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“So everything you told me about LAPD was true? You’re still a detective but you’re working for the FBI?”
“Yep. All true. Not perfect, but what the hell is? We all just do what we need to do to get through each day, right?”
Where the hell were Matt and Michael? She’d heard nothing in the house. The police scanner was on, but it was low, providing an almost comforting white noise.
Twice Marcy had glanced down the narrow hall. Was she thinking of bolting? Grabbing Hazel? Killing Jamie? Kara needed to keep Marcy talking and buy time.
“What do you want to know?”
“How’d you get the FBI to let you work for them without having to jump through all their hoops?”
“I helped Costa’s team with an investigation, they thought I did a good job, so when I had that problem in LA with an asshole who really, really wants me dead, they let me join their team.”
“And you caught Damon Avila.”
“Yeah. We did. That’s where the rest of my team is, either at headquarters waiting for his lawyer or at his house searching for additional evidence. And this is partly because of you. You’re a good cop, Marcy. I don’t want this bad relationship with Cal to ruin your career. You’re better than that.”
“I don’t care about Cal. I don’t need him.”
“See? That’s a positive attitude.”
“You’re playing me, Kara.”
“I’m the only one who cares about you,” she said. “We all make bad choices sometimes.”
Marcy laughed. “You? You’re perfect. You’re smart, you have a great career, you have the respect of everyone who works with you. You walked into the Fish & Brew and everyone there loved you, knew you by name and you’ve been in town less than a week.”
“It’s because I drink a lot of beer and tip really well.”
“No. It’s because you have an aura that draws people to you.”
She almost laughed but didn’t because Marcy believed it. And she knew what Marcy meant—Kara’s job this week had been to gather information in order to solve a horrific crime. To do that, she had to make everyone her best friend because they needed to trust her and talk to her. It was a means to an end, and it could be exhausting, but it was not unlike working undercover. You did what you needed to do to get the job done.
“Marcy, what happened last night?”
“How do you do it?” Marcy asked with another glance down the hall. Had she heard something? Sensed something?
“Do what?”
“Have everyone love you.”
“It’s not true.”
“It is. Because you’re perfect.”
“I’m not perfect, Marcy. The team shrink thinks I’m a borderline sociopath.”
Marcy stopped looking down the hall and turned to her in disbelief.
Keep her talking, keep her interested.
“She thinks I’m reckless and volatile,” Kara continued. “She has no respect for me because I didn’t go to college, shouldn’t even be on the team because I haven’t jumped through all those FBI hoops.”
“How do you work with someone like that?”
“Prove to her that she’s wrong. Marcy. Last night. What happened.”
She averted her eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”
