Firewall by DiAnn Mills

that could keep out a SWAT team.
    “Thank you, Agent Hall.” She stared at him in the shadows, hoping she’d see compassion. “I appreciate your giving me the opportunity to tell you what I’ve learned.” They walked together down the hall, where a faint light from the pastor’s office cast a golden path. She hoped it was a good omen.
    “I have one hour to listen to what you have to say.” He swung a look and cringed.
    “I’ve seen my reflection in the mirror,” she said. “I’m a little colorful, but I’ll heal. Of course, I could leave here in a body bag.”
    “That’s not my intention.”
    She believed him and told herself this wasn’t another bad decision. “I’m in the second office on the right. It has a sofa and chair.”
    “You probably need to sit.”
    She led him to where she’d taken residence. Would he jam a gun into her back and slap handcuffs on her wrists? She swallowed hard. “It’s very quiet. A little unsettling.”
    “Doubt if the building is haunted.”
    “Depends on what spirits are here.”
    He chuckled. “Good call.”
    “Are you wired with a team waiting outside?”
    His brows narrowed. “No, and I’m taking a risk.”
    “Why?”
    “A hunch. Against FBI protocol. Never mind my reasoning.”
    They sat on opposite ends of the sofa. This was a beginning to push the past several hours in the right direction.
    “What do you have to tell me?” Hall said.
    Her hands shook. “I’ve been so stupid. Now I’m angry at myself for thinking Shep cared.”
    “What caused you to reach out to me?”
    “Putting pieces together . . . and a feeling in my spirit.” That sounded lame. “Not a woman’s intuition but a spiritual urge.”
    He nodded as if he understood. “Has Shep contacted you?”
    “I saw him earlier tonight. He threatened me.”
    “Where? What did he say?”
    She envied how he looked so relaxed. “A bus stop several blocks back. I’m sorry. I was so upset, and I don’t remember which one. Finding Claire in her studio put me into a panic state. Anyway, I stopped at a couple of places to search for more information about Zoey and Shep. Everything pointed to your being right, but I didn’t want to believe it. Then at the bus stop, I saw a frightening side of him. He became belligerent when I wouldn’t go withhim. He said I had something he wanted. That I’d end up dead without him.”
    “How did you get away?”
    “I know self-defense, as you probably already figured out.”
    He nodded. “Do you mind if I record our conversation?”
    “Go right ahead.”
    “I’ll take notes too.” Grayson flipped open his BlackBerry, pressed a button, and grabbed a small notepad from his jacket pocket.
    “Why don’t you take notes on your phone?”
    He smiled, the first she’d seen. “I’m a little old-fashioned.” He jotted down what she assumed was information about her. “Tell me what’s happened since the day you met Francis Shepherd, whose real name is Phillip Murford.” He lifted his gaze. “I’m sorry. Should have been a little more considerate with the news.”
    The alias cut through her like a knife. “Who is he?”
    “A former Navy SEAL who’s done time for armed robbery and murder.”
    “What proof do you have?” Contempt for Shep laced every word.
    Grayson showed a prison pic of a man on his BlackBerry. “Here’s a photo of Phillip Murford. What do you think?”
    A few cosmetic changes, but the same man. She tilted her head. “The nose is wider.”
    “Maybe a nose job.”
    More events darted into her thoughts, and she pointed to Murford’s picture. “I remember him complaining of a headache. Said he’d fallen playing soccer with some friends and broken his nose. That would fit.” She shook her head. “I feel like such a fool. A whole lot of good my IQ did when it came to judging his character.”
    “Emotions can deceive us.”
    “Make us feel like idiots. Like I should be in a straitjacket.”
    “Understand you’re doing the