CHAPTER THIRTY
Kate arrived at the field office just after nine the next morning.
After she and Allen had figured out an agreeable way to split up their work days, she had driven straight there, wanting to debrief with DeMarco while everything was still fresh.
The case had wrapped late last night with Jennifer Grisham in custody and Mary Latrobe stable in the ICU.
Three women were dead, but at least they'd stopped the killer before she could claim a fourth victim. In all reality, Sloane’s actions had saved a woman’s life…
though she refused to accept such accolades.
The building was busy with agents moving between offices and conference rooms. Kate signed in at security and took the elevator up to DeMarco's office. The sense of strangeness in the building, now that she came here much less, wasn’t as stark as it had been three days ago, but she still felt she was more of a visitor than a regular.
DeMarco's door was open when Kate got to the office. She was at her desk reviewing something on her laptop, her expression focused. Kate knocked on the doorframe and DeMarco looked up, her face breaking into a smile.
"Kate! Come in." DeMarco gestured to the chair across from her desk. "I was hoping you'd stop by this morning."
Kate sat down and set her bag on the floor. "Well, I figured I’d give you my assessment while it's all still fresh. I mean, I’m not technically a field agent anymore, so I certainly hope you don’t expect me to write a report on the Grisham case."
“Nope, you’re off the hook. Sloane already emailed me; she says she’ll have it to me by the end of the day. And I’m fine with that.” She leaned forward and asked, “So, how did it go with her?"
Kate considered her words carefully. She'd worked with the young agent for two intense days, and she had proven herself capable in every way that mattered. But there were aspects of her approach that needed refinement. Kate had to be honest, no matter how judgmental it sounded.
"She's gifted," Kate said. "Really talented investigator. Sharp instincts, good tactical thinking. She saved Mary Latrobe's life yesterday by moving fast and not hesitating when it counted."
"But?" DeMarco leaned back in her chair, reading between the lines.
"But she's blunt to the point of being abrasive sometimes.
When things get tense, she shuts down emotionally.
It's like she puts up walls and just powers through without acknowledging what anyone else in the room might be feeling.
" Kate paused. "It works for her, mostly.
But it can make interviews harder than they need to be.
Witnesses respond better when they feel heard. "
DeMarco nodded slowly. "I've noticed that too. She's never been great with the softer skills."
"She'll get there," Kate said. "She's young. I was probably just as rough around the edges at her age. I saw some of this register with her last night while we were tending to Mary Latrobe while waiting for the ambulance."
"I doubt that." DeMarco smiled. "But I appreciate the honest assessment. Anything else I should know?"
"She handles stress well. She doesn't panic, doesn't freeze. During her fight with Grisham there were two shots fired and Sloane didn’t once return fire. She took control of the situation without deadly measures. That's not something you can teach."
"Good to know." DeMarco closed her laptop. "And how was it for you? Being back in the field?"
Kate thought about that. The long hours, the adrenaline, the satisfaction of solving the puzzle.
She'd missed it more than she wanted to admit.
But she'd also been acutely aware the entire time of what she was missing at home.
Michael's bedtime routine. Morning coffee with Allen.
The simple domestic rhythms that had become the foundation of her life.
"It was good," Kate said honestly. "But it was also the last reminder I needed that I am officially done with that part of it all."
"Fair enough." DeMarco stood and came around the desk. "Thanks for doing this. I know consulting wasn't really part of your retirement plan."
"Sometimes plans change." Kate stood as well. "We should get lunch soon. Catch up properly when there isn't a case hanging over everything."
"I'd like that. I'll text you some dates."
They hugged briefly, the kind of quick embrace that acknowledged friendship without getting maudlin about it. She was also aware that DeMarco was trying her best to come off as a bit of a hard-ass… and hugging an old partner wasn’t exactly in line with that look.
She left DeMarco's office and walked through the maze of cubicles and workstations that filled the third floor. She found Sloane at her desk in the corner, typing something on her laptop. The younger agent looked tired but satisfied, the kind of exhaustion that came from closing a difficult case.
"Got a minute?" Kate asked.
Sloane looked up and gestured to the empty chair beside her desk. "Sure."
Kate sat down, noting the organized chaos of Sloane's workspace.
Files were stacked neatly, sticky notes covered one side of her monitor with case details and reminders.
A coffee mug sat beside her keyboard with the FBI seal on it.
Everything about the space suggested someone who took the work seriously.
"I wanted to tell you what a great job you did yesterday," Kate said. "You saved Mary Latrobe's life. I know I said it multiple times last night but I figured you should hear it again… now that all the smoke has cleared."
"Just doing my job." Sloane's tone was matter-of-fact, no false modesty but no grandstanding either.
"You did it well. Moving fast when, going in alone when backup wasn't there yet because you felt you had to… and then disarming an armed woman without firing. Those were good calls. Damned good work, Sloane."
Sloane nodded, accepting the compliment without deflecting it. "It was nice working with someone who's been doing this for a while. You see things I miss. Different perspective."
"You'll develop that perspective with time."
"Maybe." Sloane leaned back in her chair. "Anyway, if you ever want to consult on another case, I wouldn't be opposed. It's helpful having someone around who knows what they're doing."
Kate smiled at the casual way Sloane delivered the compliment. No flowery language, no emotional speeches. Just a straightforward acknowledgment that working together had been productive.
"I'll keep that in mind," Kate said. "Though I'm trying to stay out of the field these days."
"You don’t think you’ll miss it?”
Thinking of Allen and Michael and the peace and quiet of home, she shook her head and answered, “No. Anyway… you…take care of yourself. And maybe work on your bedside manner with witnesses. People tend to open up more if you give them some space to feel things."
"I'll consider it." Sloane's expression suggested she probably wouldn't, but Kate appreciated that she didn't argue the point.
They said goodbye and Kate made her way back through the building. The morning sun was bright through the windows, and the parking lot was filling up with agents arriving for their shifts. Kate found her car and sat in the driver's seat for a moment before starting the engine.
Her phone had three messages. One from Allen asking what he wanted to do for dinner. One from Melissa checking in about dinner plans for the weekend. One from the Portland office about a follow-up on an interview she’d been looking over for that particular case.
This, she knew, was now her normal life. And even knowing that those occasional consulting gigs would fall away, she was fine with it.
Kate used the short drive home to decompress, letting the tension of the past few days slowly drain away.
Three women were dead and a fourth had barely survived, all because Jennifer Grisham couldn't handle watching her success fade.
It was senseless and tragic, and Kate knew she'd carry those images with her for the rest of her life.
When she pulled into her driveway, Allen was outside with Michael.
They were working in the garden, or rather Allen was working and Michael was mostly digging holes and moving dirt from one place to another.
Michael saw her car and came running, his hands covered in dirt.
And of course, he was clutching one of his toy trucks, which was also caked in dirt.
Kate got out and caught him before he could climb her legs with dirty hands. "Hey buddy. What are you doing out here?"
"Helping Daddy garden." Michael pointed back at Allen, who was watching them with a smile.
"I can see that." Kate looked at Allen.
She walked over to Allen and looked down the garden to see where she could pitch in. "How'd it go at the office?" he asked her.
"Fine. Gave my report, said goodbye to Sloane."
"And now you're home."
"Now I'm home… and I guess I’m about to get my hands dirty.”
They worked together on the garden for about twenty more minutes and then went inside together.
Kate cleaned Michael up while Allen made lunch.
They ate on the back deck, watching birds fight over the feeder and talking about nothing important.
Allen told her about a call he'd gotten from a former client asking for consulting work.
Michael showed her a rock he'd found that he insisted was special even though it looked like every other rock in the yard.
After lunch, Kate put Michael down for his nap and found herself standing in the doorway of her office. The desk was still covered with research materials for her memoirs. Files from old cases, newspaper clippings, her own handwritten notes about investigations she'd worked over three decades.
The past was there, waiting for her to document it. But the present was calling louder right now. Michael would only be three years old for a few more months. Melissa was planning a birthday party for Michelle that she'd asked Kate to help with. Life moved on, here in the present.
The memoirs could wait. The past would still be there when she was ready to revisit it. Right now, she had everything she needed in this house, in this moment, with the people she loved most.
Kate closed the office door and went to find Allen. They had the afternoon together, no cases to solve, no killers to catch. Just time, simple and unhurried, exactly the way she wanted it.
Exactly the way they deserved it.