Page 56 of Justice for Francesca

“It should be,” Cruz admitted, “but his cell phone is off, he hasn’t used any of his credit cards, hasn’t touched his bank account, and the last time anyone saw him was around four thirty on Wednesday when he told Cosmos he ‘had something to do’ and took off. Security cameras confirm his exit from the building to his car.”

“Track his GPS.”

“Need a warrant for that, but… don’t really need it. His car is at his apartment building. Both his apartment and his car are locked up tight, no signs of distress, and nobody home. Manager let me in when I explained we were concerned as a friend had died, and we were worried about him.”

“That doesn’t even work for me, and I’m pretty,” she griped.

“Guess I’m prettier.”

Another snort from Francesca let him know exactly what she thought of that comment.

“Sooo… what’s the elephant’s alibi?”

Francesca set the last few bites of her burger back into the container, wiped her mouth and hands with her napkin, set the napkin inside the box, and closed it. Appetite now completelygone, she shoved the box toward the center of the table. She looked up at Cruz. “Let’s take a walk.”

He frowned. “Does this have to do with why you’ve been favoring your right side today?”

She knew her injury wouldn’t slide past him. She should have just owned up to it at the first opportunity. “It’s stuffy in here,” she added.

Realizing she didn’t want to answer either question inside the FBI offices, he nodded. Throwing out their food containers on their way out the door, the two agents exited the building and walked two blocks to a nearby dog park. They leaned on the fencing, watching the dogs run around inside the paddock. “The long version gets me taken off this case. The short version is probably just as bad. Which one do you want?”

“Let’s start with the short version,” he said.

Her eyes were glued to a Jack Russell terrier trying to terrorize a greyhound. The larger dog ran, ears flapping in the wind, tongue lolling, tail wagging. It kept looking behind itself to see if its new friend was keeping up. Maybe if she focused on the dogs, the confession would be easier.

“Tripoli’s alibi is me. We’ve been together at Elysium for the last four days. Well, five if you count my sick day. I’ve been working!” she qualified.

Cruz stared out at his own pick of the dogs. “Are you happy?”

She turned her head to look at Cruz. His question was totally not what she’d expected. “Huh?”

His eyes still on the dogs, he asked again, “Are you happy?”

She considered his question. “No? I mean, I like Tripoli.”

“You ‘like’ him? That’s a little middle school in terms of its response.”

Struggling to put the situation into words, she took the safe route. “We’re comfortable together. We get along. But it can’t be anything more. It shouldn’t even be what it is, which is nothing.”

Cruz turned to look at her, one arm still leaning on the top of the fence. “That answer made absolutely no sense, Frankie.”

“Ugh. We’re not sleeping together, okay? Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

“Why not?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake?—”

“Seriously. Why not? The man is totally focused on you at all times. I see your physical responses when you’re around him, so I know you’re attracted to him. The man isn’t a suspect, and yes, he’s part of the investigation, but anyone who knows you knows that you would never compromise an investigation, so I don’t get what your concern is.”

She continued to watch the greyhound and the terrier, who had ceased to do laps because it had gotten tired. Now they lay under a pine tree, the greyhound curled up against the terrier, giving the smaller dog a sniff-over to make sure all was well. The comparison of her as the terrier and Tripoli as the greyhound was not lost on her.

“Frankie?”

“Have you ever thought about leaving the field?”

Even though she wasn’t looking at Cruz, she could tell her question had thrown him off. His posture tensed, then relaxed as he turned back to face the dogs. “Yes. When my undercover mission with the Hermanos Rojas finished, and I thought I was going to lose Mickie, I put in for a transfer to Victim Assistance. I thought I’d ruined any chance I had with her. I’d lied to her about who I was—not that I’d had a choice since I was undercover. Her sister’s throat was slit right in front of her by the MC president, and there was nothing I could do. At the time, my heart was shattered. If I couldn’t be with Mickie, if she couldn’t forgive me, no matter how close I was with my friends, I couldn’t stay in San Antonio. So I put in for the transfer.”

She turned her head to look at him. “But it all worked out?”

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