Maggie Carlisle stepped down the metal stairs into the garage bay. A single roll-up door opened to the outside world but the large open bay contained their unit’s entire vehicle pool—a black GMC Yukon, a cream panel van, a white Ford Escape Hybrid, a silver Buick LaCrosse, and a 1969 Chevrolet Camaro Z28. It was black with red racing stripes and all the trimmings and served as Marcus’s personal vehicle. She often wondered if Marcus had conned the Director into buying it for him like some kind of signing bonus.
The walls around the vehicles were faded brick. The floor had once been smooth concrete but had cracked and split in certain spots to the point where they had been forced to bust it free and replace whole sections with gravel. Some type of vegetation had taken root in one corner and climbed up the brick.
Above her head sat the nerve center for their unit that housed the offices and training areas. The building, an old textile-manufacturing facility, had sat empty for over ten years. It had been scheduled for demolition. To say that the accommodations were modest was an understatement, but Marcus had found the place and had fallen in love with it. At least it was in a good location. The brick building sat nestled within a group of trees on a dead-end road near Rose Hill, Virginia. Which placed them only a short drive from I-395 that could take them north over the George Mason Memorial Bridge and into the heart of Washington DC in a little under half an hour.
Maggie reached the bottom of the rusty metal stairs and stormed across the garage bay toward the Yukon. The doors of the black SUV stood open, and Marcus and Andrew were piling the vehicle up with equipment. She could hear them bickering.
Andrew opened up the top of an ammo box and said, “Why in the hell do we need this much firepower?”
Marcus’s reply echoed across the cracked and patched floor. “It’s the condom principle.”
“Huh?”
“You know, I’d rather have one and not need it, than need one and not have it.”
“We have two fully auto KRISS Super Vs and 5,000 rounds of .45 ACP ammo. Plus multiple sidearms. What are you expecting, zombie apocalypse?”
“You never know. But the next time we go close-quarters, I want the firepower on our side.”
“I’m coming with you,” Maggie said as soon as she reached them.
Marcus dropped a duffle bag back to the gravel and turned toward her. His eyes were unreadable behind a pair of dark Oakley sunglasses. “I need you to stay here, Maggie. We may come up with additional leads that we’ll need you to investigate outside the Chicago area.”
She looked to Andrew for support, but he only raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders in a way that told her she was on her own. “Dammit, Marcus. You can’t do this to me. This is the third case where you’ve stuck me on the sidelines doing paperwork. Ever since Harrisburg you’ve been coddling me like I’m some kind of child that needs babysitting. I made a simple mistake that could have happened to any of us. I don’t deserve to be benched over it.”
“A simple mistake? You disobeyed my orders, and you were almost killed. But that’s beside the point—it’s not why you’re hanging back. We may need you here. End of discussion.”
She reached out and grabbed his arm. She whispered, “Is this because of what’s been happening between us? I’m a professional. I would never allow our personal relationship to affect my performance.”
Marcus closed his eyes for a second and then said, “It has nothing to do with that, either. I really just need you here. Okay?”
Maggie sensed some emotion in his voice. Fear. Shame. Regret. But regret over what? Was he sorry for the way he was handling their relationship or that they had a relationship at all? She didn’t know how to respond, and so she said nothing.
Heavy footsteps slapped the concrete at her back, and she turned to see Stan Macallan, their unit’s technology guru, approaching. Stan said to Marcus, “I emailed you those statistics and files you wanted on Chicago.”
Marcus nodded. “Thanks.” To Maggie, he said, “I’ll call you tomorrow morning with an update on the case.”
Andrew had finished loading the Yukon and raised the door to the garage. He gave Maggie a little wave as he climbed behind the wheel. Marcus glanced at the SUV and back to her. It looked as if there was something more he wanted to say, but as usual, he held his tongue. With a nod, he walked over to the Yukon and climbed inside.
As Maggie watched the big black vehicle pull away from the building and down a dirt path dotted with alternating patches of grass and gravel, she wondered why the man she loved didn’t reciprocate her feelings. And if he did, why did he push her away?