Page 14 of The Shadowed Oracle
“Totally understandable.” The relief in his voice alerted Ingrid to the fact that, just by calling him in the middle of the night, she’d likely given him a scare. Nothing about how she’d treated him after the news report aired would’ve indicated she would call him for anything other than an emergency.
“If it makes you feel better,” Dean went on, taking a breath. “I don’t think I’ve fully adjusted to it yet either. And this shit is literallymy job.”
“Really?” Ingrid asked lowly, almost embarrassed.
“Absolutely.”
“That makes me feel a little better, actually.” She managed a laugh, though something in her chest twisted slightly. “Makes me feel better about what I’m about to ask, too.”
A barely audible “Fuck” came from Dean’s side of the phone.
“Don’t knock it until you hear my plan,” Ingrid groaned.
“Plan? What plan?”
“The plan that I’m letting you in on.” She said it like she was doing him a favor. “I was going to do it alone. But now that the universe or fate or whatever it was brought us together…”
“I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“Hear me out.”
His response levelled out to a low monotone. “That’s what I’m actively doing.”
“Right,” she said sheepishly. “So, as you know, I want to catch this asshole as soon as possible.” She paused, waiting for an objection, but got none. “What I was thinking is, I’ll send a message. Tell him I want to meet. That I’m grateful for what he did to Kyle for me. You know, play into his game. Then I get him to meet me in a public place.”
Another extended beat of silence before Dean responded. “Wait, slow down. I don’t know you well enough to tell if you’re being serious or not.”
“I’m dead serious. I want this over. Whatever I have to do, I’ll do.”
“Ingrid,” Dean started, but obviously couldn’t come up with anything else to say to someone so eager to risk their life.
“What?” Ingrid pushed.
“It’s not possible.”
“What do you mean?”
“That man you spoke to today, he was FBI. The FBI don’t use civilians as bait. They follow protocol. They process evidence. And they do all of that very, very quietly. We haven’t even gotten the results from the book he left at your front door. They’ll wait for that before doing anything else. Trust me, it’s not happening. No matter what you’ve seen in those brain-dead movies.”
A familiar rage bubbled in her like an old friend as she said, “I know it’s unorthodox. But don’t talk to me like I’m stupid.”
Dean was too flummoxed to respond at first, giving Ingrid a moment to cool down. “Just a phrase,” he replied finally. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Ingrid was glad he’d spoken first. “I get what you’re saying.”
Something thick and heavy hovered over the space between them like static on the airwaves. It felt like they were back to how they’d been when Dean had first come into her bar. Immediately contentious. Wary. A little argumentative.
“For the record,” Dean’s voice drifted into a soft whisper. “I don’t think you’re braindead.”
“That means a lot,” she said with a huff. “Coming from the guy that can’t even tell when I’m being serious.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “Then let’s change that. Let’s get to know each other. I was going to ask you back at the station, but you had a lot going on. What was the book he gave you? You said it was a sequel to something you were reading?”
“Really?” Ingrid asked dryly.
“Yes, really. We’re getting to know each other. Why not start with hobbies?”
Ingrid considered it. “I don’t mind small talk. But I think you just want to change the subject.”
