Page 11 of Pose for Me
“Nothing,” I say in a clipped tone, though I’m not angry at him. I’m pissed at myself for not using my brain. “There’s nothing Icansay.”
“Damn right, there isn’t.” He collapses in his chair as if he’s run out of steam. “You’re off field duty for thirty days.” I nod slowly, not thrilled, but it’s better than being fired altogether. “Dammit, Bauer. You’re the best agent we have. I thought after the case with Wilson, you’d be over making mistakes like this. But hear this and hear it fucking well. One more slipup and you’re done. Three strikes and you’re the fuck out.”
“Got it. Thank you,” I say, dipping my head and leaving his office.
A weight is lifted from my shoulders while, simultaneously, foreboding presses onto my chest, making it hard to pull in a deep breath.
I’m ten steps behind The Poser. They’re too smart, too fucking savvy for me to get my grips into them. Even with them knowing the full might of the FBI was on to them, they still returned my message and didn’t leave any evidence behind. The entire scene was spotless, showing me theyareinvincible.
Plopping down in my office chair, I loosen my tie and roll up my sleeves, trying not to lose my shit over the death I caused.
Brock watches me with wary eyes. “What happened?”
“Benched. Stuck on desk duty. But I have to work. I can’t let them get away with it.”
My partner curses. “I’m sorry, man. Listen, I’ll talk?—”
“Don’t, okay?” I say, stopping him before he does something that will get him in trouble too. “I don’t mind being off field duty. It’ll keep me away from the press.” Brock gives me a small smile that vanishes almost immediately. “You good working solo?”
“Fisher’ll probably give me someone in the office to work with me. Rivera, hopefully. He’s good.” Roy Rivera is an agent that joined our team a few years after us. He has great instincts, and he knows when to shut the fuck up, unlike me.
We head to the forensics room and look through the evidence. I focus on the note that was left for me.
COME GET ME.
NowI’mbeing taunted,and there’s nothing I can do about it. I don’t fucking like it.
“See anything?” Brock asks, stepping up beside me.
“Nothing but me getting called out.” I tap my finger on the sketch.
Brock exhales hard. We continue to check out the evidence that was collected today and with the last victim.
When we spot nothing new, Brock shakes his head and says, “Let’s go grab a drink. We’ve been at it all day, and you deserve one.”
Any other time, I’d want to put in a few more hours to uncover something that could bring us one step closer to the perp. But today, all I want to do is drown my sorrows in the bottom of a bottle.
“Yeah, okay,” I murmur, my head down.
I follow Brock out, and we take our civilian vehicles to Drag Dragon.
As soon as I take a seat at the bar, Emmy murmurs a quick hello and slides my usual order in front of me.
Before she can walk away, I toss back my first glass of Jack and hold up two fingers. The burn of the alcohol trailing down my throat feels good. It feels likeforgetting,at least for tonight.
She ticks up a blonde eyebrow and holds out her hand. Sighing, I pull out my keys and pass them over. She places them in a bowl behind the bar before she pours my drinks.
“Tough day?” she asks.
“You have no idea.” I toss the second glass back, the burn still there, but it’ll dim as the night goes on.
“What happened?” she asks, leaning her elbows on the bar.
“Really fucking rough crime scene, and I got put on desk duty. I fucked up, and I’m taking my punishment.”
She gives me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry. That first round is on me.”
I mouth a thanks, then chug half of my beer.
