Rubbing remnants of what little sleep he’d enjoyed from his eyes, Josh Corner sat up and reached for the phone that vibrated like an angry wasp on his bedroom nightstand. Glancing at the lit screen, the first thing he noticed was the time. Six-oh-six a.m. The second thing was who was calling. Apparently Assistant Director John Dickman didn’t need any sleep. He’d heard that about some mythical monsters. No sleep gave the monsters more time to think up crazy, minding-grueling, questionable tasks for the people who worked for them.
He lingered on the AD’s last name for a moment. Dickman. How appropriate.
“Corner here,” answered Josh, surprised at how alert he sounded.
“Did I wake you, Josh? I guess it doesn’t matter. I have a big day lined up for you and wanted to make sure you’re ready.”
The ‘asshole’ in the AD’s voice was entirely too obvious. He could almost see the crooked, sadistic smile plastered on Dickman’s face.
“I believe I am ready, sir. I need to get a shower and help get my boys ready for the day. Then I’ll be wherever you’d like me to be.”
The slight hesitation told him that his plans weren’t on the same agenda as his boss’s. Not even close.
“No time for that. You have to be at the training facility in twenty-three minutes. This will be intense and last well into the night. We’ve got to cover ground you’ve not been exposed to previously. What’s coming next will tax you to your limits, Agent Corner.”
It was Josh’s turn to hesitate. He’d promised Alex that he’d be there when he came out of surgery and wait for him in the recovery room.
“Sir, with all due respect, I promised Agent Downs I’d be there when he woke from surgery. And . . .”
“You shouldn’t promise things you can’t deliver, Corner. What is happening here will shape your, and your family’s, future. Downs will either be fine or he won’t. Your presence will not affect that one way or another. Is that clear?”
“It is sir, but he’s on my team, and God knows I feel like I’ve left Manny and the others sitting on some kind of ledge by not being there with them in Vegas.”
“Do I sound like I give a flying-pig’s ass what’s going on out there? They get paid for doing their job, just like you, Agent.”
Dickman’s voice had increased its ‘ass-hole’ intensity. He was growing impatient, maybe even angry, with Josh.
He frowned. This wasn’t quite like him, or at least the Assistant Director he’d known the last few years. Josh was no profiler, but Dickman sounded . . . well, almost anxious. The words of an old song popped into his mind.
Everyone’s hiding something.
“I understand that, sir, but this is my team we’re talking about,” answered Josh, trying to keep his growing frustration in check.
“Agent Corner. You’ll do what you’re told, got it?”
The emotion was entirely gone from Dickman’s voice. Cold hardly covered it.
Josh didn’t care for it. Not one iota.
Without truly knowing why, Josh decided to let his emotion loose. For three weeks, he’d gone through this shit. Even before they’d left North Carolina, Dickman had been planting seeds that there were more important things in the life of a BAU supervisor than his team. The AD had tried to beat home the point that the Bureau was all that mattered, and everything, and everyone else, was there to serve the Bureau’s purpose. Their individual needs, troubles, and joys were of no consequence. Josh had even gleaned from a couple more intense conversations that field agents were expendable, if need arose.
Any field agent.
The idea of Manny or Sophie or Dean or Alex, or even himself, being just an expendable body had two effects on Josh. Bullshit and bullshit.
“I now fully understand, Assistant Director. Where is it that you’d like me to be this morning?”
“Now you’re making sense. I’d—”
“Actually, I don’t care what you want. I won’t be there. I’ve got somewhere else to be. Oh, and you can stick this new project up your ass. I’m no longer interested. I’ve got a team to take care of. My team to watch over.”
He turned the phone off and waited. Only there was no call back. No telling ring or vibration that let him know Dickman wanted to talk. There was an air of unease about that, but the feeling of relief was far more inviting and prevalent.
The hand on his back alerted him that he’d woken his wife, Connie. She ran her long finger down his spine and stopped at the base of his tail bone.
“I guess you heard,” he said softly. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be asked to give my credentials and my gun back to Uncle Sam soon.”
“That’s okay, Josh. I’m proud of you. It was the right call,” answered Connie.
“Yeah, I guess it was. Maybe your mom won’t mind if we move in for a few years,” he said, still not facing his wife.
“Could be. But at least we’ll get you back. All of you. And besides, maybe the boys and I will get to finally see you more than a few minutes a day. Maybe even meet this Manny Williams and his friends.”
He turned toward her, kissed her, the scent of her never more alive than it was at that moment. “That would make me the happiest agent on the planet. And they’re special folks and friends. But I’ve got one more thing to do before I get my total tit in the wringer.”
“I figured that.”
She kissed him again. “Just remember that and what’s waiting for you when you get back.”
“I never really did forget, you know.”
“I do know.”
With that, Josh got dressed, looked in on the boys, both sleeping with their covers on the floor and facing their Marvel superhero posters. The smile led to teary eyes.
A minute later he was outside. He jumped into the SUV, glanced at the clock, and sped toward his next-to-last destination as an FBI special agent.