Chapter 18 - The Agency Offer
That afternoon, Agent Daniel Brooks stopped by my house on Elm Street.
He was dressed in his usual crisp navy suit, holding two paper coffee cups from the local bakery that had recently reopened under new, honest management.
We sat on my newly painted front porch, the afternoon sun filtering through the gold and scarlet leaves of the oak trees in the front yard. Down on the grass, Sophie was throwing a tennis ball for Barnaby—a golden retriever rescue puppy we had adopted three months ago.
"The regional field office in St. Louis asked me to deliver this personally," Brooks said, sliding a thick manila envelope across the small wicker table.
I opened the envelope. Inside was an official letter bearing the gold seal of the United States Department of the Treasury.
It was an offer of permanent appointment as a Senior Supervisory Forensic Auditor for the Special Investigations Unit.
"Full federal benefits," Brooks said, taking a sip of his coffee. "Work from home four days a week. You set your own schedule, pick your own cases, and report directly to regional command. No local bureaucracy. No crooked politicians."
I looked down at the letter, running my fingers over the embossed seal.
Two years ago, this would have been my dream. It was the pinnacle of the career I had trained for before Ryan convinced me to shrink my ambitions to fit his small-town ego.
I looked up from the paper and watched Sophie.
She was laughing hysterically as Barnaby tripped over his own oversized paws, rolling across the green grass with the tennis ball clutched between his teeth. Her laughter was bright, pure, and completely unburdened by fear.
I folded the letter neatly and slid it back into the envelope.
Brooks raised an eyebrow. "You're turning it down?"
"I’m not turning it down, Daniel," I smiled, looking out over my peaceful front yard. "I’m countering."
"Oh? What’s the counter?"
"I’ll take the contract on an independent consultant basis," I said. "I choose the cases I want to investigate, I work exclusively from this porch, and when Sophie gets home from school at three-fifteen, the computer turns off."
Brooks stared at me for three seconds, then let out a rich, genuine laugh that echoed down the quiet street.
"You're a tough negotiator, Mitchell."
"I learned from the best," I said, raising my coffee cup in a mock toast.
May you like
"Deal," Brooks said, clinking his cup against mine. "The Director will sign off before five o'clock."
***
