Page 28 of Girl, Reborn

She ducked into the hall, pulling out herphone with clumsy fingers. Scrolled through her contacts until she found theone she wanted – Mia's house sitter, Rafe Portillo.

The guy was a godsend, always ready toswoop in at a moment's notice when a case demanded Mia's undivided attention.Which was pretty much always – life in the Bureau didn't exactly lend itself toa regular plant-watering schedule. He lived on the farm that backed onto Mia’sgarden, so he could have eyes on her house going forward.

Ella hit the call button, pacing a tightcircuit as it rang once, twice. On the third, Rafe picked up.

‘Hello, Rafe speaking.’

‘Rafe. It's Ella Dark. Mia’s partner.’

A beat of startled silence. Then: ‘Ella?Ah, of course. What can I do for you?’

She could picture him now, the confusionscrawled across his expressive face. She'd only met him a handful of times,passed like ships in Mia's chic Beacon Hill digs. But he'd always struck her asa good guy. Salt of the earth, for all the froufrou trappings of his gig.

‘I need to ask you something. About Mia.’

‘Shoot.’

‘Have you seen her today?’

‘No,’ Rafe said. ‘Won’t be seeing heruntil Friday.’

‘Heard from her today?’

‘No. Sorry. Why?’

Ella debated how much to tell him. Shedidn’t want to worry him, but at the same time, he could be her eyes back inD.C. in case Mia miraculously reappeared.

‘Mia’s gone AWOL. The Bureau are lookingfor her.’

‘You’re kidding?’ Rafe said. A burst ofstatic came down the line. ‘Give me twenty minutes. I’ll head over to her placeand check.’

The wave of gratitude that crashed overher was dizzying. She couldn't afford to give into it, to feel anything. Butdamn if this man wasn't a godsend.

‘That would be great. Thank you.’

‘Leave it with me. Call you back soon.’

She punched End Call before the lump inher throat could betray her, stuffed her phone back in her pocket like itburned. Took a deep, shuddery breath and held it until her lungs screameduncle.

Then she pushed off the wall and stareddown the briefing room door like it was an enemy combatant. Showtime.

She strode back into the office, game facefirmly in place. Luca looked up as she approached, a question in his eyes, buthe had the decency to avoid it.

‘Hawkins.’ Her voice held all the warmthof a January grave. ‘Sorry for being a bitch two minutes back. I feel like afool.’

‘Shush. We got something.’

‘We do?’

‘Your friend Amelia called me while youwere out. Said she had a hit on the handwriting.’

Ella blinked, wrongfooted. ‘She calledyou?’

Something unreadable flickered acrossLuca's face, there and gone too quick to parse. ‘Uh, yeah. She said shecouldn't reach you.’

Ella frowned and dug out her phone again.Sure enough, there was a missed call from Amelia, time-stamped less than fiveminutes ago. Amelia giving updates to Luca instead of her. It was a strangefeeling. A hot rush of some tangled emotion swept through her, one she didn'tcare to examine too closely.

‘What did she say?’

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