'It'll be one of life's little mysteries,' he muttered under his breath as he hit the elevator button, riding up alone. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his coat, clenching his fists.
Cynicism gripped him hard, coupled with a mounting resentment. Christian felt certain that seeing Fiona again would only reinforce his callous attitude. His mind reeled with all the questions he would demand her to answer.
'Welcome home, Fie.' He furrowed his brow. 'It's a whole new world.'
Raven spent the first hour reviewing the case files Sam had laid on her desk, the ones from her father's past. Sam had placed a note on the top file, telling her he'd already conducted a background check on the 'Top Scumbag' list. He'd narrowed the prospects considerably. She set down her pen after making the final entry into her casebook. The connection to her father was a slender thread. And she knew it.
'It's gonna be a crapshoot.' She sighed, then dosed herself up with the caffeine from stale coffee. Her eyes trailed over to her partner's desk as she repeated a line from the movie
Tony always used the old line whenever he felt the need for her sage advice. Now the tables were turned. She picked up the phone and placed a call to the hospital, needing to hear the voice of her wingman. But first she would speak to the guardian at the gate to get the truth.
'How is he, Yolanda?' She tightened her grip on the phone, holding her breath as she waited to hear.
'He's in stable condition. Thank God. And the doctor says his prognosis looks good.' She heard a smile in Yolie's voice. The woman was practically giddy. 'He's eating up a storm. Can you imagine him eating hospital food, without loading it down with hot sauce? I couldn't be happier.'
Raven pictured her smiling face. Her euphoria was contagious.
'Oh, that's so good to hear. Call me if there's anything I can do for you or his parents.' Her eyes welled with tears, happy to hear the good news. 'Can I speak to him?'
'Oh, sure. Just a minute.'
She heard Yolanda's voice in the background and a rustle of fabric. In a moment, she heard Tony on the line.
'Hey, Mac.' His voice sounded weak, nowhere near his old self. But he still sounded damned good to her. 'How's the case?'
'Hey, Tony. I've made some headway, but I miss my partner.' Raven worried about telling him too much. She imagined how she'd feel if their situations were reversed and she was the one flat on her back, unable to help.
'I hear from the guys that Sam is helping you with some old case files. How's that going?'
She closed her eyes and shook her head. Tony was one tough guy. Still working the case even from the hospital. And the constant flood of visitors in blue uniforms would have kept him plugged in. No use shielding him from anything.
'I'm staring at a stack of old case folders right now. Thanks to Sam's help, we started with eleven cases, but are now down to four.' She flipped open her case notes and reviewed the summary. 'Two are dead, three in prison, one deported, and one moved out of state. That leaves four still living in the greater Chicago area.'
She read the rap sheets of the final four to him.
'Real maggots, huh?' His breathing sounded labored. 'What does your gut say?'
It took her a moment to retrieve one file. Flipping over the cover, she held up the mug shot inside.
'Dad made a personal note in one of his casebooks. He wrote 'gray dead eyes' like it really was supposed to mean something. My money is on Dad and old gray eyes, Logan McBride. But unfortunately, we've got no address on him.'
Staring at the old black-and-white photo, she knew her father had been dead-on. The man made her skin crawl, even in 2-D. The old rap sheet was a long one, and her father had arrested the bastard on a grand theft auto when he'd been a teen. But even at that age, McBride had all the makings of a hard case.
'Follow your instincts, Raven. My money's on you.' Tony cleared his throat. 'How are things going with Delacorte?'
Images of Christian flashed in her mind, his handsome face, the feel and smell of his skin. She had it bad. The time she'd spent with him now felt like a surreal dream. And a hollow sensation plagued her with the mention of his name. Raven craved him like a junkie off a bender.
'Too good. I just feel like pinching myself, like I'll wake up and he would be a figment of my sex-starved imagination.'
'Oh, Lord. I think that falls under TMI—too much information.' His attempt at laughter turned into a coughing jag. She knew it was time to cut the conversation short.
'Yeah, guess so. I forgot you're such a lightweight.' She grinned. 'Hey, Tony? I miss you. And I'm glad you're okay. I've been praying for you, you know.'
It was true. She found herself talking to no one, in her own head, confiding the desperation and fear for her partner's safety. It took her a moment to finally recognize that she was praying. Out of practice as she was, it felt like the closest she'd come to believing again. And with Tony taking a turn for the better, who was she to argue with the process?
'Will wonders never cease?' he replied. 'Take care, Mac. Let me know how those hard cases turn out.'
'I will, partner. I miss you. Did I mention that?'
'Yeah, a time or three.'
She hung up the phone, struggling to control a grin. Maybe things would turn out after all.
A menacing rumble called her attention to the window. The sky had turned nearly black with the onset of dusk and a brewing storm. The thunder bumper had been expected, but its timing for the five o'clock rush hour was just plain cruel.
The ominous rumble made her skin crawl. Maybe her optimism was a bit premature.
A crack of thunder made her jump. Her pulse quickened. Fiona felt thankful the jet had landed before the weather had gotten this bad. She clutched at her coat collar and drew it tighter around her throat. Her eyes peered over her shoulder into the gloom. The rain poured down like the heavens were angry. And she understood why.
With luggage near her feet, she paced the small waiting room of the Dunhill hangar, glancing at her watch once again. She'd asked for a ride to meet her. The service was late. Rush-hour traffic and the bad weather no doubt contributed to the problem. But the delay didn't entirely displease her. It gave her time to think about what she would say to Christian when she saw him.
A lump formed and wedged in her throat.
She stopped and closed her eyes, clenching a fist to her lips and pressing hard to stanch the onset of tears. What would she say to him? She had come home to face Christian, to tell him everything. With the reality of that confrontation so near at hand, she wasn't sure she had the courage. But she owed him the truth—
The glass door opened behind her. Fiona turned, expecting to see a security driver with her limousine service. She flinched, a gasp punctuating her surprise.
'Christian?' Her voice quivered.
He stood at the door, raindrops clinging to his dark hair, his face slick from the downpour. Those brooding green eyes told her all she needed to know. It had taken years of therapy to find even a semblance of joy buried deep in them. And even those moments were few. But something else lurked beneath the surface of his eyes. Resentment. It was undeniable.
'Surprised to see me?' Cynicism colored his voice. 'No more of a shocker than when I came home to find you gone, leaving me in the lurch, neck-deep in a murder investigation.'
He hit dead center. Christian never minced words. She wasn't sure she could take the strain of his hostility. And when he bridged the gap between them, stepping closer, her throat tightened. How could she justify what she'd done?
