She looked at him then. Those blue eyes that saw too much. “Why do you care?”
Because I promised your best friend I’d take care of you. Because I failed once and won’t fail again. Because you’re CJ and I’m Bobby and fifteen years hasn’t changed that.
“It’s my job,” he said.
“Feels like more than that. Like you have one of those stories that gives you the motivation to help me.”
It was so much more than that. But he couldn’t tell her. Wouldn’t. It would change their dynamic too much.
“Let’s get you some food, Agent Dawson.”
“Claire.” Her voice was softer. “You can call me Claire.”
The name felt wrong in his mouth. She was CJ. Would always be CJ to him.
“Claire,” he said.
She smiled slightly. “Thank you for the tour. And for...” She gestured vaguely. “All of this.”
He held the door to return inside.
“So what’s my call sign?”
He stopped in his tracks. “Excuse me?”
She smiled a cunning, devious little smile. “My call sign. I know I have one. Lynx wouldn’t tell me. Said I had to ask you.”
Shit. “My unit will address you as Agent Dawson.”
“To my face, yes,” she said, still smiling. “Come on. We’re professionals here. What embarrassing call sign did you give me?”
This was going to go all kinds of wrong. The gleam in her eyes told him she wouldn’t quit until she’d weaseled it out of him or one of the others. Knowing Vivi, she’d probably tell her. “Paperclip.”
Claire’s jaw dropped open. “Come again.”
He mashed his lips together. Took a fortifying mental breath. “Your call sign is Paperclip.”
The smile morphed into a look of disgust. “Paperclip,” she echoed, realization dawning. “Because you think of me as a desk jockey?”
Yep, his life was about to become a living hell over a stupid name. “The victims all look like you. You’re the hinge—the paperclip—that brings the case together.”
She paced away, came back. He knew she was gearing up for more, but she surprised him when she said, “The stalker sent me a bracelet.” Her voice was quiet now. Vulnerable. “Silver. Delicate. My best friend had one just like it when we were girls. She was taken, killed. The man took me, too, but I survived.”
Garrett’s chest constricted. Lily’s bracelet.The one we buried with her.
“She was murdered fifteen years ago,” Claire continued, not realizing he already knew. “It’s why I do this work. Catching men like the Countdown Killer.”
He should say something. Anything. But his throat was tight. “I’m sorry,” he managed.
Claire’s eyes were distant, lost in memories. “That’s why he’s chosen me, because I’m some sort of unfinished business. The one who got away.”
Garrett took a step toward her. Couldn’t help it. “You fought back and lived. That took strength. Now, you suffer from survivor’s guilt and a need for vengeance.”
She looked at him, surprise in her expression. “You sound like the doctor.”
He shrugged. “She’s rubbed off on me. What can I say?”
“Do you suffer from survivor’s guilt and a need for vengeance, too?”
