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I chuckled. Damn, I wish he would look into it. I’d make sure he had fun negotiating the terms of my surrender.
Sadly Storm was unaware of the cozy scene inside my head and he stuck stubbornly to the topic at hand. “This Ronin case is closed. Steffane Ronin was convicted. If you’re going to have dreams you can damn well have them about the cases I gave you. Not about any damn case you choose to stick your nose into. Is that clear?”
Wow. Two damns in one breath. That must have been a record for Storm.
“Yes, boss,” I murmured, still enjoying my alternative train of thought. “But you're not exactly making the best use of my skills here. I’m drawn to what I am drawn to. You should let me loose at all those badboys. Even the ones you think you’ve already closed.”
“And have you unleash hell and undo years of hard work? I think not.”
“C’mon,” I chided. “What have you got to fear? You’re a good agent. It’s the sloppy agents who should be worried.”
“I worked this Ronin case,” he said shortly.
My eyebrows flew up. That did surprise me. There was something off about the Ronin case. I just didn’t know what it was yet. It was not like I could investigate just a vague feeling of mine, which was why it was so annoying that all the photos in the case file were missing. I liked photos — I found them easier to work with. They sometimes sparked fleeting but helpful visions. The next best thing would have been to actually speak to Ronin, but it was not like I could march into the sort of super-max prison that they held otherkind in at my leisure.
But if Storm had worked the Ronin case there couldn’t be anything wrong with it. I sighed. “So maybe some of these other cases?” I said.
“No,” he said firmly. “Stick to the ones I assigned to you. The last thing I
need is to ruffle the feathers of the other departments.”
“I don’t care about them. I didn’t think you did either.”
“It’s my job to care about them. That’s why I’m a supervisory agent and you’re…” He stopped, Probably worried about hurting my feelings.
“A mere consultant?” I filled in. “Ain’t no shame in that. I prefer being a consultant. Less red tape to tangle me up.”
“The red tape still applies whether you like it or not. And you should be worried about being a consultant. It means the Agency can fire you in a heartbeat. Is that what you really want?”
“I trust you to have my back,” I said glibly.
My attitude did not reassure him. “You’re still seeing your therapist, right?” he said suspiciously. “I missed your signed sheet last week.”
“I left it on your desk,” I told him. “And yes. I have an appointment with her shortly. The things I do to please you. Even though you know what I think about psychiatrists and their like.”
“You need someone to talk to about your… your life. It might as well be a professional.”
He was going to say about my problems. It would have irked me if I wasn’t in such a darn good mood. If Storm had half a clue what my problems really were, his straight-laced side would dump me from my job and from his life so fast that my head would spin. The man was far too into letting his head rule his heart.
“If you like them so much maybe you should be seeing one,” I told him. “If last night is anything to go by, I’m not the only one with troubles.”
“I didn’t lose my mother to a serial killer,” he said.
Those words should have stabbed at my heart. They would have just three weeks earlier. Now they bounced off my sunshiny mood like water off a duck’s back.
“How do you know you didn’t lose your mother to a serial killer too?” I asked him. “It’s not like you found out who killed your mom.”
The look on his face was thunderous. Damn, this mood of mine was going to land me in a bunch of trouble.
“Mine was a long time ago,” he said stiffly. “Yours was just two years ago, and you only buried her three months ago.”
“Three and a half if we’re counting.”
“Don’t be glib,” he said shortly. “Sometimes I think I don't know you at all.” He shook his head as if tired of me.
“We can change that if you like,” I said suggestively.
He didn’t bother to answer. He shrugged into the other arm of his jacket, and with the files tucked under his arm, he headed towards my door. On his way he paused beside my shower cubicle and raised an eyebrow. “What is this?”
