Cody McFadyen - Shadow Man

We make our calls. Alan's relief sounds visceral. Callie meets no resistance from the locals.

"They're on their way," she says.

I don't want to say it, but I have to. "We need to do the same once they arrive. We have to get back."

She hesitates, then nods. "I know." She turns to Marilyn, biting her lower lip. "Marilyn . . . can I . . ." She laughs, shaking her head. "This is all so surreal and bizarre, honey-love. But . . . can we get together again?"

Marilyn's smile is immediate. "Of course we can. On one condition."

"What's that?" Callie asks.

"You tell me your name. I can't call you 'Agent Thorne' forever."

We are sitting in the car. Callie hasn't started it yet. She is gazing at her daughter's house. I can't decipher her expression or guess at her thoughts.

So I ask the obvious question. "How are you?"

She continues to look off before turning to me. Her face is tired, but thoughtful.

"I'm . . . fine, honey-love. I'm not just saying it to reassure you. That went better than I had ever imagined. Or hoped. But it makes me wonder."

"About?"

"What they thought I was going to lose. They said they were going to make us each lose something. But I came out ahead. Do you think that's how they meant for it to go?"

I think about this. "No," I say. "I don't. I think they were convinced that she wouldn't accept you. I also think they were convinced that it would knock you off your game fatally."

She purses her lips. "I don't know about that. I agree with the first. But I don't think they were hoping I was going to be useless as a result of this. I think they were hoping just the opposite, in fact. I'm getting a feel for this one, honey-love. They don't want to be caught. But they do want to be hunted. And they want us at our best." She looks at me, a fierce look. "And do you know what? It worked. I won't quit now until we get them. That was the whole point of this for them, you understand? To let me know that she'll never be safe until we catch them."

Her words feel right to me. Callie has insight, gets the same little epiphanies that I do. It's part of what makes her good. I say the only thing that it makes sense to say.

"Then let's catch them."

I T TAKES FOREVERto get back. It was early afternoon by the time we left, and rush hour starts early in southern California. When we arrive in the office, everyone stands up, faces filled with expectancy.

"Don't ask, honey-loves," she says, putting up a hand. "Nothing to say right now." Her cell phone rings and she turns away to answer it. That Callie curtain has been closed again. I'm relieved, and I can tell the others are as well. It means that she's going to be fine. Everyone would be there for her in an instant, but seeing Callie vulnerable is unsettling. I wonder if this is part of the reason that she closed herself off again. Not so much for herself as for us.

Alan fills the silence. "I'm going through the case file on Annie again," Alan says. "Something's bothering me. Not sure what yet."

I nod, but I'm distracted. Or perhaps just tired. I look at my watch, and I'm shocked to see that it's near the end of the day. Not that the limits of our schedule are anything but theoretical. The stakes are too high, doing what we do. I always thought this must be what it's like to be in combat. When the bullets are flying, you shoot back, whatever time it is. And if you have an opportunity to advance on the enemy, you take it, whether it's four in the morning or four in the afternoon. The other parallel is that you take advantage of times of silence, the opportunities to rest, because you don't know when they'll come again. This seems to be one of those times, so I make the decision any good general should.

"I want everyone to head home," I say. "Things may start getting crazy tomorrow. Crazier, I should say. Rest up."

James comes up to me. "I won't be in till lunch," he says, quiet. "Tomorrow's that day for me."

It takes me a moment to place what he's talking about. "Oh!" I grimace. "I'm sorry, James. I'd forgotten. Please give my best to your mom."

He turns and leaves without reply.

"I'd forgotten as well, honey-love," Callie murmurs. "Probably because it gives Damien a human side."

"Forgot what?" Leo asks.

"Tomorrow is the anniversary of the death of James's sister," I say.

"She was murdered. They go to her grave every year to pay their respects."

"Oh." His face twists into a sour grimace. "Fuck, man!"

It comes out with a passionate vehemence that startles me. He waves it off. "Sorry. I just . . . this shit is getting to me."

"Welcome to the club, honey-love." Callie's voice is not unkind.

"Yeah. I guess." He takes in a deep breath, lets it out. Runs a hand through his hair. "I'll see you guys tomorrow."

He leaves with a last, halfhearted wave. Callie looks after him, thoughtful. "First case is always hard. And this one is especially bad."

"Yeah. He'll be okay, though."

"I think so too, honey-love. I wasn't sure of him at the beginning of this, but little Leo is coming along." She turns to me. "So, what are you going to be doing tonight?"

"She's coming over for dinner, that's what," Alan rumbles. He looks at me. "Elaina insists."

"I don't know . . ."

"You should go, Smoky. It would do you good," Callie says. She gives me a meaningful look. "And it might be good for Bonnie as well."

She walks over to her desk, grabs her purse. "Besides, that's what I'm going to be doing."

"You're eating dinner at Alan's?"

"No, silly. That was my daughter on the phone." She pauses. "That sounds strange, doesn't it? Anyhoo . . . I'll be eating over there tonight with her and my--shudder at the thought--grandson."

"That's great, Callie!" I grin at her. "Or should I say--Granny?"

"Not if you want to remain a friend, honey-love," she says, airy. She heads to the door of the office, stops and looks back at me. "Go to dinner. Do something normal, with other people."

"Well?" Alan asks. "You gonna come over or get me in trouble with Elaina?"

"Oh for God's sake. Fine."

He grins at me. "Cool. I'll meet you over there."

And he and Callie are gone, and I am alone in our offices. I do plan to follow Callie's advice. The kicker for me had been the comment about Bonnie. It would be good for her. Certainly better than going straight home to my--what had he called it?-- ghost ship of a home . But I want to sit here for a moment. Things have been moving at such a breakneck speed, physically, mentally, spiritually. I am both energized and exhausted. I sum up the past days to myself. I have gone from suicidal to wanting to live. I have lost my best friend in the world. I have reacquainted myself with an even older friend, my gun. I have acquired a mute daughter, who might never recover. I have remembered killing my own daughter. I have found out that Callie has not just a daughter, but a grandson. I've discovered that a woman I love, Elaina, has cancer and might or might not be fine. I have become more familiar with the business of pornography than I ever wanted to be. Yes, the bullets have, indeed, been flying.

Right now, though, the chatter of gunfire is absent, and silence rules. Time to use that silence, like a good soldier. I get up and leave the office myself, locking the door behind me, heading down the elevator. On the way down, I realize that my silence is different from the silence of the average, everyday person. It's an opportunity to rest, true. But it's a silence filled with tension and waiting. Because you never know when the gunfire will start up again.

Are Jack Jr. and friend doing the same thing right now? Resting up before their next murder?

When Alan answers the door, I go on alert. He looks upset, enraged, fighting tears and the desire to murder at the same time.