Page 3 of When You're Safe

Finn looked across at his lawyerand felt bad. “I’m sorry, Philip. I am taking this seriously, but I can’t justuproot back home. Not yet.”

The case wasn’t his only concern.Finn had spent a couple of weeks mulling over going home and speaking with hisex-fiancée, Demi, another loose end in his life that was threatening to wraparound his neck and squeeze the life from him. She wanted to patch things up,but while Finn missed her, he worried that he would be all too forgiving of herinfidelity as soon as he saw her. She had that effect on him.

Staying away gave him distance inmore ways than one. He knew it would protect him from making a badmistake.

“That’s another thing,” Philipsaid, gripping his coffee and then leaning over, his gray tie almost dipping inthe cup. “This consultancy role with the UK police force. Seward is unhappyabout that. He wants you to drop it. I have to say, I agree with him. It’sgoing to blow up in your face.”

That got Finn’s back up. Wheneversomeone told him he needed to ignore an opportunity because of politics, it madehim want to move against that opposition.

“I haven’t even said yes to theoffer yet,” Finn grumbled. “It’s only an offer. And it’s been approvedby the Home Office here. I would think that the US government would be happy aUS agent on vacation solved the murder of a British aristocrat, and was beingasked to assist in other cases. You can’t buy that sort of international press.”

Philip sat back in his seat. “Finn,no one is doubting that solving the Lord Van Reece murder was a good thing,both for you and your country. But when it was leaked to the press that you’dbeen offered an extended consultancy position for other future cases, if youwanted it? Well… that’s made the FBI jumpy, especially since you have a courtcase coming up. I don’t believe the British press have caught onto that justyet, but it’s only a matter of time, and they’ll use it against you to cause ascandal. The FBI wants you to keep a low profile in case… in case you make amistake out here.”

“The FBI doesn’t trust me?” Finn asked,raising an eyebrow. “That’s shocking.” He grinned. “They seem intent on canningme, Phil. So what if I have another gig lined up? A man needs to put bread onhis table.”

Finn hadn’t decided whether totake the offer from the UK, but the more he was being pressed to lay low and gohome, the more appetizing the offer seemed.

“Director Seward is fighting everycorner he can find for you, Finn,” Philip explained. “Why, I don’t know, but heis doing it, putting his neck on the line. Hell, he even pulled strings to getme to represent you. Don’t you think you should put this consultancy thing tobed, get back home, and stay silent until the case is over? Don’t you owe himthat?”

Finn was troubled by the lawyer’swords. Director Seward was a mentor and friend. The last thing Finn wanted todo was cause him trouble.

Sitting up on the couch, now itwas Finn leaning in. He looked at Reid square in the eyes.

“I owe Director Seward more thanyou’ll ever know,” Finn said.

“Then surely you—” The lawyer wasn’tallowed to finish that no doubt persuasive sentence.

“But I’ve come through a lot in mylife,” Finn continued. “And while loyalty means a great deal to me, it isn’tSeward who is facing being fired from the FBI. It isn’t Seward who is facingfinancial ruin through paying damages. It’s me. Just like it was me who decidedto rush into that building and take down the kidnapper. I did that. It was theright call. That girl wouldn’t be alive if I hadn’t gone there on my own.”

“Hubris, Finn.” The lawyer shookhis head.

“Experience, Philip,” Finnargued. “I grew up with nothing. I followed my gut and it led me to a life ofservice. A life of trying to make a small dent in this goddamned world. It’s gotme into scrapes, sure, but out of scrapes, too. I’m still standing. Now my gutis telling me to—”

Finn’s words were now the onesbeing cut short, but not by Philip C. Reid.

Finn looked down at his phone andsaw who was calling.

Philip sighed. “It’s normally goodpractice to ignore calls during a meeting.”

“A meeting?” Finn looked up andsmiled. “I thought we were two pals having coffee.”

Answering the phone, Finn said: “Hey,Rob, what’s up?”

It was his good friend Rob, theyoungest chief constable in the country, and the person who had pulled Finninto the Van Reece murder case to help out.

“Finn,” Rob said, his voice grave,“I’ve just been given an order from my superiors.”

“An order?” Finn said. “That soundsominous. I hope it’s not to start up a singing career. Your performance at thekaraoke bar last night was unheard of. Do they have crimes against music inEngland? Are they arresting you?”

“Quit mucking about,” Rob said. “Thisis serious.”

Finn enjoyed joking—it had beenthe only way he could traverse the tragedies in his life—but he knew when to reinit in. “What’s happened?”

“I’ve been asked to bring you andInspector Winters to a crime scene along the Thames River just outside ofLondon.”

“I don’t know…” Finn said.

“It’s now or never to take up theHome Office’s offer, Finn,” Rob said. “They want the same team who solved theVan Reece case. I’m not going to lie—they were very specific about it. You’dhelp me out, big time.”

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