Free Take the Fourth by Jeffrey Walton Page B

change the file and yes, mainly because it dealt with her uncle. She immediately picked up the phone and dialed Greg’s extension. As she waited for the connection, which was almost instantaneously, she glanced at her monitor and glanced at the report.
     
    “Hey Jorja, told you, what do you want me to do?” There was silence. “Jorja?”
    On the other end of the phone Jorja was now truly in shock. She was trying to reel her mind around what she just read but couldn’t grasp it. It went blank. Then she finally heard Greg on his fourth attempt.
    “Jorja, do you want me to flag this?”
    “Yes, flag it, flag it now, I’ll call you back,” and she hung up the phone and started to read the entire report. Her eyes stopped at a specific word. She stared at this word and couldn’t move past it. It was as if her eyes blurred out all other surrounding words on purpose, as if this word was in 3-D, and burning into her retinas. The word wasn’t really a word at all. It was a name—the name of Nash. She hadn’t thought of that name in quite some time and now that name opened a floodgate of memories.
     
    Greg got his answer. He removed the report from the file without so much of a reaction. His nimble fingers glided across the keyboard typing various commands and hitting various function keys and before any amount of time had elapsed the file was on its way back to the FBI with a new timestamp—a new timestamp and a missing report that would have seriously caused questions and concerns for a campaign duo that could take on the White House. Greg knew why she had flagged the report, although he thought he knew; given the circumstance he’d have done the same, and almost did but he wanted that decision to be hers. He didn’t need his ass on the line and what a thin line it was. Greg returned his eyes to a copy of the report he had just confiscated and reread it yet again. He took note of the facts and wanted to dig a little more, he wanted to find out who was the mystery woman, who was Ms. Nash. Again his fingers flew around the keyboard and not before long he had his answer. His jaw dropped as he read her file. One word stood out from the crowd, yet it wasn’t a word at all. It was a name, a name of a daughter, the name of his boss, the Deputy Director of DS&T, the name Jorja Carson. Now he knew the real reason she had him flag the report.
     
    She shook her head, she tried to gather her thoughts, but her mother’s name brought back memories of a gentler time, a happier time. Her mind filled with senses of long ago, containing sites of holidays, family, home, and smiles, containing smells and tastes of seafood, especially crab with old bay seasoning, and containing sounds of seagulls, waves, and her mother’s soothing voice. Her mind was so filled with joy from the past she didn’t notice the tears filling in the corner of her eyes. She remembered walking down to the dock in her backyard, stepping over the few loose boards, and seeing her mother’s boat. Carolina’s boat was huge… okay maybe not huge but to a six year old it was huge. It was her mother’s pride. It was aptly named The Carolina Crabber. Her father never ventured on the boat; he didn’t very much care for the water; he could never swim, so he was afraid of water but her mother… . well her mother should have been born with fins. She loved it. Jorja remembered boarding the boat and her mother immediately making her put on one of those puffy, smelly, bright orange life vests that was two sizes too big for her and very uncomfortable, but “them the rules” her mother would say…“them the rules”. Carolina was very well educated but always liked that phrase no matter how incorrect it seemed. Jorja remembered turning the key at her mother’s command and bringing the engine to life, then the ropes were lifted and the waters of the Chesapeake were theirs. They would ride to a secluded inlet, drop anchor and await the bluish crustaceans. Jorja’s