"Don't believe all the rumors you hear, Fox."
"If I believed them all, I wouldn't let you step foot in my city, Blake."
Micah touched my leg, just to be comforting, while he drove one-handed. We were already on 70, which meant we'd be at the airport in moments.
"You know, Fox, if you're this unhappy with me, we can turn around and not come. Raise your own damn zombie."
"We?"
"I'm bringing an assistant," I said, voice angry.
"And exactly what does he assist you with?" And his voice was full of that tone, that tone that men have been using against women for centuries. That tone that manages to imply we're sluts without ever saying so.
"I'm going to be very clear here, Special Agent Fox." My voice held that calm, cold anger that I used in place of screaming. Micah's hand tightened on my thigh. "Your attitude makes me think we won't be able to work together. That you've listened to so many rumors that you wouldn't know truth if it bit you on the ass."
He started to say something, but I cut him off.
"Think very carefully about the next thing you say, Special Agent Fox, because depending on what it is, I may or may not be seeing you in Philly today, or ever."
"Are you saying if I don't play nice, you won't play at all?" His voice was as cold as mine had been.
"Nice, hell. Fox, I'd just take professional at this point. What has got your panties in a twist about me?"
He sighed over the phone. "I researched the federal marshals who are also animators. It's a short list."
"Yeah," I said, "it is."
"Kirkland comes in, does the job, leaves. Every time you get involved in a case, it all seems to go to hell."
I took a deep breath and counted to twenty. Ten didn't do it. "Go back through and look at the kind of cases that I get called in on, Fox. No one calls me in unless things have already gone south. It's not cause and effect."
"You have worked some rough shit. I'll grant that, Marshal Blake." He sighed again. "But you've got a reputation for killing first and asking questions later. As for rumors, you're right--they don't paint a very flattering picture of you."
"You might bear in mind, Fox, that any man you've heard dirty stories about me from didn't get to f**k me."
"You're sure of that."
"Absolutely."
"So you're saying that it's sour grapes, because he didn't get the prize."
"So we are talking about someone specific. Who?"
He was quiet for a second or two. "You worked a serial killer case in New Mexico about two years ago. Do you remember it?"
"Anyone who worked that case will remember it, Agent Fox. Special Agent Fox. Some things you don't forget."
"Did you date anyone while you were out there?"
The question puzzled me. "You mean in New Mexico?"
"Yes."
"No, why?"
"There was a cop named Ramirez."
"I remember Detective Ramirez. He asked me out, I said no, and he didn't trash me."