Page 118 of Fatal Vision
Chapter Twenty-one
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Washington, D.C.
One month later
“BOYS!”SHELBY’S VOICErang through the apartment. “You’re going to be late!”
The smell of chocolate chip pancakes filtered past Colton’s nose as he and Marcelo hustled to the kitchen.
“You gonna nail that geometry test today?” Colton asked him.
“Shucks, yeah,” the kid responded with a fake accent.
He ruffled the kid’s too-long hair. “I’m going to make a cowboy out of you, yet, Lo. A smart one who can do geometry at that.”
Paulina was in a nursing home, trying to get stronger so she could take care of Marcelo again, but Colton knew it was wishful thinking. Beatrice had pulled strings and Colton and Shelby were fostering Marcelo for now.
Which included fostering Salisbury too.
The dog sat near Shelby’s feet in the kitchen, licking his chops and giving her puppy dog eyes in hopes of landing a pancake.
She was in standard FBI attire: black pantsuit, white shirt, and black heels that gave her short frame a boost. The braid was gone, Jaya having cut it, and Shelby’s short hair lay in soft curls around her face.
At least she wasn’t sporting purple stripes.
“Big day,” Colton said, sliding up behind her and planting a kiss on her bare neck.
She swatted him good-naturedly with the spatula. “I can’t wait to testify.”
Marcelo hopped onto one of the beat up stools at the breakfast bar where Shelby had already set a plate of pancakes and the syrup. “I can skip school and come with you, y’know. If you’re nervous.”
The US Attorney General was ready to hang Theo Ingram in the town square as a deterrent to any future law enforcement officials who decided to play vigilante. Shelby had been offered a promotion at FBI Headquarters and had taken it in order to follow Colton back to DC.
Which shocked the hell out of him, but she was serious about mending their relationship. She’d come clean to her bosses about that night in Baghdad, and discovered they already knew. The counterterrorism director had covered for her before he’d skipped out to the NSA.
Because of the sensitivity around Evers’ inside job posing as a terrorist in order to take 12 September down, the people in charge asked her not to contradict Colton’s report or call attention in any way to the mission. Because of Lt. Moore’s severe injuries, they were all under scrutiny as it was. The FBI, CIA, and Navy had all agreed to form an official report that left a few of the details out to keep Evers’ true identity a secret and not compromise other undercover operations with 12 September.
For bringing in Ingram, the Director had offered Shelby the head of the taskforce unit she’d hoped to run before things had gone south for all of them. She was already up to her eyeballs in work, but seemed happier than ever.
“No skipping school,” Shelby said, loading up a plate for Colton and handing it to him. “Besides, I’m not nervous. I’m looking forward to nailing this scumbag to the wall.”
She’d not only dug Ingram’s grave for him, she’d managed to reunite Wyatt Evers with his wife. Wyatt, not wanting the CIA to pull him back into the land of spooks had decided to stay off the radar, but Shelby had set up a private meeting for Lori Evers and Daniel Mitchum at her father’s church. Last Colton heard, Lori and Daniel had run off to Vegas for a weekend.
Colton pinched Shelby’s backside. “That’s my beauty queen.”
She made a face at him and said sotto voce, “Not in front of the kid.”
He grinned and broke off a piece of a pancake to lob at Salisbury. The dog caught it in midair, inhaled it in one gulp, and wagged his tail, ready for more.
Shelby’s limp was all but gone thanks to continuing physical therapy. Most of her memory had also returned, except for the day of the shooting. The doctors believed that might not ever come back, but Shelby was okay with that. Every night in bed, she and Colton played a ‘remember-when’ game, calling up childhood experiences they’d shared. It seemed to make her happy, so Colton relived the past—even the stuff that made him uncomfortable—just to hear her laugh.
He’d made amends with Jack and Martha too. He’d found it easier staying on their good side when he was eighteen hours away from them.
“I’ll be with her for moral support,” Colton told Marcelo as he poured syrup on his pancakes. He bit into a forkful and his eyes fluttered up into his skull. God, he’d missed her cooking along with everything else.
