Tough Justice: Twisted. Gail Barrett

“You feel out of control.”

      “I am out of control. He’s orchestrating everything—what happens, when it happens, who it happens to. I’m just reacting and frantically trying to keep up. I need to get ahead of him, to get control of the situation, but I can’t. Everything I do—questioning people, tracking down leads—just makes me feel scattered. I’ve lost my focus, and I can’t seem to get it back.”

      “Moretti.” His brows furrowed in concern. “You’re sure he’s the one behind this?”

      “Not entirely. That’s the hell of it. I think it’s him, but whoever’s doing this is smart. He keeps mixing things up, confusing me to the point where I really don’t have a clue. There have been shootings, a stabbing, even a kidnapping.” She shook her head. “I don’t know if it’s one person or two, whether it’s him or someone else. I’ve even begun worrying that someone in the FBI could be involved, either working with him or alone. I’m getting paranoid, doubting everyone. I don’t even trust my own judgment anymore.”

      Dr. Oliviero pursed his lips. “This person knows you well. He knows how much that would bother you.”

      She pictured Moretti with his mocking eyes. “Yes.” No doubt about it. And it was a brutally effective tactic. It made her feel ten years old again, as powerless as the day her mom had died. Her world had been destroyed that day, leaving her defenseless, unprotected. And with her father under suspicion, she didn’t know who to trust.

      “This is definitely directed at me,” she agreed. “He’s been killing the people around me, writing me notes, even targeting victims who have my name.” She forced herself to admit the truth. “I’m scared, Dr. Oliviero. I’m afraid that I can’t beat him, that he’s too strong.”

      “That’s what he wants.”

      “I know.”

      “And yet, no one is invincible.”

      “I know that, too.” Hadn’t she told herself that very thing? “But I’m finding it hard to believe right now. He has me at a disadvantage. I have to regain my focus or more people are going to die.”

      Dr. Oliviero leaned back in his chair. For a moment he didn’t answer, and she shifted her gaze to the window, watching a jet’s contrail streak the New York sky.

      “I want you to do two things,” Dr. Oliviero finally said. “First, I want you to think back to a case where you felt cornered, where everything seemed to be against you, but you persevered and won.”

      “But—”

      “Humor me. Tell me about that case.”

      Lara sighed. This sounded like a waste of time. But she’d asked for his help. Now she had to cooperate, no matter how pointless the exercise seemed.

      “All right. There was a case, right after I’d joined the Bureau. It was a joint investigation with the SEC. It had to do with insider trading. I went undercover as an administrative assistant at an investment banking firm. We knew someone was stealing non-public information. He was passing it along to his coconspirators who used it to make illegal trades. We already had experts analyzing the data. My job was more personal, to get to know the people at the firm and try to make a connection that way.

      “It was harder than I expected. Investment banking is a high-pressure business. Everyone works long hours. And with competition that cutthroat, no one confides in anyone else.”

      “But you didn’t give up.”

      “No.”

      “And you won.”

      “Yes. One of the bankers had a girlfriend. I started getting my hair done at the same place she did and was able to gain her trust. It turned out that she was making a lot of trips to Las Vegas. She was trading on the banker’s advice, laundering the profits through a casino out there, and then funneling it back to him. We finally connected the dots, and everyone involved served time.” In fact, that success had proven to her that she’d chosen the right career. “But that was nothing compared to this.”

      “I understand. You’re facing a far more formidable adversary this time, someone who knows you well and is using that knowledge against you. He’s playing on your emotions—not just your fear of failure, but your guilt.”

      “My guilt?”

      “Your strength is your weakness, Lara, and he knows that. You’re conscientious and driven, but that also makes you feel responsible for whatever goes wrong.”

      “I don’t just feel responsible. I am responsible. That ledge jumper asked for me, and he got shot. People are being murdered because they have my name, or because they’re someone I’ve questioned about the case. Cass was stabbed because of me. Victoria’s daughter was kidnapped to rattle me. There’s no doubt that I’m to blame.”

      Just like Xander once said.

      “And he’s using that sense of guilt to trip you up.”

      She heaved out a sigh. “Well, it’s working.”

      “Only if you let it.” Still holding her gaze, he braced his elbows on his knees. “I mentioned two things I wanted you to do. The first was to tell me about a case where you prevailed, even though the odds were against you. I wanted you to remember that when you persevere, you can succeed.

      “Now I want you to go deeper. I want you to tell me about a more recent case, one that affected you even more deeply. The one you don’t like to think about.”

      Her heart lurched. “You mean Andrew Moore.”

      “That’s exactly what I mean.”

      “I don’t—”

      “You’re strong enough, Lara. And it’s time to deal with this.”

      “I already have.” She’d spent the past year anguishing over her failings and coming to grips with her mistakes. “I’ve already put it behind me and moved on.”

      “Have you? Really? Because I believe that unless you confront it—meaning you’re willing to talk about what happened—you won’t be able to fight back. And then he will win, Lara.”

      Her defenses rising, she crossed her arms. The last person she wanted to discuss with Dr. Oliviero was Andrew Moore. But she refused to continue running from her problems.

      And deep down, she suspected the psychiatrist was right. Unless she truly confronted her past, she’d never reclaim control of her life—and the people around her would pay the price.

      “All right.” Dreading it, she forced her mind back to Chicago, to those final days with Andrew Moore. “I liked him. He wasn’t what I’d expected. Maybe I wasn’t what he expected either. Maybe that’s why he trusted me, why we got so close. Too close.” Her face warmed, her stupidity shaming her even now. How could she have made such a huge mistake?

      “That didn’t stop me from doing my job, though. I continued gathering information even during our affair. We were getting ready to make the bust.”

      “Did that bother you, that you’d be arresting Andrew Moore?”

      “Of course.” The guilt had nearly driven her mad. “I wanted to warn him, to get him out of harm’s way, but I was torn. I couldn’t blow the mission. We had too many people undercover—people who’d be in danger if the truth got out—and I couldn’t predict what he would do. So in the end, I didn’t tell him. I waited.” Despising herself all the time.

      “We still hadn’t found Moretti. Until we did, we couldn’t make the bust. We knew he’d just relocate his organization and set up shop again somewhere else unless we put him behind bars.”

      But the noose had been tightening around her. The closer she got to Andrew Moore, the greater the chance that she’d blow her cover, a mistake that could have gotten them all killed.

      “Andrew