know what they used on the walls there. I just knew there was no grass and you were rich if you had an elevator in your building. And you were a billionaire if you had a doorman.”
They walked in, were told by the matronly woman at the front entrance to seat themselves, and chose a table in the far back so they could have some privacy. It really didn’t matter. At this time of the morning there were very few customers.
They ordered coffee and food from a skinny waitress in her sixties dressed in a shabby, stained uniform that might at some point in its life have been sterling white. Her face bore the searing marks of a hard life that had probably both over- and underwhelmed its owner. But to her credit, she greeted them with a smile and a cheerful, “Mornin’, y’all.”
She didn’t comment on the bruise on Pine’s forehead, or the visible stiffness of her limbs. Maybe she saw battered people come in all the time here, thought Pine.
They sipped the coffee while Laredo ran his gaze over Pine.
“How’s your head feel?”
“Why are you really here?” she snapped.
“It’s my job.”
“Bullshit. You saying you’re the only agent in BAU Four?”
“It was my turn.”
“Bullshit a second time.” She leaned forward. “Why do I think when my name floated across the request for assistance in DC, that you pushed yourself up to the front of the line?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Pine.”
“Then tell me I’m wrong, Laredo.”
He fiddled with his paper napkin, tearing it into neat triangles. She observed this. “Never got over your little rituals?”
“We all have rituals. Maybe you’re on one of yours right now.”
“I’ve haven’t been back to this place since I was a kid.”
“Maybe not physically.”
“So now you’re a shrink? I’m not even lying on a couch. I mean, come on. You can do better than that, can’t you, Eddie?”
An uncomfortably long silence passed.
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I did come down here because I saw you were involved.”
“Why would it matter to you? We said our piece and our good-byes a long time ago.”
He stopped fiddling with the napkin. “You did. I never got a chance to.”
She pointed at his ring finger. “What happened there?”
He rubbed the spot with his thumb. “Denise divorced me and took the boys. Long time ago.”
“Any particular reason?”
“Let’s see. I was never home because I was working ungodly hours. Half the time I couldn’t tell her where I was or what I was doing. The straw that broke the camel’s back was when I pulled an undercover gig and got outed, and some cartel lowlife threatened my family.”
“Were you still in DC?”
“No. Before we called it quits I finagled a transfer to New York. Back to my hometown. I thought it would be good for everybody. Fresh start.”
“And?”
“And Denise got a part-time job down on Wall Street and fell for a hedge fund manager who makes more money in a day than I’ll make in my entire life. They live in London now. And they have another place in the south of France and travel there on a private jet. She is loving life after ditching her FBI spouse.”
“I didn’t know her all that well, but Denise never struck me as being that shallow.”
Laredo balled up the pieces of napkin and set it down next to the salt shaker. “She’s not. She would have stayed with me if I was down to my last nickel, if I had an ordinary job that didn’t require me to put my neck out. The most dangerous thing her current hubby does is swing a golf club. A lot less worrying for Denise.”
“And the kids?”
“I see them a couple times a year when they come over. I get to show my kids the other side of life at my little apartment in Virginia.” The strain now showed on Laredo’s lean face. “Fact is, well, they see him as more of their father now than me. Nature of the beast, I guess. I’m like the odd uncle who drops in every once in a while for an awkward visit that everyone involved can’t wait to be over. Everyone except me,” he added quietly.
Pine dropped her gaze and with it her aggressive attitude. “I’m sorry, Eddie. That must be really tough to handle.”
He shrugged. “You-make-your-bed thing, you know.”
“Just like that?”
“If you’d like I can cry into the beer I’m probably going to order with my dinner tonight. But I prefer the stoic route. It’s in the Bureau handbook, after