Page 20 of Oddly Fine

“Yes,” she said, with a decisive nod and tight smile. “Thank you, Carl.”

Carl led the way to the door, and Beckett quickly followed. Hayes slowly got to his feet, taking a final look at the display of data before heading for the doorway. On his way out, his gaze caught Naomie’s and he bowed his head politely.

“Hold up, Agent Monroe,” she said.

Hayes turned around and walked towards her.

“I trust Mr. Forbes. And you better believe that his glowing recommendation and your professional demeanor are the only reasons that your partner is still in my precinct. I will not be undermined by an agent. I don’t care what redneck state he popped out of. If he can’t learn to work under a woman, I’ll kick his ass right back to the boonies where he belongs!” She spoke so rapidly that Hayes barely had a chance to register what she was saying.

“Uh—” he said as looked into her eyes searchingly. Had she just—did she think—

“He’s actually Canadian—and I can assure you that Agent Thérault does not have any trouble working for a woman. He’s not—”

She held up a hand to stop him. “Spare me the excuses. Simply warn him, would you? I am not amused by insubordination nor immaturity. He is certainly not the only idiot with a gun willing to complete this mission. If he fails to cooperate, then I’ll move on to the next one in line.”

Hayes had an insane urge to laugh. It was so surreal—so goddamned ridiculous, that he could barely restrain himself. But with no small amount of effort, he refrained. First, because she’d stated precisely how she felt about insubordination. Second, because he realised for the first time that she reminded him a little of himself. Of the person he’d been only a few years ago. The one who’d looked down on Beckett with disdain and had been so arrogantly dismissive. He told her none of this, of course. There was little he could do at this point to change her mind about Beckett, so it wasn’t worth the effort to even try.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, nodding curtly and then walking out the door.

Chapter 4

Although initially wondering if they were out of their depth, Hayes and Beckett soon discovered that the task force formed by the local PD, the FBI, and the Mounties worked smoothly and efficiently. Within two hours of their arrival at the precinct, Hayes and Beckett were in position, having been smuggled inside the school during the bi-weekly delivery of groceries for the priests still in residence.

Their mission briefing had been short and to the point. They’d been assigned to the crypt, where they were to remain covertly and report any anomalies or disturbances. According to Agent Lutham, if there were any tunnels, they’d likely be on the third or fourth basement levels. Apart from their two Motorola APX 8000 portable radios and a few cameras they’d hastily installed at key points inside the crypt, Hayes and Beckett had each been issued a Glock 19M, a sleeping bag and a camping mattress.

No one knew how long they’d be on this stakeout. It was hard to tell since law enforcement had lost track of the thieves’ whereabouts, and it was entirely possible the group of bank robbers had decided to hide out for a few days before moving on to another location. In any event, Hayes didn’t really mind their being tasked with this assignment, since stakeouts were easy gigs and usually not in the least dangerous.

“You get the left side,” Beckett said, as he flapped his sleeping bag in the air, trying to get it to lie flat.

“Why?” Hayes asked, greatly amused by Beckett’s sleeping bag shenanigans.

“Because I’m not getting diddled by a dead priest in my sleep,” Beckett stated matter-of-factly, looking perfectly serious.

They’d decided to position their sleeping bags along the back wall of the crypt. There was a blind spot with no camera coverage, and it was the only wall that didn’t contain any dead bodies. On their left and right, though, numerous plaques on the walls indicated the presence of coffins.

“Those are also priests,” Hayes informed him, pointing towards the wall on the right side, closest to Beckett.

“Sure, but did you read their names?” Beckett asked, with a wave of his hand towards plaques next to where Hayes’ head would lay. “Gerald, Lester, Paul, Donald—tell me those aren’t kid-diddling names,” he said, as if that should be readily apparent to anyone.

“Is that so? What are your pillow neighbours called, then? Let’s hear it,” Hayes asked with a sardonic smile.

“Dominic, Gabriel, Michael and Benedict—my side has the freaking apostles!” Beckett bragged with an arrogant tilt to his chin.

“The apostles? Did you even pay attention in Sunday school?” Hayes sighed and shook his head while smoothing out his own sleeping bag next to Beckett’s.

“Nope!” Beckett responded without the slightest hint of shame or remorse.

“That’s right, you were too busy climbing the rafters,” Hayes taunted snidely, biting the inside of his lip to keep from laughing.

“My mom never should have told you that damned story!”

“And she shared so much more—” Hayes confessed with a smug laugh.

Beckett’s expression was a peculiar mix of amusement and mortification, which Hayes enjoyed tremendously.

“So now what?” Beckett asked, once they’d finished setting up their sleeping area.

“We wait?” Hayes sat down on his sleeping bag and stretched his legs out in front of him. He had his weapon at the ready in his lap with the safety on, his hand close enough to grab it quickly if he needed to.