Nineteen

She’d bought curtains.

It was all Michael could think, standing at the window of his room, looking out across the yard toward the back of Sabrina’s house. She hated curtains; they blocked out the light. He glanced at the little writing desk tucked into the corner of his room. Saw the chair he used to sit in while he watched her—

The knock on his door pushed him away from the window, like he’d been caught doing something wrong. Ben poked his head in. “Housekeeping,” he said before pushing his way in. He tossed a dry-cleaning bag across the back of the leather armchair just inside the door. “Better suit up.”

Michael glanced at the bag but didn’t move. “What are we doing here, Ben?”

The kid gave a long-suffering sigh. “I told you: she found a body that matches the description of the Maddox boy along with a live witness that might be able to lead us to the who, how, and why.”

“No. What are we doing here? In this house.” The words came through gritted teeth. “And please bear in mind that I have absolutely zero patience for your bullshit right now.”

Ben gave up with a lazy shrug. “Alright. I just figured you’d want to see her. Tryin’ to do you a solid.”

He wanted to see Sabrina more than he’d wanted anything in his whole life. “You thought wrong. We don’t have time for this crap. We’ve got a kid to find, so—”

Ben glanced at the window. “A few days ago you were ready to chew off your arm to get to her. Quit flip-flopping—you’re making me dizzy.”

“Why in the hell are you so interested in my feelings?” he said quietly.

Ben shrugged. “Because you have them. For her. I find it …
encouraging.”

Unease settled against his skin and for some reason Michael thought of the debt he owed to the man in front of him. Rather than pursue it, he changed the subject altogether. “What’s in the bag?”

Now the kid smiled. “Cheap suit, FBI badge—the usual.”

He began to wonder, not for the first time, if his partner was on drugs. “You want me to play Fed? Here? You were paying attention when I explained to you the pile of shit I had to slog through just to make it out with my neck intact the last time I got involved in one of her investigations, right?”

“Quit your bitching. No one’s going to remember you. Not with that mop on your head.” Ben grinned.

“Don’t remind me,” Michael said, running a hand over his head. He’d grown it out for the Cordova job and hadn’t had a chance to cut it. He thought of Sabrina’s partner, Strickland. From a distance the guy had looked like your typical cop. Rumpled. A bit dopey. Up close was a different story. Christopher Strickland was going to remember him, no doubt about it. Michael shook his head. “You go.”

“Can’t. I get to go to the hospital and play diplomat from Russian Embassy,” Ben said in a thick Russian accent. “And no, we can’t switch. Your Ruskie sucks.”

“Eto luchshe chem vash, mudak.” It’s better than yours, asshole.

When he still didn’t move, Ben crossed his arms over his chest and gave him a hard look. “Look, this is how the job gets done, you know that. The sooner we get in, the sooner we can get out. So quit being a pussy and put on the suit.”