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menace. James folds his hands in front of him and gives Alan a cold, direct look. It’s a trait James has that I have to admire: Even though he’s only five foot seven and maybe 130 pounds soaking wet, he’s almost impossible to intimidate. Nothing seems to scare him. “It was just a question,” he replies.
    “Well, how about you drink a nice big cup of shut the fuck up?”
    I place a hand on Alan’s shoulder. “It’s okay.”
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    C O D Y M C F A D Y E N
    They glare at each other for a moment longer. It’s Alan who breaks away with a sigh. James gives me one long, appraising look, then turns back to the file he was reading.
    Alan shakes his head at me. “Sorry.”
    I smile. How can I explain to him that even this, those Damien ways, is somehow a right thing right now? It is something that is still “the way things used to be.” James still pisses me off, and this is a comfort. I decide to change the subject. “So what’s new around here?”
    I walk all the way into the office, scanning the desks and the corkboards. Callie has been running things while I’ve been gone, and she takes the lead in responding.
    “It’s been quiet for us, honey-love.” Callie calls everyone honey-love. As legend goes, she has an actual written reprimand on file for calling the Director honey-love. It’s a complete affectation, taken on to amuse herself. Callie isn’t Southern in the slightest. It annoys some people to no end; to me it’s just Callie. “Nothing serial, two abductions. We’ve been working on some of the older, colder cases.” She smiles. “Guess all the bad guys went on vacation with you.”
    “How did the abductions turn out?” Child kidnappings are part of the butter on our bread, and are something dreaded by all decent men and women in law enforcement. They are rarely about money. They are about sex and pain and death.
    “One recovered alive, one recovered dead.”
    I stare at the corkboards, not really seeing them. “At least both were recovered,” I murmur. Far too often, this is not the case. Anyone who thinks no news is good news has never been the parent of a kidnapped child. In this case, no news is a cancer that does not kill but instead hollows out the soul. I have had parents coming to see me over the years, hopeful for news of their child, news I didn’t have. I have watched them get thinner, more bitter. Seen hope die in their eyes, and gray hairs cover their heads. In those cases, finding the body of their child would be a blessing. It would at least let them grieve with certainty. I turn to Callie. “So how do you like being the boss?”
    She gives me a patented, pretend-haughty Callie smile. “You know me, honey-love. I was born to be royalty, and now I have the crown.”
    Alan snorts at this, followed by an actual guffaw.
    “Don’t listen to this peasant, dear,” Callie says with disdain. S H A D O W M A N
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    I laugh, and it’s a good laugh. A real one that catches you by surprise the way a laugh ought to. But then it continues a little longer than it should, and I’m horrified to feel tears welling up in my eyes.
    “Oh, shit,” I mumble, wiping my face. “Sorry about that.” I look up at them and give them both a weak smile. “It’s just really good to see you guys. More than you know.”
    Alan, the man-mountain, moves to me, and without warning, wraps me in those tree-trunk arms. I resist for only a moment before hugging him back, my head against his chest.
    “Oh, we know, Smoky,” he says. “We know.”
    He lets me go, and Callie steps forward, pushing him aside.
    “Enough touchy-feely,” she snaps. She turns her head to me. “Let me take you to lunch. And don’t bother trying to say no.”
    I feel tears coming again, and all I can manage is a nod. Callie grabs her purse, then grabs my arm, and hustles me toward the door. “Be back in an hour,” she calls over her shoulder. She shoves me out the door, and once it closes, the tears begin to flow freely.