Sin was more confused than ever.
“And as far as why I was there,” he continued, “my office—City Hall—is right across the street. I was heading home when I saw you ride up. By the time I managed to get across the street, you were already in the elevator. I wanted to thank you for helping the city, but I didn’t want to interrupt you, so I decided to stay downstairs and wait. I watched the entire event on the security monitor. You were quite impressive.”
“Thank you, I think,” Sin said. “Mayor Sanchez, I don’t mean to be rude, but how do you know anything of my reputation?”
Mayor Sanchez’s cell phone alerted him of a text. He read it and placed it back in his suit coat pocket. “I apologize, but we will have to finish this conversation at a later date. That was my wife. If I’m late for dinner, she will never let me hear the end of it.” He grinned. “No officer is scarier than she is.”
He shook Troy’s hand and then cupped Sin’s hand in both of his. “Thank you again, Agent O’Malley.”
“Sin, please call me Sin.”
“Very well, Sin,” he smiled, “but only if you call me Raul.”
Sin smiled back. “You better get going, Raul, you don’t want to keep your wife waiting.”
Sin and Troy watched as the mayor trotted across the street and drove away in his waiting car.
“So, Stubbs, what brings you here?”
“I had a little time so I thought I would come by and pick up the remainder of my things.”
“And here I thought you were a knight in shining armor come to rescue a damsel in distress.”
Troy was silent for a moment—he seemed awkward—and then looked down at his watch. “I better get up there before they clean out my desk. I’ll see you at seven?”
Sin stepped forward and kissed Troy on the cheek. For the first time, an uncomfortable distance existed between them. She let her hand rest on his shoulder before letting her fingers trail down his chest.
As she rode away, she knew, deep inside, that he wasn’t going to show and even deeper inside, she knew she was grateful.
9
Sin was up, out, and on the road early. As expected, Troy called around six thirty the night before to let her know that he couldn’t make it. The excuse given was that ‘the guys’ had planned to take him out, and since it was his last night, he couldn’t say no.
Riding north on Collins Avenue, Sin thought about the future or if there would even be a future for the two of them. She didn’t have much of a chance to dwell on the subject, thankfully, because before she knew it she was passing a sign that cheerily stated: “Welcome to North Miami Beach.”
Traffic thinned once she passed the entrance to the Haulover Park Marina, a popular beachfront park for boaters and beachgoers alike. As soon as the coast was clear, Sin gave the throttle one hard twist of her wrist and jetted the rest of the way to the 163rd Street Causeway. She turned west and made her way to NW 2nd Avenue—the location of the FBI’s Miami Beach field office.
Sin signed in with the security officer and was led to an empty conference room on the top floor. The room looked sterile—too empty for her comfort. The only thing in it was a small conference table, five chairs, and a whiteboard. On top of the table were two files and a small envelope with her name on it. Sin gazed at the files; one was labeled Crime Scene and the other, Coroner. Sin breathed deep and sighed as she looked about the room.
I’ve worked outside the system for so long, she thought, I don’t know if I can get used to this.
Her gaze moved from the files to the envelope. She knew who it was from before she opened it: her lifelong friend and mentor, Charlie. Two qualities of the writing gave away his identity—block lettering and her name. It was addressed to Sinclair. Charlie was the only one who ever called her by her full name.
Picking up the envelope, she sat in the chair at the head of the table. Opening it, she found an early birthday card. It brought a smile and a tear.
She had last spoken to Charlie two months ago before her last assignment. He was about to depart on what he’d called his “bucket list” journey. From the itinerary he gave her, she surmised that he should now be in the middle of the Ngorongoro Crater in Tanzania, Africa, on safari.
In the last nine months since Frank had reinstated her, Sin had been able to toss ideas off Charlie and use him as a sounding board.
Now he was traveling the world and she was on her own.
An image of Troy flashed in her head.
Totally alone.
Sin opened the card, read it, and placed it in her backpack. Her birthday was still two weeks away, but it felt good to have someone thinking of her.
She opened the file titled, “Crime Scene,” and settled back in the chair. There was nothing in the file that surprised her. Troy and Quincy had led the investigation at the beach and had subsequently told her everything they knew. Laying it down and about to pick up the other, a phone rang. It wasn’t her phone, and she didn’t see one on the table. She followed the ring and found one attached to the wall next to the whiteboard.
“Agent O’Malley speaking.”
“Sin, it’s Frank, I’m glad to see you settling in.”
“Don’t get too used to it. I’m already feeling claustrophobic.”
Frank laughed.
Never a good sign, she thought. Frank never laughs.
“Spill it, Frank.”
“Remember our conversation yesterday?”
“Do you want me to repeat it back to you word for word?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Frank said. “I
