Donovan winced as Westerfield’s voice barked through the line.
He and Eleri had tried again to sound like they weren't together, but it had been one thing to do it when they were in his home. She’d easily moved to another room. This time, they'd been driving on the freeway when their phones rang simultaneously.
Donovan had motioned Eleri to quickly pull to the side of the road. As soon as she’d stopped, he hopped out and shut the door, hoping to leave her in the enclosed car, and him on the side of the road—sounding as if he was in a different place. He had no idea if Westerfield had any clue what they were doing or if maybe their boss was in his office, fully aware and laughing.
Neither of them had ever quite figured out what Westerfield’s powers were. Sure, he’d demonstrated moving small objects on the desk. He walked that quarter across his knuckles with a smoothness that appeared preternatural. But what other skills might he have? The ones Donovan had seen were small potatoes compared to what the agents possessed.
“There’s too much going down at the de Gottardi/Little farm.” Once again, Westerfield decided to forgo any polite hellos.
“But everyone's accounted for?” Donovan asked, knowing that Walter and Jansen were hooked up with Pines and new guy Kimball and that she said they’d checked in with the SAC. Donovan was glad that he was no longer getting grilled about the whereabouts of his girlfriend.
“Yes. There's not only an entire army ringing the joint, I was just informed this morning that there’s a mole inside.”
Donovan swallowed and felt his shoulders clench at the idea that Walter was in the thick of it. He reminded himself that she could handle it and that she probably didn't need him.
“Have they located Marks yet?” Eleri interjected. Donovan only heard her voice through the phone, though he could see her mouth move through the car window.
“No, and it’s worse than we even thought. They shot Shray Menon.”
Donovan wondered what the people driving by must think of him, standing on the side of the freeway with his phone to his ear. Even with his specialized hearing, he found himself covering his other ear to block the loud zing of traffic.
Westerfield hadn’t yet asked about the zooming noises, and Donovan wondered if his boss would. If he even cared.
But his muscles clenched as he listened, his brain shocked and concerned by what Westerfield was telling them. He’d always been the staid medical investigator. It was his job to not be surprised by anything. But he could not control his eyebrows rising, his body stiffening at each passing phrase.
“I thought Menon was dead.”
“We all did.” The three words from Westerfield covered pretty much everything they needed to know.
Then, Westerfield did something unusual. He dialed back a bit. “We're not actually positive it's Menon, but all signs point to it.”
“His body did disappear at the time,” Eleri said. “It always made me wonder.” She paused. “Who identified him?”
“Pines.”
No one answered, but Donovan saw Eleri’s lips purse. She trusted that answer, too. If Pines thought it was Menon, then it was almost certainly Menon.
“Well, I don't think we'll be wondering much longer. I need more people out there.”
Donovan looked through the car window, his eyes making contact with Eleri’s as Westerfield kept talking. “I need you to grab your bags and get ready to leave today. I've got flights for each of you—”
That still didn't indicate if he knew they were together or not.
“I’m sending in as many agents as I can. I hope this time we can end it.”
Donovan had believed they'd ended it last time. But things were clearly bigger than he’d thought, and he said something for the very first time.
He nodded once at Eleri and watched as she agreed. Then, without waiting for a moment to lose his nerve, he simply replied, “No. We can’t go.”
“I'm sorry?” Westerfield asked, his tone as stunned as Donovan expected it to be.
“No, sir,” Donovan replied, as though the “sir” might massage the answer. “Eleri and I are together. We're heading down through Georgia, possibly into Florida. We've got a lead, and we’re following Bodhi Banerjee.”
“Well, shit,” Westerfield replied. The swear word had one syllable, but three notes. Donovan wasn't sure what that might mean. But he waited. They’d had these moments before.
He and Eleri had things in their own lives that, once in a while, were worth quitting the job that he’d come to embrace and leaving the co-workers he’d come to love. He reminded himself he could go back to being a medical examiner if he needed to. He didn’t reevaluate that he would almost certainly have to move, which he didn’t want to do, and he would no longer love the job. He’d only liked it at the time because he didn’t know another possibility existed.
All these thoughts swirled around and were pushed away as he waited for a follow-up to the swear word.
Eleri had chased her sister’s trail until they found her. Donovan had followed, risking his own position and thinking there would be nothing like that that he'd ever need to ask from her. But, suddenly, here it was.
Silence dragged from the other end of the line. And Donovan waited.