Page 10 of Girl, Reformed

CHAPTER FOUR

Mia slammed the door so hard the hingesnearly blew clean off. The sound echoed through the house like a gunshot. Herblood was boiling hotter than Satan's sauna, and the pounding in her skull madethe entire world feel like it was caving in.

Ella's words kept ringing in her ears.Accusing Martin - her Martin - of being some twisted guardian angeloffing their enemies. It was so absurd Mia wanted to laugh until her lungs gaveout. But all that came was a scream lodged in her throat, ready to tear theworld a new one.

She stormed into the kitchen, snatched awhiskey bottle and took a long pull. How could Ella even suggest it? Sweet,charming Martin who made her feel alive again after the never-ending freak showthat was life in the Bureau. He was a goddamn saint, not some deranged serialkiller.

And what proof did Ella have? A glance? Ahunch? Some half-baked theory pulled straight from her ass? She wanted to marchright back outside, grab Ella by the shoulders and shake her so hard herperfect teeth rattled. But a tiny voice in the back of her head made her pause.The one that sounded annoyingly like the hard-nosed agent she was before Martinwaltzed into her world and made everything feel shiny and new.

‘You're an investigator, she toldherself. Act like it.’

Mia growled and took another swig,welcoming the slow burn. Investigator. Right. Guess that meant doing the lastthing she wanted - looking at this mess through the eyes of an impartial agentinstead of a woman ready to castrate her best friend for talking smack.

Fine. She'd do the cop thing even if itmade her want to hurl. She'd comb through the facts, wrack her brain foranything that might make Ella's wild theory more than the ravings of a lovesickfool. Mia slumped into a chair, massaging her temples. She started flippingthrough her memories like a deranged scrapbook. All the late nightconversations with Martin, the pillow talk, the whispered secrets in the dark.

Christ, had she spilled her guts aboutElla's drama? The whole debacle with Ben and how it sent her partner into atailspin? Mia squeezed her eyes shut, trying to conjure Martin's honey-smoothvoice.

‘Heard things ended badly with Ella'sboy toy. She doing okay?’

Mia's eyes snapped open. She had toldhim. Right after the big blowout that left Ella a zombie for weeks. In herdefense, she'd been three bourbons deep and in desperate need of an ear. AndMartin had been so sweet, so understanding.

No. No way. That proved nothing except herbig mouth after too much whiskey. She dug deeper into the mess of memories,trying to unearth more clues in this pile of mental garbage.

Logan Nash. That guy’s name was foreverbranded in her brain after what he did to Ella's old man. But had Mia ever toldMartin about him? About the history there?

A vague recollection surfaced through thepounding in her skull. Some late night jabber session where the ghosts of theirpasts came out to play. She'd spilled her guts about Nash while Martin held herclose and whispered all the right things.

Goddammit. Strike two.

And Randall Carter. The smug son of abitch who’d lucked into a role as FBI director and then treated her and Ellalike something he scraped off his shoe. Mia would bet her pension she'd run hermouth about him too during another bitch fest with her boyfriend - no, humansecurity blanket.

But these scumbags had plenty of enemies,a line around the block itching to do them in. Just because Martin knew aboutthe bad blood didn't make him a murderer. Christ, if she indicted people basedon a couple conversations half the city would be behind bars.

Enter Trevor. Her ex-husband. Trevor hadblackmailed Mia, tried to siphon fifty grand out of her bank account. Mia hadrefused, things had gotten ugly. Martin had been privy to every detail.

Mia stood so fast her chair toppled over.Investigator hat. Right. She had to look for facts, not cling to maybes thatwould send her world into a tailspin.

She needed those files Martin was diggingfor last night. Maybe they'd have some answers or at least a breadcrumb tofollow out of this mess.

Without a second thought, Mia begantearing through the house like a woman possessed. She ransacked the kitchen,upending drawers and rifling through the stack of papers by the phone.

Nothing but bills and old grocery lists.

She moved on to the bedroom, tearingthrough the closet and peeking under the bed. Just a few lacy scraps she'd beensaving for a rainy day and a thick layer of dust bunnies.

The office was next. Martin's sacred spacewhere he'd spend hours poring over paperwork and doing whatever the hellretired feds did to keep busy. Mia always gave it a wide berth out of respectand a healthy dose of self-preservation. Nothing killed the mood faster thanwading through a sea of redacted files.

But desperate times and everything. Shestarted with the desk, yanking open drawers and flipping through binders. Lotsof blacked out pages and cryptic notes in Martin's chicken scratch. Nothingthat screamed suspicious. She moved on to the filing cabinets lining the walls,combing through each one with rising desperation. More of the same - old cases,expense reports, a few newspaper clippings with either Mia's or Martin's nameamongst the column inches. The only thing out of place was the empty space in thebottom drawer where files used to be. The ones Martin had been elbow-deep inlast night.

‘Damn it.’ Mia slammed the drawer shut.

Martin had taken something. He’d neverleave it like this. The man was military to the bone, never a hair out ofplace.

She collapsed into Martin's huge leatherchair and stared at the ceiling. Her head felt ready to pop, and her gutchurned like a blender set to pulverize. She was running on rage fumesand nowhere closer to unscrewing this situation.

Mia fumbled in her pocket for her phoneand re-read Edis’s text message.

He wanted her in the office immediately.

---