“Aren’t we?” he countered.
“Hmm.” She flattened her mouth. “I suppose so. Which just drives home that old saying,with friends like these, who needs enemies?”
He chuckled again. And before he could think better of it, threw an arm around her shoulders to steer her toward the coffee maker. “Oh, come on. I’m notthatbad, am I?”
“No.” She shook her head. “And that’s the problem. You’re not bad at all.”
He stopped and glanced down into her upturned face. He expected to find the usual teasing light in her eyes. He was confused when instead she just looked…earnest.
“Why’s that a problem?”
“Because I don’twantto like you, Fish. It’s better for me when you’re actively giving me reasons todislike you.”
“I don’t understand.” He shook his head.
“Don’t you?”
He frowned as confusion gave way to an impossible idea.
Did she…likehim? Like,likehim like him?
No way,he quickly squashed the thought. It was too absurd.
Eliza came from money. He’d been born as poor as a church mouse. Her family had been part of American politicsfor generations. His family name was considered a swear word by some in north Louisiana. She had three degrees. He’d graduated high school on a wing and a prayer.
But he’d swear the look on her face said—
“Eliza!” Ozzie’s voice echoed from the second floor. “If I have any hope of taking down all these damned CCTV cameras, I need caffeine! Tout de suite!”
“Right!” she hollered in response. “On my way!”
Fisher felt oddly bereft when she slid out from under his arm to grab the coffee carafe. After snagging a mug big enough to second as a soup bowl, she jogged from the kitchen, leaving him to stare after her retreating form.
What the hell just happened?
He replayed the scene in his mind and came up with a big ol’ handful of nada.
Shaking his head, he decided,I’m tired. The groove in my hip is burnin’ like hellfire. And I’ve just been put through the emotional ringer after tellin’ my tale and listenin’ to hers.
Eliza Meadows didn’t like him. Not likethat. In fact, she’d made it crystal clear on many occasions that most days it took everything in her simply totoleratehim.
Slapping both cheeks, he muttered to himself, “Get it together, son. Stop buildin’ castles in the sky.”
8
Chicago’s FBI Field Office
When Hannah cracked open the door of the women’s restroom to find Agent Mulder with his back to her and his cell phone pressed to his ear, she blinked, momentarily discombobulated.
She’d expected to find him standing guard. She’d expected to have to do a juke move to avoid his grasp. She’d expected for it to be a footrace to the exit door and then a chase down the stairwell to the bottom level where,hopefully, Sam would be waiting to whisk her away to safety.
But if she couldsneakher way out? Just slip through the cracks of FBI custody without them being the wiser?
Oh, that would be so much better.
Especially because her idea of exercise was hot yoga on Tuesdays and Thursdays followed by smoothies at the corner juice bar. She hadn’t sprinted since… Well, the last time she could remember sprinting was in the fifth grade when Tommy Fiorintino had chased her around the playground with the slimy corpse of a long-dead frog.
Glancing at the door with its tempting red and white exit sign, she wondered if she’d given Sam enough time to make the journey to the Near West Side neighborhood where the FBI’s Chicago branch was located.
