Page 41 of Lethal Game

"What did your grandmother do in the FBI?"

"She was a profiler, and she loved it. She was great at reading people. Sharp as a tack and her insights were always right. But when she had children, she quit the bureau and became a stay-at-home mother." He smiled to himself. "Although her skills were still in evidence when I tried to lie to her as a teenager. She could see right through me."

"Is she still alive?"

"She is. She lives in a senior housing development in Encino. She moved there after my grandfather died eight years ago. That's how both my father and I ended up out here. We didn't want her to be alone."

"What about your mother? Was she also in the FBI?"

"No. She hated the bureau."

"Why?"

"Because it was my father's obsession, his mistress, she used to say. She thought he was more in love with his job than he was with her. They divorced when I was twelve, and three years later, she passed away from cancer."

"I'm sorry. You've had a lot of loss in your life."

"Too much," he agreed. "But that's life. We don't get to choose the path we walk."

"We get to choose some things," she said. "It's not all preordained."

"I didn't mean it that way. I just meant that when nasty shithappens, there's nothing you can do about it, except to keep going."

"That's true. Were you and your dad close after your mom died?"

"No. He was still burying himself in work. During the school year, we had a housekeeper who made sure I had food and tried to keep an eye out for me, but I was an angry teenager and probably had too much freedom. My grandparents would take me in during the summers, and those months were good." He paused. "You don't really want to hear all this, do you?"

"I do," she said, an almost desperate note in her voice. "Tell me more."

He didn't want to tell her more. He wasn't even sure why he'd told her this much. He wasn't one to overshare, especially when it came to family.

"Did you join the FBI just because it was the family business or because you were trying to find a connection with your dad?" she asked.

He was surprised at how quickly she'd made that leap. "It was actually my grandfather who kept telling me I should make the FBI my career. I wasn't sure. When I went to college, I got a degree in international relations and criminology. I actually thought about joining the CIA, making my own path. I even worked for the State Department for a few years after college, but eventually, I applied to the FBI."

"What did your dad think about it?"

"He was ambivalent. I'm not sure he wouldn't have preferred I do something else."

"Why? He should have been proud to have you follow in his footsteps."

"He was probably afraid I'd embarrass him, screw something up. He was a hard man with high expectations for himself and for his son. It wasn't easy to get a compliment from him." He cleared a throat, wondering again why he was telling her something so personal.

"You don't seem like someone who is a screwup, Jason," she said, giving him a doubtful look. "From what I've seen, you're very good at your job."

"There are times when I could have been better."

"That's true for all of us," she said. "But that's okay. We all need room to grow. And nobody is perfect." She ended her statement with a yawn.

He smiled at her pretty and very tired face. "It appears I've now sufficiently bored you into almost falling asleep."

"I'm sorry." She gave him a guilty look. "It's been a wonderful distraction to think about something else. And your job is so important, Jason. You're a real-life hero."

"So are you. You save people's lives, too."

"I don't think I've ever saved someone's life, but I've helped ease their pain," she said.

"That's important, too. Do you like being a nurse?"

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