Chapter 70: If You Die, I'll Say Terrible Things at Your Funeral

Samantha's POV

Heavy boots thundered down the corridor outside Harrison's destroyed office. The sound grew louder, accompanied by sharp commands and tactical gear rattling. I stood frozen by the shattered window, wind slicing through my jacket, watching Matthew carefully step away from the glass debris.

The door exploded open. FBI security agents flooded in with weapons drawn, tactical lights sweeping across us with blinding intensity.

"Nobody move! Hands where we can see them!"

I raised my hands slowly, squinting against the harsh beams. The lead agent swept the room before his light found the destroyed window.

"Jesus Christ. Where's SAC Harrison?"

"He jumped." The words scraped my throat raw.

The agent moved to the window and peered into the darkness below. "Command, this is Bravo Team. Target location is empty. Subject appears to have escaped via the window. Initiate building perimeter search immediately."

The security chief stepped forward. Her name tag read 'MITCHELL,' and she looked like she'd rather be anywhere else. "Agent Thompson, walk me through exactly what happened here."

I drew on every ounce of FBI training to project calm professionalism. "SAC Harrison admitted to having insider knowledge of the Parker case. When we pressed for details, he became agitated and made statements about systemic corruption. Then he chose to escape rather than face questioning."

Mitchell's pen scratched across her notepad. "What kind of statements?"

"General complaints about the system being rigged. Nothing specific." The lie came too easily. I couldn't tell them about my parents, about the murders, about the conspiracy. Not yet. Not until I understood who could be trusted.

Matthew shrugged with practiced nonchalance. "Honestly, pretty standard crazy person stuff. You know how it is when someone snaps."

His dismissive tone was perfect. Sarah found her voice from against the wall. "It all happened so fast. One minute he was talking normally, then he just lost it."

Mitchell continued taking notes. "And the files Agent Morgan discovered?"

"Standard corporate records, mostly. Harrison appeared before we could examine them thoroughly." I gestured toward the scattered papers, many now wet from wind and rain. "Most of them are ruined."

What I didn't mention was the folder hidden inside my jacket.

The next morning brought fluorescent lights and stale coffee in a sterile FBI conference room. Internal Affairs investigator Peterson sat across from me, sharp-eyed and relentless.

"Let's go over this one more time, Agent Thompson. You're certain SAC Harrison didn't reveal any specific information about classified operations?"

"He spoke in generalities about corruption, but nothing concrete. He seemed unstable, paranoid."

"And these Parker files?"

"We barely had time to glance at them before Harrison arrived."

Peterson made another note. "It's interesting that you'd choose to investigate those files without proper authorization."

Warning bells chimed in my head. "Agent Morgan discovered them during routine case research."

"Of course." Peterson's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Though it's curious how quickly things escalated once those particular documents surfaced."

When the interview finally ended, I walked through FBI headquarters feeling like a stranger. Colleagues offered condolences about Harrison's breakdown, but their expressions seemed forced.

Agent Collins intercepted me near the elevators. "Thompson, hell of a thing about Harrison. Who would've thought he'd crack like that?"

"It was shocking."

"Though between you and me, I always thought there was something off about him. Too secretive, you know?"

But Assistant Director Peterson's reaction caught my attention. She walked past with measured calm, remarkably composed for someone whose superior had just suffered a public breakdown.

"Agent Thompson," she paused. "Terrible business, but at least now we can move forward without these complications."

The way she said 'complications' sent ice down my spine. Not mourning a colleague's fall, but relieved that an obstacle had been removed.

Matthew appeared with perfect timing. "Deep thoughts, Thompson? You look like you're trying to solve world hunger."

"Just processing everything."

"Understandable. Not every day your boss goes full action movie villain and jumps out a window."

We found a quiet corner. Matthew's casual demeanor shifted. "That Peterson woman. Did you notice how happy she looked? Like Christmas morning."

"I noticed."

"Most people react to their boss's mental breakdown with some concern. She looked like she'd gotten a promotion."

My desk phone rang. 'UNKNOWN CALLER' flashed on the display.

"Agent Thompson."

The voice was electronically distorted. "If you want to know the truth, tonight at eight PM. Pier 12 warehouse. Come alone."

"Who is this?"

"Someone who wants to make amends. Remember, Agent Thompson. Alone. If you bring backup, you'll never learn what really happened to your parents."

The line went dead. Matthew noticed immediately.

"Let me guess. Another mysterious caller with cryptic instructions? Thompson, your life really is like a bad spy novel."

Twenty minutes later we sat in a small café. I filled Matthew in on the call.

"This is obviously a trap," he said. "Harrison disappears, and suddenly you get an anonymous tip about meeting alone in some isolated warehouse?"

"But it could be legitimate. Someone who knows the truth."

Matthew rubbed his forehead. "Thompson, after everything that's happened, everyone is a potential threat."

"Then what's your alternative? Just forget about my parents?"

"My alternative is that we go together. Full tactical gear, backup plans."

"The caller was specific. If I bring anyone, they won't show."

"So you're just going to walk into an obvious ambush?"

"I'm going to follow a lead. It's what agents do."

"It's what dead agents do."

My phone buzzed. Tyler's name, but the message made my blood run cold: "Sammie, there are men watching our house. Mom's scared."

I called immediately. "Tyler, what kind of men?"

"Government types in suits. They claim to be federal agents, but won't show badges or say what they want. They're just waiting."

In the background, I could hear Catherine's anxious voice.

Sarah appeared at our table. "Sammie, you look terrible. What's wrong?"

"Someone's threatening my family."

Matthew's casual demeanor evaporated. "Change of plans. I'm going to protect Tyler and Catherine. You handle your mysterious meeting."

"Matthew, no. I need you here."

"You need your family safe more." His tone brooked no argument. "Besides, if something happens to them while I'm babysitting you at some warehouse, I'll never forgive myself."

"If those are Harrison's people..."

"Then I'll handle Harrison's people. I'm good at handling problems."

Sarah looked alarmed. "This is insane. You can't go alone to meet some unknown person."

Matthew was already putting on his jacket. "Trust me, Morgan, I'd prefer to stick together. But family comes first."

He paused at my chair, his hand briefly touching my shoulder. "Thompson, promise me you'll be careful. No heroics. If this goes sideways, you run."

"Got it."

He studied my face. "I mean it, Samantha. If you get yourself killed tonight, I'll spend your entire funeral telling everyone what a stubborn, reckless pain in the ass you were."

Despite everything, I almost smiled. "That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me."

"I'm serious. I'll tell them about the time you nearly got us blown up because you couldn't wait for backup. And how you eat pizza with a fork like some kind of savage."

"Pizza with a fork is civilized."

"It's an abomination, and everyone at your memorial service will know it."

The familiar banter felt like armor against creeping fear. Matthew squeezed my shoulder once more, then headed for the door.

Sarah grabbed my hand. "He cares about you, you know. More than he lets on."

"I know."

Hours crawled by until evening shadows stretched across the city. I drove toward the waterfront district. Pier 12 was surrounded by warehouses and shipping containers that created perfect shadows for ambushes.

I parked two blocks away and walked the rest. The warehouse district at night felt like a different world, full of strange sounds and shifting darkness.

Warehouse 12 loomed before me, massive steel with broken windows staring down like dead eyes. I pushed open the heavy door, wincing at the metallic shriek.

Inside, darkness swallowed everything. "Hello? I'm here. As requested."

Floodlights blazed to life, temporarily blinding me.

When my vision cleared, I found myself looking at a familiar figure.

"Agent Thompson," Assistant Director Peterson said calmly, hands visible and empty. "Thank you for coming."

My weapon was in my hands before conscious thought took over. "You made the call."

"I did." Peterson's expression was apologetic but determined. "And yes, I want to make amends. There's quite a lot you need to know."

He slowly reached into his jacket and withdrew a thick manila folder. "Harrison told you part of the truth, but not all of it. This contains the rest."

My finger hovered over the trigger. "What Harrison didn't tell you is that the organization he was part of already knows about your investigation. And they're not pleased."

Ice flooded my veins. "What do you mean?"

Peterson's expression grew grim. "I mean they're moving against everyone you care about. Right now. Tyler, Catherine, Sarah... and Matthew."