Claire’s room felt smaller with both of them in it. Garrett grabbed his go-bag and checked his gear. Weapons, tactical equipment, extra magazines. He hated not being with her, but he needed to be in the op center. He couldn’t exactly hold meetings in here. Let Bobcat take watch while he coordinated the details of what they’d do, no matter what stunt the killer tried to pull.
Because he would. Garrett didn’t need to be a profiler or a psychologist to know that.
“What’s that?”
Garrett turned. Claire was looking at his open bag. At the photograph tucked into the inside pocket. It had half fallen out.
His chest tightened. He quickly shoved it back inside and zipped the bag. “Nothing.”
“Looks like a photo.” She moved closer. “Is it of you and your sister?”
He should have hidden it better. Should have left it somewhere she couldn’t see. But he’d needed it close. Needed the reminder of why he was here. Why he couldn’t fail.
The photo was old. Two kids at a park. Lily, age ten, grinning at the camera. And Bobby, age fourteen, his arm around her shoulders. The last photo their mother had taken of the two of them before Lily died.
“It’s private,” Garrett said, keeping his back to her.
“You carry her photo with you. Just like I carry Lily’s.” She caught his eye and shoved the framed photo at him. “These photos remind us of why we do what we do.”
He couldn’t speak and barely glanced at it. His throat felt tight. His chest, too.
Her gaze dropped to his bag as she brought her framed photo to her chest. “Can I see yours?”
“No.” He grabbed the bag’s strap. “It’s... I don’t share it.”
Claire’s expression softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine. Nothing about this was fine.
“What was her name? You never told me.”
Garrett’s hands stilled on his bag. This was dangerous territory. One wrong word and she’d start connecting dots. Would start seeing patterns. Would realize?—
“I should go,” he said.
“Don’t change the subject. Your sister. What was her name?”
“Claire—”
“Please.” Her voice was soft now. Vulnerable. “I told you about Lily. About the worst night of my life. I just... I want to know about yours.”
He couldn’t tell her. Couldn’t say Lily’s name and watch recognition dawn in her eyes. Couldn’t risk everything. “She was a good kid. That’s all that matters.”
“Wolf.” Claire’s voice was strange now. Uncertain. “What was her name?”
“I need to go.” He grabbed his bag and opened the door.
“Wolf, wait?—”
He was out the door before she could ask again. The new man, Bobcat, was waiting. “Sir,” he said, coming to attention.
“Bobcat, this is Agent Dawson.” He motioned at Claire. “Claire, this is your new bodyguard.”
Bobcat started to walk inside. Claire put a hand on his chest to stop him. “No.”
Garrett sighed. “Claire.”
She tossed Lily’s picture on the bed and walked out of the room. “I’m coming with you.”
