Page 19 of Under Cover
Crosby nodded, remembering those conversations. Feeling vulnerable in the field was no good. Garcia had to know they were looking out for him.
“And don’t ask Harding for shit,” Garcia continued. “In fact, maybe have some peanuts or something to givehim, ’cause he’s as intense about a case as you are. Dude. You gotta give props to Natalia—she keeps up with that!”
“Yeah, he’s scary,” Crosby muttered, his ears on sonar, like a bat’s, to make sure Harding didn’t overhear them talking about him.
Garcia nodded and took a sip from his own coffee cup, which featured a lounging cat and the text No Fucks Given.
Crosby nodded to the cup. “There a story behind that?”
Garcia shrugged and then grinned shyly. “Man, my first week, after you went into surgery, I stayed late every night to work out, do paperwork, listen for news on you. They found me asleep in the weight room one morning and told me to chill out.”
Crosby couldn’t laugh his way past that. “You were worried about me?” he asked, something in his chest pinging.
Another one of those shrugs—all his movements were so quick Crosby enjoyed watching him. “I know it was only a day,” he said, “but it was a really good day. You were probably the best partner I’ve had. I’m sort of pissed you got shot so we don’t get to go out together for another few weeks.”
It was Crosby’s turn to give a shy smile. “Me too,” he said. He sobered. “But you’re being good to Gail, right?”
“Yeah. We mostly get interviewing witnesses. She’s pushing herself, but her leg’s still weak.”
“I’m surprised Harding hasn’t gotten more people on the roster besides the feebs,” Crosby pondered, and at that moment, Harding walked in and heard him.
“Garcia, get me coffee,” he said pleasantly, coming to sit down in Garcia’s spot.
“Hey, sir.”
“So we let you come back early,” Harding murmured. “But you can’t overdo it.”
Crosby grunted and tried not to let his eyes go to Garcia, who was filling Harding’s mug like he knew everybody’s coffee orders by rote. “Wanted to make sure you didn’t abuse little brother,” he said, trying to keep his voice light.
Harding wasn’t buying it. “Look. You were right a minute ago—we need people. I’ll be honest, I need a special sort of skill here. Not just people who run down the perp, but people who are careful about not leaving collateral damage and who are good at dealing with the other victims who are left behind. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t approve of you going after the perp without backup, but I do approve of your priority not to have another innocent person die that day.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Chadwick and Carlyle are telling me they practically have to retrain their shadows from the very beginning because those priorities aren’t necessarily the Bureau’s. You tell me where we can find someone with that same agenda built into his bones and I’ll train them myself.”
Crosby’s mind went back four weeks ago. “Sir, Officer Swan from the detail in New Jersey who was keeping Jesse and his family safe?”
“Yes?”
“He got the older brother some financial help so he didn’t lose his business because Sewell killed the people who were going to get him through the winter. And he apparently talked him into letting Kurt Armbruster stay with them because Kurt’s father was beating the shit out of him. And he even mediated when Jesse came out. I’m just saying—I don’t know his gun skills or his dossier, but if that’s who you’re looking for….”
Harding smiled, nodding. “That’s the kid I need. You sure you’re good for a couple weeks as point man from the information center until you’re back in the fray?”
“I am, sir.” He was. He and Gail had worked together often enough that he felt like he had a good handle on things.
“Then I’ll look into young Officer Swan and see if he’d like to take some tests. How’s that?”
“As long as I get to keep Garcia, sir, that’s fantastic.”
“Not Gail?”
Crosby grinned. “She’d kill me, sir. I’d call her Elsa one too many times, and that would be it. You’d have a homicide on your hands.”
Harding laughed like he was supposed to, and Crosby didn’t have to explain. He’d loved partnering with Gail before she got hurt, but Gail could take care of herself. Garcia, though, there was something vulnerable about him. Crosby didn’t want to leave him out there again without Crosby to watch his back.
Whites of Their Eyes
“YOU ONLYgot me for one more day,” Gail said brightly. “You good with that?”
Garcia grinned at her as he piloted the SUV through Pennsylvania Amish country. They’d been doing background questioning about a perpetrator who had originated there and then disappeared during hisRumspringanearly ten years ago. He’d come up on the bad side of a drug deal gone wrong, and they’d been hoping to find somebody who could help them find the guy before he hurt somebody else. All their intel said he had an addiction and a helpless yearning to go home. He hadn’t killed anybody yet; if they brought him down carefully, he might not spend the rest of his life in prison.
“Gonna miss you, Elsa,” he said, meaning it mostly. Next to Crosby, she was the best partner he’d ever had. Conscientious, tough, willing to play helpless female if it would help them get their way, but anything but helpless when shit got busy. As her leg had gotten stronger, they’d been given more active duty, and the week before she’d had his six as they were running down a perp. When they came to a six-foot fence, she actually vocalized, “Going around!” to let him know to watch his back because she couldn’t have made the climb—not yet.
