both turned to me.
“Sir?” I asked Kage.
“Get him an assistant,” he told Prescott before he turned for the door.
“Mills?” she asked.
“Mills,” he echoed as he walked out.
I watched him leave, his retreating back holding my attention.
“Jones.”
All my focus returned to Prescott.
“That man has all the faith in the world in you. You get that, right?”
I tried not to grimace because… was she serious? Me? All he had? All Sam Kage had? Anyone in their right mind would leap at the chance to be the one he called upon for anything because if he had any kind of trust in you at all, it was worth the world. But I wasn’t his go-to guy; I couldn’t be. There were others so much more qualified than me. “I think I’m all he’s got at the moment.”
She shook her head. “I worked for him a long time, and he’s never unprepared.” Quick breath. “You need to give yourself some credit here. If he didn’t think you could do the job, he’d never put you in charge.”
I let that sink in. What I knew of him and what a dumbass he always treated me like were at odds with her words. Could it possibly be that Kage did not think I was a complete doofus? And I knew he didn’t because otherwise I wouldn’t be on his team, but would it have killed him to tell me that? To say, even in passing, “You know, Jones, you don’t totally suck.” I could only imagine what being his child must be like. Strong and silent was all well and good if you knew you were loved, or in my case, respected.