“You just look like death warmed over.”
He loved his family. He really did. But he preferred being frank with them versus having them be frank with him, and he was rattled and raw from yesterday’s trauma. Dr. Ling had given him the number of a psychiatrist. The USMS had people he could talk to.
He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He just wanted the son of a bitch who’d shot him and Rob off the streets. In a perfect world, Nate would be the one who nailed his ass.
Gus flipped an orange omelette onto a plate and set it in front of Carine, who dug right in.
Nate excused himself and beelined for the bathroom in time for a couple of dry heaves over the john.
When he returned to his family, Gus and his sisters were cleaning up the kitchen and packing. “You need your space,” Carine said. “You always have. But if there’s anything we can do, you know where to find us.”
“Guys—”
“Give yourself some time,” Gus said. “Don’t fight it. You’re going to have the yips for a few weeks. It’s normal.”
Antonia, looking tired and strained, smiled. “By ‘yips’ he means posttrauma stress symptoms. Nightmares, jumpiness, irritability. They’re the body’s way of processing a traumatic event. You can also do rapid-eye-movement desensitization and reprogramming therapy—” She stopped herself. “I’m sure your doctor’s discussed your options with you.”
Nate got through breakfast and afterward almost told them not to leave. But he didn’t, and once they were out the door, he headed to the hospital to check in on Rob.
He found Juliet Longstreet slumped in a straight-backed plastic chair in the private waiting room outside the I.C.U. where they had Rob. It was barely nine o’clock in the morning, but her eyes were closed. “Sleeping on the job,” Nate said.
She didn’t open her eyes. “Go to hell.”
“Hey. I was shot yesterday. Be nice.” He also outranked her, but she wouldn’t care. “How’s the sister?”
Now Juliet opened her eyes and sat up straight, frowning. “She’s buds with the president, that’s how’s the sister.”
Nate let her words register. “President Poe?”
“He grew up next to the Dunnemores in Tennessee. Sarah’s like a daughter to him. Rob’s a pal, too. Did you know?”
“Rob never mentioned he’d even met the president. Did you tell Joe Collins?”
“Oh, yeah. Big time. He’s Mr. Cool. Just said, ‘Thank you, Deputy.’” She did a perfect imitation of the FBI investigator. “He might have known already, but I wasn’t taking any chances.”
“Smart move.”
“Bet he’s got the Secret Service hanging on his shoulder, not that we’ll ever know. If the shooter targeted Rob specifically because of his friendship with the president—” She broke off, no further comment necessary. “Sarah wanted me to leave her to her own devices last night, but I gave her a choice of me in her hotel room with her or her on the futon at my place.”
Nate gave a wry smile. He’d known Juliet since she’d started with the Marshals Service four years ago. She was tough and ambitious. “You warned her about the fish and the plants?”
“I did. She was fine with them. Me—I didn’t sleep a wink. I kept picturing assassins bursting through the window and shooting us both dead.”
“You’d have shot them before they shot you.”
“What if someone wants to upset the president by—”
“Don’t go there.”
Juliet clamped her mouth shut. She was thirty and good at her job, but she’d say anything—and nothing intimidated her. Sometimes it scared senior deputies like Nate, but she’d been an asset since her arrival in New York eighteen months ago. She’d kept her relationship with Rob quiet. Then he ended up in New York, but the two of them working out of the same office had apparently killed their relationship.
Nate poured himself a cup of coffee that smelled as if it’d been made hours ago. He added powdered creamer but didn’t stir. He took a sip before the creamer had melted, the little fake milk lumps making the brew even nastier that it might have been.
He eyed Juliet. She had outdoorsy good looks and a direct manner that sometimes took people by surprise. She could be irritating as hell, but she’d earned Nate’s respect. “I take it Rob never told you he and President Poe were friends, either.”
“It didn’t come up.” She stretched her arms above her head, yawning. “Knowing Rob, he wouldn’t want it to become a ‘thing,’ get in the way of his work, make other people feel self-conscious. I gather the sister’s closer to the president than Rob is.”
“Makes for a hell of a fly in the ointment. What’s the word on Rob this morning?”
“He’s doing better. They’ve got him off the respirator. What about you? Should you even be here?”
The Tylenol had kicked in, but Nate still could feel the ache. He didn’t want his brain fuzzed up with prescription painkillers. He swallowed more of the lousy coffee. “I won’t be doing push-ups for a couple weeks, but otherwise I’m fine.”
“What about your head?”
He set his cup on the edge of the coffee station. He couldn’t drink another sip. “I didn’t get shot in the head.”
Juliet scowled. “You know what I mean. Everyone says you should go home to New Hampshire, at least for a few days. Why don’t you?”
He didn’t answer. Gus and his sisters had asked him the same question, and he hadn’t answered them. He wasn’t that close to Juliet Longstreet.
But, of course, she had no instinct for when she was pushing up against her boundaries. “Christ, you are a case, aren’t you?” She got up and poured herself a cup of coffee, taking it black. “I hope you don’t plan to go into the office today and start pissing people off.”
“Juliet—”
“Someone’s going to tie you up and toss you into a trunk, drive you to New Hampshire.” She took a big gulp of coffee, no sign she thought it was old and near rancid. “It’s hard to stand on the sidelines. Can’t be easy seeing the FBI working the case.”
“It’s their job to investigate the shooting of two federal agents—”
“So? Doesn’t mean you have to like it.”
He reminded himself that she’d had a shock yesterday herself—arriving on the scene in time to see the paramedics working on her ex-boyfriend. Rob was still in rough shape. Nate figured he could cut her some slack.
She grinned feebly at him. “I’m overstepping, huh? At least you can go home and climb mountains. I’m stuck here baby-sitting Rob’s twin sister. She’s—oh, shit.” Juliet groaned, nearly
