The Next Accident - Lisa Gardner [143]
“Hey,” she said. She opened the door a little wider.
“Can I come in?”
“It’s been known to happen.”
She let him in. SupSpAg had something on his mind. He walked all the way to her family room where he promptly paced back and forth while she gnawed her lower lip. Six days ago they’d been so close. Why did they suddenly feel like strangers?
“I’ve been meaning to call,” he said.
“Uh-huh.”
“I didn’t, though. I’m sorry.” He hesitated. “I didn’t know what to say.”
“‘Hello’ is always a good start. Some people like to follow that with, ‘And how are you?’ I find that works better than, ‘Drop dead.’” She smiled.
He winced. “You’re mad.”
“Getting there.”
“You’ve been very understanding.”
“Oh God, are you breaking up with me?”
He finally stopped pacing, looking genuinely startled. “I didn’t think so.”
“You didn’t think so? What does that mean? I asked if you were breaking up with me. If you’re not, for God’s sake say no, with authority!”
“No, with authority!” he said.
“Five days, six hours, and thirty-seven minutes!”
“What’s that?”
“How long since you promised to call. Not that I’m counting or anything.” Her hands flew up into the air. “Oh God, I’ve become one of those women who waits by the phone. I swore I would never be one of those poor saps waiting by the phone. Look at what you’ve done to me. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”
“Rainie, I swear I haven’t been trying to torture you. I swear, last week when you arrived, I’ve never been so happy to see anyone. I’ve never . . . needed anyone the way I needed you. When I drove you to the airport, all I could think was that I didn’t want you to go. Then I had this image of us—driving to and from airports, the high of getting together, the low of splitting apart, trying to be a couple, but still leading separate lives and . . . And in all honesty, then I thought that I was much too old for this shit. There are so few things that make me happy, Rainie. There is so little I have left. So why was I driving you to the airport?”
“I had a ticket?”
He sighed. She could see the tightness around his eyes. He stood too far away, half of the loft looming between them, but she couldn’t bring herself to close the gap. He had more to say. That was the problem. He’d said the good stuff, so if he still had more . . .
“I’m no longer an FBI agent,” he told her quietly. “I tendered my resignation to the Bureau two days ago.”
“No way.” She rocked back on her heels; she couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d suddenly announced that he could fly.
“I’ve decided to reinvent my life. Kimberly has returned to school and is saying she’s perfectly fine, so we know she’s going to need help. Even if she’s too stubborn to let me hold her hand, I think it would mean a lot to her to know that I’m really there for her this time. Not out in the field where I could get hurt. Not running back to the job as I’ve always done. But close. Say in New York, somewhere by NYU, where she could drop in for dinner if she liked or simply show up to chat. I’m thinking I’ll get a loft, put up a shingle and work as an independent consultant for law enforcement agencies.”
“Profiler for Hire?”
He smiled. “You’d be surprised how many profilers retire to become consultants. You get to pick your cases, choose your hours, and best of all, ignore all the politics because they’re no longer your problem. It’s a good setup. Of course, there is one problem.”
Rainie eyed him warily. “I’ll bite. What problem?”
“I’d like to have a partner.”
“You came all the way here to tell me that you’re offering Glenda a job?”
He rolled his eyes. “No Rainie, I came all the way here to offer you a job. With full benefits I might add.”
“What?” Far from being calmed, she became incensed. “Five days, six hours, and thirty-seven minutes later, this is what you’re offering me? A dental plan?”
He finally appeared uneasy. “Well, maybe not dental. The company is a start-up.