Identity Crisis. Kate Donovan
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minutes! That’s all it would have taken to call me and clear your plan—”
“And you would have said no!”
“You bet your unregistered cell phone I would have said no. And I would have been right.” He raked his fingers through his thick black hair. “It worked out great. I’m as happy as anyone that the Rodriguez girl is safe. But there were other ways to accomplish it. Ways that didn’t jeopardize Russo’s career, not to mention mine.”
She mentally cringed, but didn’t dare interrupt.
“Do you understand what a disaster it would have been if you’d been wrong? You would have single-handedly destroyed our relationship with the local cops—guys who were busting their asses to find that kid. They didn’t deserve to be made fools of. Plus, you would have ruined the prosecutor’s case and probably gotten us sued for violating the brother’s civil rights.”
“I knew Randy wasn’t guilty, Ray. So I knew none of that would happen.”
“You’re a frickin’ genius,” he agreed dryly.
“I didn’t say that. But it went well—”
“Did it? Since there’s no tape of the call, I’ll never know exactly what you said to that kid. But the unofficial story is you promised him his sister was still alive and you were going to find her. What if Horton had already killed her? Dammit, Kris, what were you thinking?”
“I had a feeling—”
“Screw feelings and hunches and all that crap,” he advised angrily. “I don’t believe in that baloney, and neither should you. You’re good—great—because you make inferences other people miss. You connect the dots in a coroner’s report or a psych test or an interrogation transcript. That’s the second most important part of your job, and you’re terrific at it.”
“And the first most important part of my job is being able to articulate my theory to the field agents based on facts.” She gave a heartfelt sigh. “I’ve heard you say that a million times. And guess what. I tried, but I couldn’t. I knew it was Horton, but I couldn’t put my finger on why.” Completely deflated, she slumped in her chair and admitted, “I screwed up.”
Ray snorted. “Is this where I’m supposed to tell you it’s okay because it all turned out for the best?”
“No. Not at all.” She studied her hands for a second, then summoned the nerve to ask, “Am I fired?”
“Yeah, right. I’m gonna fire you the same day I’m ordered to give you a commendation.”
“Ordered?” Her gut twisted into a knot. “By whom?”
“Your secret admirer. Ulysses S. Payton.”
Kristie groaned, knowing how much Ray resented the colonel’s license to meddle in his project. “I don’t want a commendation from him.”
“You don’t have a choice. It’s already part of your record, just like the telegram from the kids’ parents, praising you—or rather, Melissa—for saving both their children. Congratulations,” he added bitterly.
“I’m sorry, Ray.”
“Just tell me it’s never going to happen again.”
“It won’t. I promise. It was a unique, once-in-a-lifetime screwup. I take full responsibility, and I give you my word it will never, ever happen again.”
“There’s enough blame to go around,” he murmured. “I should have seen this coming with you. You’re too involved with your cases. And way too chatty with your operatives. I’ve given you latitude because you’re—well, because you’re you. That ends today.”
“I’m not me anymore?” she quipped, but when his eyes flashed, she told him quickly, “I’m just joking because I feel so guilty about letting you down. And just for the record, it wasn’t your fault. You made the rules very clear to me. I knew I was breaking them.”
“With Russo’s help. That stupid screwup.”
“Don’t blame Justin.”
Ray snorted again. “If anything, I blame him the most. He’s an experienced agent. He should’ve known better than to let you call the shots.”
“He was desperate. After six days of frantically searching for that sweet little girl, he believed he had failed. The poor guy felt like crap when he called me. Then I promised him we could find her if he did exactly what I said. That’s the only reason he smuggled a phone into Randy’s cell. So don’t judge him, please?”
Her boss eyed her intently. “New rules, starting today. Is that understood?”
“New ones? Wouldn’t it be enough if I just started obeying the old ones?”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Ray agreed. “But no. You apparently need some extra ones. So here goes. I want you to register any and all personal telephone lines and cell phones with us from now on. We’ll randomly monitor them just like we do everything else.”
“Fine with me. What else?”
“Start using your backups. That’s what they’re there for.”
Kristie grimaced. The thought of slaving over a scenario and getting it perfect, only to abandon it for twelve full hours every night was unbearable. She had faith in her fellow spinners, but knew in her gut no one could run her cases as well as she could.
Ray leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes, clearly frustrated again. “You can’t live this job twenty-four hours a day, Kris. It affects your objectivity.”
“And objectivity is the key to good spinning? I believe that as much as you do. But the field agents never call at night unless it’s an emergency, and in emergencies, it’s especially vital for the original spinner to take the call.”
“This isn’t a negotiation.” He exhaled sharply. “Do you understand that you’ve got to get a life? Make friends. Go to parties. Go on dates! It’ll make you sharper. More valuable to everyone, especially the field agents.”
“I have a life. I don’t just sit by the phone and wait for operatives to call at night, you know.”
When he arched a disbelieving eyebrow, she explained, “I exercise. And study. I actually have a lot on my plate.”
“You study?” He chuckled. “What’s left for you to learn? I thought you knew it all.”
“If you must know, I’m teaching myself Italian. And a little Greek. And kickboxing, too. All the things I lied about in my interview that impressed you so much.”
“You’re teaching yourself kickboxing?”
“I have a great video.”
His tone was gently mocking. “You can’t learn self-defense that way, Kristie. Let me set up some lessons for you. Or I can teach you myself. I have a black belt in karate—”
“And I have a pink belt in pacifism,” she retorted. “I don’t need self-defense training. I just want to understand what my operatives go through. It’s a Zen thing—mental, not physical.”
“Zen kickboxing?” Ray chuckled again, then shook his head as though to clear away the congenial moment. “Starting today, you’re using your backup.”
“But—”
“If something happens that your backup can’t handle, he or she will contact you, even if it’s three o’clock in the morning. You’ve got to trust them to do their jobs half as well as you do yours.”
“Like I said, the operatives don’t call in the middle of the night unless it’s an emergency. Which means the backup is going to have to refer the call to me anyway. It just seems like a waste of time.”
“Emergencies?”