brain refused to digest that she’d actually found her after all this time. Or, perhaps Kendra wasn’t sure the woman deserved the title. “Is Beverly Walsh a Fed?”
Joe shrugged, a sympathetic smile on his face. He reached for her hand and led her after the speed-walking Beverly. “I’m afraid it’s a little more complicated than that.”
In any other scenario, Joe Rose would’ve wanted to take Kendra to a coffee shop and properly catch up on their lives. But, seeing as he’d just shot a man who had tried to kill her, it was probably best to take Beverly’s lead and keep moving.
It’d been years since he’d last seen Kendra, back in their training days at the FBI Academy. Work Hard, Play Hard seemed to be her motto back then. If his analysis proved correct, it stemmed partly from an inner drive Joe couldn’t relate to and a fierce desire to prove something. To whom, he didn’t know.
The years—or perhaps the job—had taken an obvious toll on her. She looked the same—it wasn’t that—but her eyes reflected a deep weariness as well as a guarded nature he didn’t remember being there before. She looked leaner, stronger physically, yet more vulnerable. Perhaps he’d spent too much time studying lately and was reading too much into her appearance. She had, after all, just met her birth mother and narrowly avoided being killed.
Kendra tugged slightly on his hand, and only then did he realize he was still holding hers. He silently prayed for wisdom and protection, then gave her fingers a light squeeze and let go. Beverly’s speed walk could beat many runners, but she turned—a good twenty paces ahead of them—and made the universal symbol for “stop” with her hand. Joe slowed, no longer attempting to catch up. She gave him a nod of approval and disappeared around a corner. He felt certain he knew where she was headed.
“I appreciate the help, but you’re not my analyst and this isn’t a mission, so you don’t need to lead me by the hand,” Kendra said. “In fact, I don’t really understand why you’re here, so I hope you’ll explain that, as well.”
“Of course.” He shrugged. “It wasn’t intentional. I’m a pastor now. I mean, I’m transitioning to become one full-time. I’m taking steps to leave the Bureau, at least.” He cringed, trying to figure out how to back up and explain better.
She halted. “What?” Her gaze darted ahead, and she seemed to notice that Beverly had disappeared from their line of vision. “Great. I’m losing her.”
“Beverly wanted us to split up. There could be eyes watching her.” Joe stepped into a side alley. “I think she’s going to her place, her real place. She has a town house for show, but I’ve been to her actual house once. It’s probably best we go a different way to meet her.”
“I have a million questions that won’t wait and—” She placed her hands on her hips and regarded him. “Why do I have the feeling you already know what I’m going to ask?”
He took a deep breath. It felt like lying not to admit what he knew. “I found out recently about you and your twin sister, Audrey. The circumstances for you meeting Beverly today aren’t ideal, but—”
She took a step backward and bit her lip before a mask of nonchalance dropped in place. “How did you find out I have a twin? I didn’t even know until a few months ago, and ever since then, the FBI has been diligent in making sure no one else found out. So I know whatever you’re doing here with my—with Beverly—isn’t FBI-sanctioned. Why are you here, Joe?”
His recent training taught him how to handle many a delicate moment, but this discussion felt like entering an unmarked minefield. He exhaled, trying and failing to imagine what meeting Beverly had to be like for her. “You should know that even though Beverly seems like a hard woman, I know for a fact she cares more than she’d ever admit. Beyond that, answering your question right now is a little tricky. I’m not sure it’s my place to really—”
She grabbed his shoulder and turned him until they were face-to-face. “It’s about me, Joe. I think it’s my place to know. Start talking.” Her cheeks reddened slightly and she let go and took a step back. “Please. It’s not a pleasant sensation to feel like you’re the last to know who your own mother is.”
He studied her face, missing the smile that had been on her face so often back at Quantico. “Like I was trying to tell you, I’m actually in the process of resigning from the Bureau. I took an extended leave that’s about to be permanent.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Why? You have a great reputation.”
“That’s nice to hear, but I found it just wasn’t for me. I came here to utilize the theology—”
Kendra placed a hand on her hip. “Joe, how many degrees do you have now?”
He collected degrees like most people did books, although he mostly stuck to the fields of psychology and sociology. “Only five. I’ve been auditing your mo—” He caught himself before saying mother. “Beverly’s classes. Actually, she was the one who made me realize I wasn’t ready to completely cut ties with the FBI. So after I tender my resignation, I’ll apply to continue with the FBI on a volunteer basis.”
“Volunteer? You can’t volunteer for the FBI.”
“As an FBI chaplain.”
She pulled her chin back and frowned. “Huh?” The sirens grew louder as the sound of revving motors got closer. She pointed to his arm. “Walk with me.”
He did as she asked. She grabbed his hand with her right and walked with him, head down, as if they were a couple strolling. “Until I know what’s going on, I think it’s best to leave the police out of the loop. Look up and act surprised by what’s happening.”
Three police cars zoomed past them. The air crackled with the chaos that came after a shooting. Joe wasn’t ready to process that he’d been the one to fire a bullet that had taken a life, even if he only did it to save a life.
Another cruiser slowed ever so briefly as the officer in the passenger side glanced at them. They were looking for the shooter, but Kendra’s face showed the perfect amount of confusion and concern that he knew the officer would assume they were just bystanders. His suspicion was confirmed as the officer shook his head and they zoomed away, likely to check all the nearby alleys.
“Covert work comes naturally to you, doesn’t it?” He couldn’t help but wonder if she pretended to be part of a couple with a lot of agents.
Kendra dropped his hand. “I don’t mean to be rude, but can you get to the part about my supposed mother telling you about me?”
Another reminder it wasn’t time to catch up. “Yes. She’s made brilliant discoveries in the field of behavior analysis, she’s an excellent professor and—” he peeked around the brick building before rounding the corner “she’s also watched very closely by hired guns, like the one who tried to kill you.”
He pointed ahead to a blue Victorian house that from the outside appeared to be falling apart. The porch sagged and the landscaping, while trimmed neatly, contained more weeds than grass. Even the windows were covered in grime from years of neglect. They would have to cross the street, in the open, to reach it. “I really think I should let her have a chance to explain the rest. You won’t have to wait much longer.”
The
