saint of captives.”
“What does it all mean?” Dylan asked. “Why would she send you guys those medals?”
“I don’t know, but we all can guess what the initials VDG stand for,” Tom said, a simmering rage burning in his gut. If Del Gardo was responsible for Julie’s death, Tom would personally like to get the man in a room alone for about ten minutes.
“We need to get that bastard,” Dylan exclaimed, his dark eyes burning bright. “We all know she was probably killed because she got too close to finding Del Gardo’s whereabouts.” He shook the copy of the map Tom had given him. “The answer to where he is might be right here. We just need to figure it out.”
“We owe it to Julie,” Ben said.
Nobody thought it more important than Tom to get Del Gardo in custody once again. While he mourned for Julie, he knew capturing Del Gardo wouldn’t bring her back.
What worried him was that as long as Del Gardo was free, Callie was in danger and he only prayed that when danger reached out for her again he would be in the right place at the right time to make sure she didn’t end up like the strangled Julie Grainger.
Chapter Three
Although one of the most important crimes the lab was involved in at the moment was the Julie Grainger murder, that didn’t mean all other crime in the area had taken a holiday.
Callie’s days were generally spent dividing her time between administrative duties and actual hands-on lab work. Today was no different, except for the fact that she found her thoughts drifting far too often from work to Tom.
It had been difficult to fall asleep the night before knowing he was in her house. Memories of their time together kept drifting through her mind no matter how hard she’d tried to shut them off.
She didn’t want to remember the good times, how they’d laughed together, how they’d made love. He’d been the first man, the only man who had ever owned her heart and as their relationship had progressed she’d begun to fantasize the future they’d have together.
She’d been such a fool. If she’d learned anything living with her mother, it was that love was fleeting and men were temporary.
What she needed to remember was how devastated she’d been when Tom had chosen an assignment over her, when he’d shattered her dreams and walked away without a backward glance.
What she needed to remember was the heartbreak she’d suffered all alone because he was gone and she’d been left to deal with the tragic aftermath all by herself. An edge of grief tried to take hold of her, but she consciously shoved it away, refusing to allow herself to feel.
At five she was seated at her desk when Jerry Griswold ambled through the door and leaned against the wall. “It’s official,” he said. “The gun used in the robbery of the convenience store on Ash Avenue is the same gun used in the robbery of that gas station on Twelfth Street.”
“Patrick suspected it was the same perp,” she said.
“Ballistics don’t lie,” Jerry replied.
Callie smiled at the older man. “And that’s why we love them, right?”
“You got that right. I just figured I’d let you know. Have you heard anything about the investigation of the fire?”
Her smile faltered. “Patrick stopped by earlier and said they were trying to identify the accelerant used, but other than that they have nothing to go on. I doubt if we’ll ever find out who set that fire.”
He frowned and raked a hand through his gray hair. “We need to tighten up security around here. I can’t believe somebody managed to get inside after hours and do something like that.”
She nodded. “I’ve put in a request for some additional money for tighter security measures, but you know how that goes.”
He nodded sagely. “Red tape and budget cuts.”
“You’ve got it.”
“I’m heading out. Anything you need before I go?”
She smiled at him fondly. He was such a nice man. “No, thanks, I’ll be leaving here pretty soon myself.”
As Jerry left the office she glanced at her clock and instantly tension twisted in her stomach as she realized Tom would be arriving at any moment.
Last night it had been easy to retreat to the privacy of her bedroom. But tonight she would have to get through dinner and the hours before bedtime with him.
Maybe he would hide out in his bedroom tonight. She couldn’t get so lucky, she thought with a grimace.
At precisely six o’clock he arrived at her office door to take her home. “You ready?” he asked. He looked tired, the lines on his face deeper than usual.
Although she didn’t want to leave, wasn’t accustomed to going home so early, she didn’t argue the point. She merely nodded and got up from her desk. It took her only a minute to exchange her lab coat for her ski jacket, then they left the lab and headed for the elevators.
“Tomorrow afternoon I need to go take a look at a site where a woman was supposedly killed by a bear,” she said. She knew he probably wouldn’t be pleased by her need to be out and away from the lab, but her job involved other things besides test tubes and lab work. There was a certain amount of field work that was necessary.
“Just tell me where you need to go and I’ll get you there,” he replied. They rode the elevator down and when they reached the ground floor he grabbed her by the arm and held her tight against his body as they left the building.
Once they were in the car she turned to look at him and again noticed the weary lines on his face. “Bad day?” she asked.
“I met with Dylan Acevedo and Ben Parrish and we had a small memorial service for Julie.”
“I’m sorry, that must have been difficult.” As she thought of Julie her heart squeezed with pain. “I feel so responsible for what happened to her.”
He turned and raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Why should you feel responsible?”
She pulled her coat more tightly around her. “I guess because she was working on the Del Gardo case. She wanted to find him before he found me.”
“Callie, Julie wasn’t murdered because of you. She was murdered because she was doing her job. We all know the risks when we take on any assignment.” He dropped one hand from the steering wheel and rubbed it across his chest, and then frowned and returned his hand to the wheel.
“Julie would be angry with you if she knew you suffered a moment of guilt over her death,” he continued. “She died doing what she loved to do—chasing down leads to find bad guys. It wasn’t just what she did, it was who she was.”
Callie stared out the passenger window and thought about what he’d just said. Yes, that had been the problem three years ago. Being an FBI agent wasn’t just what Tom did, it was who he was. He wasn’t a husband or a father. He couldn’t
