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Cal saw she was grinning. Good, she was staring to unwind a bit, like his uncle Mort’s antique watch. “Lay me flat, maybe knock me in the head a couple of times, then he’d try to take over the case.”
Kelly realized he wasn’t going to stop trying to distract her. She also realized it was working. She said, “He’s a good guy, isn’t he?”
Cal nodded. “The best. He and Sherlock have already spoken half a dozen times today. Now they’ll talk about the press conference and she’ll try to calm him down about sticking her middle finger in the Strategist’s eye in front of the world.”
“If it were my husband who’d done that, I’d be upset, too.”
“He’ll deal with it, no choice. Both of them are sometimes in harm’s way.” Cal shrugged. “You either deal with it or the marriage doesn’t last.”
Kelly wondered if Cal had had a marriage go south on him, but now wasn’t the time to ask him. She’d keep it light, like he had. “I still can’t get over a married couple working together in the FBI. Savich has quite a rep.” She paused, shook her head. “But now it’s Sherlock in the spotlight, not Savich. There’s one thing I couldn’t deal with, though, if I was wearing her boots.”
“What’s that?”
She laughed. “The obvious. She has to report to him, right? He’s her boss?”
“Sherlock calls him the Big Dog. We all report to someone, so what’s wrong with her reporting to him? After all, Savich is the one who started the Criminal Apprehension Unit.”
“But what if they have an argument? How would you like to have to follow orders from the love of your life when you felt like smacking him on the head?”
“Savich says as long as she does what he tells her to at work, he’s willing to pay for it at home.” Cal gave her a fat grin. “Then he rolls his eyes.”
As he did every few seconds, Cal automatically checked on Sherlock. She was still talking on the phone. She’d moved to stand directly beneath the arched hallway, in plain view. He looked back at Kelly. Despite the smiles he’d gotten out of her, she still looked bruised somehow, in spite of all the kudos for a job well done, in spite of the success of the press conference. So much had happened in such a short time. She had lost Nasim, and that had been a big blow for her, even though it was Nasim himself who’d led the killer to them. She wasn’t used to losing, he thought, at anything. “How’d you get started in the FBI, Kelly?’
She took another bite of her caprese. “Not a big mystery. I’m third-generation law enforcement. The first Fed, though, much as it burned my granddad. He’s retired now, but my dad’s still a homicide detective in the Albuquerque PD, tells me he better not hear me bigfooting any local police.”
“And your mom, who makes the great pizza?”
“My mom’s the high achiever. She’s chief of staff in Governor Turnbull’s office in Santa Fe. No doubt in my mind that one of these days, she’ll be governor.”
“What does she think of your being a federal cop?”
“She’d like it if I were Director Giusti by the time I’m forty. She pushes me more than my brother, James, probably because I’m a woman. Pretty soon she’s going to see I’m not cooperating.”
“Your brother’s FBI, too?”
“No, James is a priest. He laughs at her when she tells him he’d make an excellent cardinal. After all, he speaks Italian fluently, doesn’t he? My mom never gives up. What about you, Cal? Why’d you sign up?”
“Unlike you, it had nothing to do with having cop in the blood. I was in high school when Nine-Eleven happened, already accepted into MIT. That day changed my life. I never looked back.”
“Did you lose a relative? A friend?”
“No, nothing like that. I simply realized on that day what lengths terrorists would go to try to wipe us from the face of the earth. I wanted to help stop them.”
“How long have you been in the counterterrorism unit?”
“I started there when I was nearly twenty-five, seven years now.” He looked over to check on Sherlock, who hadn’t moved, then back at her. “It’s where I belong, where my talents lie. This terrorist operation—Bella—it’s got me in overdrive, just like you. Thanks for letting me in, Kelly.”
She tapped her fingertips on the table. “I took one look at you and wanted to boot you back to Washington. I’ve got to say, though, you’ve been pretty useful—well, so far.”
