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“You mean innocent until proven guilty.”
“That’s what I said.” She pulls her head to the side, stretching her neck. “Just be careful, Harris.”
“Me? We both agreed to work with her.”
She looks at me. “Yeah, but you’re the one at risk of falling for her.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Really?” She levels me with a glare. “You’re like a dog panting and breathing hard every time she comes near.”
“I am not.”
A slow grin grows on her face. “Those comms pick up more than you think.”
Well, that insight is…unsettling. Can she hear my thoughts too? I roll out my shoulder and turn away from her. It’s my turn to hit something.
“I know you’re inexperienced around women but—”
“Inexperienced?” My fist glances off the dummy’s face and I glare at her. “I have dated plenty of women. And they all find me very charming, thank you very much.”
Her face scrunches, her gaze dropping down my body like she’s looking for something but comes up short. “Nah, your macho man image does nothing for me.”
“Good. We’re partners. You falling in love with me would be incredibly awkward since you’re not my type.” I kick the dummy, my foot missing Cruz’s face by two inches.
She crosses her arms. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’d be the one letting you down gently, like a tiny puppy.”
Did she call me short? Because I’m one inch shorter than her impressive six-foot-one-inch height?
I glance over her shoulder and then smile. “Hey, boss.”
Cruz snorts. “Good try. I know he’s not there or you would have stopped being such an a—”
“Good afternoon, Special Agent Cruz.”
The horrified look on her face makes all her previous ribbing worth it.
“Special Ag— I mean Supervisor Ford,” she chokes out, her face turning three different shades of red.
“Discussing a case?” he asks, wrapping tape around his wrist.
“Yeah, yup.” Cruz gulps.
“That’s what I thought,” he says.
“Going to go catch a criminal now,” she mumbles before hurrying off the mats.
I’m sick of my desk.
I lean back in my chair and scrub a hand down my face as confused as when I sat down two hours ago. We’ve been looking into Liam's traceable financial records, but there’s nothing suspicious. Not that I thought there would be. Criminals are good at being, well, criminal.
I know what I signed up for when I joined the FBI. A life of unresolved cases and disappointments, but I’m having a hard time accepting that I can’t magically find the clues to put away every criminal on a whim. My mom would be disappointed. She loved those crime-solving shows. NCIS, CSI, Hawaii Five-O. You name it, my mom watched it. And I watched every show right alongside her. Through the good times, and the really, really bad. She would laugh and pretend to solve fictional cases while ignoring the fact she was dying. The vivid memories of her colorless, sunken face as cancer slowly robbed her of life still plague me. Sometimes when I can’t sleep, I turn on one of her favorite shows to feel close to her again. But those shows are too simple, as if the missing piece of the puzzle falls into place right when the character needs it the most. It’s not that easy in real life.
I refresh my browser and look into the dating app where Amelia claims she met “Chad.” He used the name Chad Smith. His page is as private as possible, and we can’t see other people he’s connected with. We’ve got someone trying to hack his account, but he hasn’t come through yet.
What am I missing?
My phone rings and I answer it without looking at the number.