"How are things at the office?"
"Busy but manageable. We've got a decent team right now, which helps. Actually, that's kind of why I'm calling." DeMarco's tone shifted slightly, becoming more businesslike. It sounded good on her. "I have a favor to ask, if you're up for it."
Kate saved the document she'd been working on and gave the phone her full attention. "What kind of favor?"
"I'd like you to come by the office tomorrow if you can. Not for a consultation or anything work-related, at least not directly." DeMarco paused again. "We have a new agent who transferred in from the Chicago office about three weeks ago. She's good…reallygood, actually, but she's having some trouble adjusting to how we do things here. I think she might benefit from talking to someone with your experience."
"You want me to mentor her?" Kate asked, chuckling.
"Not officially, no. Nothing that formal. Just meet with her, maybe give her some perspective. She reminds me a lot of myself when I was starting out, actually. Smart, capable, but maybe trying a little too hard to prove herself. I’d do it myself, but I’m slammed for the next two weeks."
Kate remembered what DeMarco had been like when they first started working together. Confident but defensive, always prepared for criticism, always ready to justify her decisions. It had taken time for DeMarco to relax into her own abilities, to trust herself without constantly looking over her shoulder.
"What's her background?"
"Violent crimes, mostly. She worked gang cases in Chicago for four years before transferring here. She's technically gotmore experience than some of the other junior agents, but she's still finding her footing with the team dynamics. I think hearing from someone who's been through the full career arc, someone who's not her direct supervisor, might help her see the bigger picture."
Kate glanced down at Michael, who had successfully rebuilt his tower and was now carefully placing a final block on top. "What time tomorrow?"
"Could you do ten? I know that's early, but she's got training in the afternoon and I thought it might be good to do this before her day gets too packed."
"Ten works. Allen can watch Michael."
"Great. I really appreciate this, Kate." DeMarco's voice warmed with genuine gratitude. "I know it's not exactly your usual consulting work, but I think it could make a real difference for her."
"It's perfectly fine. I'm happy to help."
They talked for a few more minutes, catching up on other small details before ending the call. Kate set her phone down and looked at the time on her laptop. She still had an hour before she needed to start thinking about lunch, enough time to make more progress on the fraud case notes.
But instead of returning to the case file, Kate found herself thinking about the meeting tomorrow. DeMarco's request had seemed simple enough on the surface, just a casual mentoring session with a new agent. Yet something about the conversation felt slightly off, a subtle undertone that suggested this wasn't quite as straightforward as it appeared. Or maybe it could have just been that DeMarco was very busy. On the other hand, Kate had known DeMarco long enough to recognize when she was being careful about how she framed something. The way she'd described the new agent, the emphasis on needing perspective from someone outside the supervisory chain, the specific timingof the meeting before the agent's training session. It all pointed to something more than a simple introduction.
She should have asked more questions, should have pressed for details about what exactly DeMarco expected from this meeting. But she'd agreed too quickly, responding on instinct rather than analysis. Now she was committed to showing up tomorrow morning without really understanding what she was walking into.
Kate pulled up her calendar and added the meeting to tomorrow's schedule. Ten o'clock at the field office, duration unknown, purpose still somewhat unclear. She'd know more when she got there, she supposed. DeMarco wouldn't have asked if it wasn't important, and Kate trusted her judgment even when the full picture remained incomplete.
She returned to the fraud case, scrolling through transaction records and making notes about the patterns she'd identified. But part of her attention stayed on tomorrow's meeting, wondering what exactly she'd just agreed to—and wondering if she was the right person to mentor a new agent in this new, modern environment.
CHAPTER TWO
Kate heard the bathwater running upstairs, followed by Michael's delighted squeals as Allen convinced him it was time to get clean. The evening routine had become Allen's domain over the past few months, giving Kate a quiet hour to herself. She appreciated the time, even if she sometimes felt guilty about not being more involved in the nightly process.
She settled into the chair in their home office, a converted guest room that had slowly accumulated filing cabinets and bookshelves over the years. Her laptop sat open on the desk, the screen showing a document titled simply "Notes - Early Cases." A cup of chamomile tea steamed gently on a coaster to her right, and she'd queued up a playlist of Bach concertos that played at low volume from the small speaker near the window.
The memoir project had started with good intentions but remained frustratingly amorphous. Kate had imagined it would be straightforward, organizing her career chronologically and filling in the details as she went. At first, she'd thought it seemed a little pretentious, but DeMarco had convinced her otherwise, stating it could be a valuable resource for younger agents. Since then. Kate had found herself working in scattered bursts, writing down whatever memories surfaced rather than following any particular structure. Some nights she'd add detailed notes about a specific case. Others, she'd just jot down names of partners she'd worked with or cities where investigations had taken her. The document had become a collection of fragments—moments captured before they slipped away entirely, with no real narrative connecting them yet.
Tonight she'd opened a file labeled "1994 - Pennsylvania." The case had happened during her second year with the Bureau, back when she was still learning to trust her instincts andstill believed that understanding criminal behavior meant you could predict it. She'd been wrong about that last part, as this particular case had taught her.
Kate stared at the cursor blinking on the screen. She'd typed a single sentence an hour ago:"The Harriman case was the first time I started to get a better grasp on what true evil looked like."The sentence sat there, inadequate and melodramatic, capturing nothing of what had actually happened.
James Harriman had been a middle school teacher in a suburb outside Pittsburgh. Respected, well-liked, involved in his community. He'd coached youth soccer and volunteered at the local food bank. When Kate and her partner had first interviewed him as part of a routine investigation into missing children in the area, he'd been cooperative and seemingly genuine in his concern. He'd even provided them with names of students who might have information about one of the missing girls.
It wasn't until three weeks later, when they'd finally obtained a warrant to search his property, that they'd discovered what he really was. The basement had been converted into something that still made Kate's stomach turn when she thought about it. Four children had been held there at various times over the course of eighteen months. Only two had survived.
Kate took a sip of her tea, trying to use the warmth to settle the cold feeling that had spread through her chest. She'd interviewed hundreds of criminals over the course of her career, seen crime scenes that would stay with her forever, but Harriman had been different. He'd looked at her during the interrogation with complete calm, explaining his actions as if he were discussing a hobby rather than confessing to atrocities. There had been no remorse, no recognition that what he'd done was wrong. Just a practical discussion of logistics and opportunities.
Kate had only been twenty-eight years old, still new enough to the Bureau that she thought she could compartmentalize everything, keep the work separate from who she was as a person. The Harriman case had shown her that separation was impossible. Some cases got inside you and stayed there, changing how you saw the world.
The cursor kept blinking. Kate hadn't added anything to the single sentence. How could she write about this? How could she explain what it felt like to stand in that basement, seeing the evidence of what had happened there, and then sit across from Harriman while he described it all with the emotional investment of someone recounting their morning commute?
