Identity Crisis. Kate Donovan
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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?” Ray reached for a pile of folders and flipped open the top one. “According to this file, you specifically told Will McGregor that he should contact you—day or night—with any question or concern, however small.” Raising his gaze, he repeated in disgust, “However small?”
“Okay. I went a little overboard. And for the record, it didn’t have any effect. McGregor has never once contacted me. Not at night, not during the day. Not for anything, big or small.”
Ray surprised her by grinning at that. “Drives you nuts, doesn’t it?”
“No.”
“Sure it does. It bugs you that he won’t let you play virtual field operative. He does his job his way, not yours. That’s why I’ve been assigning so many of his cases to you. So you’d learn the division of labor around this place.” His voice softened. “Just for the record, McGregor never contacts any spinner once the case is under way. Not even me. So don’t take it personally. But do try to learn a lesson from it.”
Leaning forward, he explained, “You and McGregor are a great team. Every assignment you’ve had with him has been an unqualified success. Why? Because you prepare a flawless background report and identity for him, and he takes it from there. End of story.”
“He really doesn’t call you either?”
Ray confirmed with a nod. “I used to handle all his cases personally because they’re invariably hot potatoes. But I’ve never once spoken to the guy in my capacity as a spinner. And only rarely as the director of SPIN. To him, we’re just an anonymous resource. Because he’s a true professional.”
“I’m sold,” she assured her boss. “From now on, I’m putting a new note in my file. Something like, ‘If you have a nonemergency question between the hours of midnight and 6:00 a.m., please contact my backup.’ How’s that?”
“Six hours off? No way.” Ray leaned forward. “Seven p.m. to 7:00 a.m.—and all day Saturday and Sunday.”
“I’m okay with seven to seven on work nights, as long as the operative is in the same time zone as us. Otherwise, I’ll have to adjust it. And weekends are tricky—”
“Did I mention this isn’t a negotiation?” he asked, clearly struggling not to smile. “But it’s a step in the right direction, so I’ll take it for now.”
“And?”
The smile became a full-fledged laugh. “Yeah, you’re back in my will.”
Kristie sighed in relief. “I really am sorry, Ray.”
“Stop apologizing. You’re a pain in the ass, but you also saved that kid—both kids, actually—so you’re getting another chance. Don’t blow it. And Kris?”
“Yes?”
He walked around to her side of the desk and grasped her chin in his hand, then looked deep into her eyes and murmured, “Nice job.”
She bit her lip, unsure of how to respond, especially in light of David’s remarks.
Then Ray made the decision for her, stepping back and reminding her gruffly, “I’ve got tons of cleanup to do today, thanks to your little prank. And you’ve got a new red folder waiting for you on your desk, so get cracking. Your moment of glory is officially over.”
It was a relief to head back to her SPIN cubicle, tucked in a corner with a view of treetops and clouds. She knew that some people would balk at the industrial furniture and artificial lighting, but to Kristie, this high-tech workspace was heaven.
She checked her messages—three new ones in the last half hour, all complimenting her on the Rodriguez case. Then she reached for the new assignment Ray had left on her credenza, but a ring from her priority line, which was reserved for operative assistance, stopped her.
As always when an operative made contact, her pulse quickened, preparing her for a new challenge. But her voice remained calm, professional and reassuring. “This is S-3. Please identify yourself.”
“This is Special Agent Justin Russo. I’ve got a grateful fourteen-year-old here who wants to talk to Melissa Daniels. Any chance of that?”
“Absolutely. Put him on.”
Randy’s voice was filled with awe. “Hi, Miss Daniels.”
“Hey, sugar. How’s life?”
“Better. Because of you.”
Choking back an un-Melissa-like gulp, Kristie reminded him, “The way I hear it, Lizzie’s big brother was the one who really came through for her. So, fill me in. Have they let you visit her yet?”
“Yeah, we’ve been coloring together all morning. The shrinks want her to draw pictures. To see how messed up she is, I guess. And so far, she hasn’t drawn any monsters or anything. Just our house. And our dog. And us.”
“Those were the images that made her strong during those terrible days. In her heart, she knew you’d find her, some way, somehow.”
“It was you,” the boy insisted. “My mom wants you to come to dinner so we can thank you in person.”
“Tell her I’d love to, but it’s against the rules.”
“Yeah. That’s what Agent Russo said. But I was thinking…”
“Yes?”
“I’ll graduate in four years. Then I’ve gotta go to college. But after that, I want to help you rescue children. I’ll even do it for free, and get another job on the side or something.”
Touched, Kristie murmured, “You’ve got what it takes, Randy. That’s for sure. And you’ve got years to decide the best way to help. Look how many people played a part in saving Lizzie. The cops, the FBI, the witnesses, me, you—and now the psychologists, who are still saving her.”
“Yeah, but I want to do what you do.”
“Sugar, you’d have to get some major surgery before you could do that.”
She could hear him blushing through the phone, and congratulated herself impishly for the Melissaesque quip. “Give Lizzie a hug for me, sugar. And put Agent Russo on again.”
“Okay. Bye, Miss Daniels.”
“Bye, handsome.”
Justin was laughing when he got back on the line. “What did you say to the poor kid?”
“Hmm?”
“Never mind. We’ve got important business to discuss.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I’m taking the next two weeks off.”
“You deserve it.”
“Right. This case has been a killer. So I’m headed for Tahiti, and I want you to come along.”
Kristie sighed. “Take a real girl, Justin. You don’t know anything about me. I could be old enough to be your grandma. Or married. I could even be a guy.”
“I’ll take my chances,” he retorted, then his tone softened. “It doesn’t have to be romantic, Essie. We’re friends, right? I just want to get to know you. To thank you for what you did. Plus, you need a break, too. I’m sure Ortega’ll give you time off after what you