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The next half hour was not going to be fun. Then again, at least she knew who’d be walking through that door in—she glanced at her watch, aware that Derek was always punctual—precisely three minutes. He, on the other hand, was about to be coldcocked.
She’d called in a favor from Tony Sanchez, who’d mentored her during her hostage negotiation training in Quantico. He’d been kind enough to set things up, no questions asked, even when she requested that her name be withheld during the orchestration of the meeting.
Maybe he knew about the history between her and Derek. Maybe not.
Her bottle of water hit a tender spot in the curve between her thumb and forefinger, and Sloane winced at the contact. She used her left hand to set the bottle on the table and cap it, grimacing as the throbbing in her right hand continued. It wasn’t just the injury. The scars themselves were really bothering her today. Her physical-therapy session this afternoon was going to hurt like hell.
She began performing some simple pain-relief exercises, bending and straightening her fingers, then stretching them to relax the muscles.
The conference room door blew open, and Derek strode into the room. He had a file folder tucked under his arm, and that same cocky walk Sloane remembered all too well. It had been thirteen months, but one quick glance told her he hadn’t changed—at least not intrinsically. The surface was another matter entirely. His dark hair was longer than before and his attire was a one-eighty. Derek had always been a suit-and-tie kind of guy. Now he was wearing jeans and a navy T-shirt. Sloane couldn’t help but do a slight double take on that one.
Even without knowing who he was about to cross paths with, he clearly didn’t want to be here. His
entire body language told her that.
It got worse. His probing stare found her, and his midnight-blue gaze went from brooding to glacial.
“Sloane.” He said her name as if seeking confirmation that this wasn’t really happening.
“Hello, Derek.” Sloane had rehearsed her opening. No physical contact. Not even a handshake. No proximity. She stayed where she was, letting the table act as a barrier between them. “Right on time, as always. Excellent. I appreciate your taking this meeting. I see you printed out file information. That’ll give me a jump start. Shall we begin?” She gestured for him to take a seat.
“You’re the Trumans’ consultant?” he demanded.
“Guilty as charged.”
“And you asked Tony not to mention that.”
Clearly, he wasn’t going to make this easy.
“Guilty again. I couldn’t risk your refusing to come. So I asked Tony not to mention my name.”
“Obviously nothing’s changed. You’re still a coward.”
“And you’re still a judgmental hard-ass. Adhering to a new dress code, I see. But otherwise the same.”
“The dress code’s part of the job. You can’t blend into the gang world wearing a suit.”
“Point taken. And, hey, the jeans and T-shirt are as crisp and wrinkle-free as your suits. Different uniform, same Army Ranger.”
“Ditto for the Manhattan A.D.A.,” Derek countered, referring to her pre-FBI days as a New York City prosecutor.
“Touché.” Sloane acknowledged his dig with a tight nod. “Now that we’ve gotten the cutting remarks out of the way, can we talk about Penny Truman?”
“Why? Do you have a new lead?”
“I won’t know until you run through your case file with me.”
“I’m sure you already have all the facts. And unless you’ve become psychic, there’s nothing for you to find. I realize the Trumans are desperate for answers, and that they have the money to pay an outside consultant to find them. But you’re wasting your time. I covered all the bases, and then some.”
Sloane gripped the back of her chair and leveled a hard stare at Derek. “Leave your ego at the door, Derek. This isn’t about your skills as an agent. Yes, the Trumans are desperate. But they didn’t just call me because I’m good and because I can devote more time and resources to their case than the Bureau can. They called me for personal reasons. Penny and I were once close friends. We went through school together. I had no idea she was missing until her mother called me last week. If you need to justify my involvement in the case, use that. Spin it any way you want to. All I want is to find Penny.”
The tension in Derek’s jaw slackened a bit. “I wasn’t aware of any of this. Fine. Have a seat.”
Simultaneously, they pulled out chairs and sat down, facing each other across the table.
“Why didn’t the Trumans mention you when I questioned them?” Derek asked.
“Because Penny and I hadn’t been in touch for a while.” Sloane filled him in on the background of their friendship. “But I did know her—well. And there’s no way she’d just take off like that, not because of a job, not because of a guy. She’s either being held against her will, or dead.”
