Silver Justice

Chapter 9

Silver walked out of the bank almost in tears. The loan officer had been understanding and supportive, but ultimately couldn’t help her. With the debt she was carrying on her credit cards, along with the tuition for Kennedy’s private school and the cost of daycare and all the rest, there simply hadn’t been sufficient income left over to make a decent-sized loan even with the flat as collateral. She’d suspected as much, but to have the door slammed in her face when she needed it the most still threw her.

She stood on the sidewalk, taking deep breaths, trying to slow her heartbeat. What was she going to do now?

Her thoughts turned to her mother. That was out of the question. Since her father had passed away three years ago her mom had been comfortably ensconced in a condo she’d purchased in Austin, Texas, where she was taking art classes and trying to make a life for herself in her late sixties. Although her mom would do whatever she could to help, she didn’t have much — she’d sold the house shortly after the funeral and used the profit from it to buy the condo and subsidize her social security and her pension. She needed every penny she had and was working a part-time job in a bookstore to make ends meet more comfortably.

There was no way Silver could lean on her.

After a few minutes of thought, she took her cell phone from her purse and called Ben. He took her call immediately and assured her he would set aside time for her in twenty minutes.

It was midday, and the lunch rush was over, although there were still plenty of people clogging the sidewalks. New York was a chaotic tangle of crowds wherever you went — she’d gotten used to it after living in the city for over a decade. At times it was energizing, but today it was only annoying as her mind raced over possible solutions to her problem.

She rounded a corner and checked the time as she made her way to Ben’s towering edifice — one of the more sumptuous in the area. Being a divorce attorney in the city clearly paid well. He was one of the top dogs in his game, highly recommended and well thought of, so he was never hurting for business. Which gave her hope. Perhaps there was an accommodation she could make with him to carry part of the case costs. She knew he wasn’t a bank and that it was asking a lot, but she wasn’t sure where else she could turn.

Silver waited in the cool air conditioning of the law offices, flushed from making her way uptown in so little time. Surprisingly, Ben was immediately available, and Silver followed his severely-coiffed secretary to the rear conference room.

Ben rose from his chair to greet her when she entered. “Silver. Good to see you. A nice surprise,” he said as he shook her hand. “What brings you to my neck of the woods on a work day? Am I a suspect for something?” he joked.

“Thankfully, no. They haven’t caught on to you yet. But it’s coming,” Silver fired back.

“Good. Then my evil plan is working. Nobody is any the wiser.”

“Your secret’s safe with me. Always.”

“Good to know, Silver. Now seriously. What’s up?”

“I’m worried about the money, Ben. How are the expenses running on the case, and what are they looking like they’ll add up to by the time you’re done?”

“I don’t honestly know. At this point it’s all on a spreadsheet. We’ll send you a monthly statement showing the drawdown and balance remaining. Why? Do I need to call someone to get you a total right now?”

“If you could, I’d appreciate it. I’m especially interested in what you think it’s going to cost to get it to the finish line.”

Ben paused, eyeing her thoughtfully. “What happened, Silver?”

She was holding it together well, but then her resolve failed her, and she could feel her eyes brimming over. A single droplet fell, tickling the contour of her cheek before settling in the corner of her mouth.

Without saying anything, Ben slid a Kleenex box across the table to her. She plucked out a tissue and blotted her lids, hating her own weakness, but unable to stop the tears.

“It’s been one of those days, Ben. I’ve been trying everything to come up with a way to fund this fight, but I just came from the bank, and they declined my loan.” She went on to tell him everything, feeling better as the story came spilling out.

Ben leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, peering thoughtfully at the ceiling. “I can probably absorb some of the costs, but I’d be lying if I said I could do it all. My partners would never allow it. I’m sorry, Silver. As to your inquiry, I think even if I bit off, say, twenty-five grand and held it in-house, you would still burn at least another fifty to a hundred. The investigators, the paralegals, responding to the filings, making motions, hiring expert witnesses…victory usually goes to the best-funded army, I’m afraid. The fairy tale of the lawyer working out of his briefcase taking on the system and winning is just that. You don’t want to go into this without enough money to see it through, Silver. You’re fighting for your family here, and Eric is throwing the kitchen sink at this. I only know one way to fight that fire, and it’s with fire.”

She nodded. That was what she had expected. “If I have to take you up on the matching twenty-five, how far will that take us?”

“Not that far. I’ll need to look at the numbers, but the investigators are burning money like they’re the pentagon, and we’re going to have to get Kennedy in front of some doctors soon so they can certify that she’s doing well. Nobody works for free, as you know…my hunch is that we’ll be through your retainer within another three weeks, tops. I meant what I said — I can carry another twenty-five, so let’s say that buys you another six weeks. You’re going to be in real trouble within two months, Silver. That’s your timeline.”

That bought her a month more than she’d had when she walked through the doors today. It wasn’t a reprieve, but it was better than nothing.

“Silver, I don’t want to meddle, but have you considered selling the flat? Or maybe you can do some sort of creative financing deal on it? An interest only loan for a year or two? To get you past this point?”

“I can’t rack up a lot of debt I can’t pay back, Ben. And frankly, I don’t know who to approach to do something creative, as you call it. I’m buried with work, and I really thought that the bank would be able to do something. I mean, even in this market it has to be worth at least seven or eight hundred thousand. You would think they would jump at the chance to lend me a hundred or so against it.”

“Banks aren’t lending money these days, as you’ve discovered. They’re hoarding cash. Tell you what, Silver. Let me make a few calls. I know people who specialize in these sorts of things. I have one in mind who might be able to put together a decent package you could afford for a year, and then you can cross the sale bridge when you come to it. If you prevail in this, I can go after Eric for restitution given that this is imposing a hardship on you, so you could pay it back then — and if you don’t prevail, well…”

“…then Kennedy won’t have to worry about having a roof over her head, and I can sell the place and move somewhere more in keeping with my new lifestyle.” She took a deep breath. “I hate this, Ben. I hate Eric, I hate the system that allows this, and I hate the universe at the moment.”

“You’re within your rights to hate everyone, Silver. It stinks.”

“At least I don’t hate you.” She gave him a tentative smile.

“I have that going for me.” Ben looked at the clock on the heavy wooden bookcase at the far end of the room. “I’ll put out the word and see what I can do, Silver. And I’ll have my bookkeeper send you an updated statement via e-mail, unless you can wait for it for a few minutes.”

“No rush. I almost don’t want to know. E-mail will be fine, Ben. Just fine.”

Silver was on her computer studying the forensics report on the latest killing when her line rang. She glanced at the number and saw it was Monique at the front desk.

“Hi, sweetie. I have a Glenn from the Herald on line two. Asked for you.”

“The Herald? Did he say what he wanted?”

“No, just wanted to speak to you. I didn’t interrogate him, though. Want me to? I could play bad cop…”

“You aren’t a cop, Monique. Okay, put him through.”

Music on hold intruded for a moment, the line beeped, and a man’s voice came on.

“Hello? Special Agent Cassidy?”

“Speaking. How can I help you?”

“Agent Cassidy, I’m doing a follow-up to our series of reports on The Regulator, and I wanted to see if the Bureau had anything to add. Briefly, I’m stating that you are running a task force focused on his apprehension and that so far you have no leads to speak of. Would that be correct?”

Silver didn’t like the way this was starting at all. “Who am I speaking with?”

“Oh, sorry. I’m Glenn Wexler with the Herald. I’ve written the series so far. Maybe you’ve seen my byline?”

“No, can’t say the name is familiar. How did you get this number and my name?”

“Your agents came by to look at the computers, and one of them gave me your name.”

“I see. Mind if I ask who?” Silver tried to remember who had gone over to the Herald, and then recalled it was Simkins, and…Sam.

“I’m not sure I remember. I don’t think I took any notes.”

Of course not. She suspected he could recite their badge numbers if it would save his skin, but when she wanted info, memory always seemed to elude the media.

“Well, I would direct you to our press office. I have no comment.” Silver knew better than to dole out any information to a reporter who was fishing.

“I was hoping for something more than a two-day wait for the press flunky to tell me that he can’t confirm or deny anything…”

“I’m quite sure you were, Mr. Wexler. But that’s protocol. I’m sorry I can’t help you, but that’s the way we do things.”

“Fair enough, but I’m still going to be writing the article based on information I’ve been able to glean. It’s a free country,” Glenn said, sounding annoyed.

“Yes, it is free, and if you want to write an article that basically says nothing, you just described it. I’m sure it will sell a lot of papers. Good luck with that.”

She disconnected, wondering why she’d gotten the call at all. It sounded like someone on the task force was talking out of turn to the press. Either that or he was bluffing and had used her name and rank as entre to attempt to get some info. But she’d been around the block enough times to know that reporters were rarely her friend when running an investigation. Three other papers besides the Herald had received the photos from the killer. All three had contacted the FBI immediately. Only the Herald had chosen to print them, which figured. The others were more upscale rags, whereas the Herald was sensationalistic and played gutter ball.

There was no way in hell she was giving them anything more than they already had, which was nothing by the sound of it. The reporter was just trying to find another angle to milk. Articles that said, ‘Police still looking for killer’ didn’t sell papers, so the fact that he was calling told her everything she needed to know. The press office had already said there was a task force focusing on the killer, so that wasn’t news.

Silver hit the intercom button and punched in three digits. A male voice came on the line.

“Sam. Could you please come to my office for a second?”

Sam hesitated before answering, and when he did, he sounded impatient. “Uh, sure. I’m not doing much besides sorting through hundreds of images of pedestrians. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

He was becoming a problem. The tone, the attitude — she’d given him as much latitude as she intended to.

Another in a long series of unpleasant tasks. Just her luck. When it rained…

Sam sauntered in five minutes later with an expression of mild annoyance. Silver stood and gestured to a pair of chairs in front of her desk. Sam sat and gave her a quizzical look.

“I just got a call from a reporter at the Herald. He knew my name and that I was running the task force. Any idea how he came by that information?”

Sam’s face went blank, which she knew from working with him meant he was considering lying. His eyes always gave him away — a dart to the right, just for a second, even though he’d obviously practiced his poker face. She would have been able to beat him every time if they had been playing for money. Maybe if all else failed that was an option for funding Ben.

“Damn. I’m sorry. He must have heard your name when we were at the Herald offices. I might have mentioned it, or Simkins could have. I honestly don’t remember. But that’s the only thing I can think of.”

Completely non-disprovable and appeared to be taking the blame for both of them. Sam would do well in politics, she decided. Very polished.

“Hmm. I can see where that could happen. Listen, Sam, since I have you here, I want to get something else out in the open. I’ve been noticing that you seem to have a problem with many of my decisions lately. That’s coming out in your tone as well as our interactions. What’s that about?”

Sam shrugged. “We aren’t always going to agree on everything.”

“See? That’s what I mean. Your demeanor is flippant and disrespectful. No, let me finish.” She held up her hand so he wouldn’t interrupt — she could see that he was going to argue. “Sam, I don’t want a bunch of automatons on my team. I don’t need a group of yes-men. But I do expect respect, just as I treat everyone else with it. I don’t have to explain myself or put up with any thinly veiled, snarky bullshit. If you can’t get your attitude back in line, I’ll transfer you elsewhere — do I make myself clear? If you have a personal problem with me, then let’s hear it, because otherwise I expect you to get your act together and start behaving like a professional.” Silver was using her mommy tone automatically, and Sam had stiffened as she spoke.

“I…I’m sorry, Silver. I didn’t realize I was pushing the limits. I…”

“Sam. You’re a talented agent. I understand you may think you know a better way to do things than I do. And I don’t mind hearing about it. What I’m telling you is that your attitude needs adjusting. I don’t want to make this into a huge deal, but over the last few weeks you’ve become increasingly adversarial. So consider this fair warning. I don’t want to get into it with you, but if I have to make a formal request to get you off this team, I will. I think we would both be poorer for that so I’m approaching you unofficially. We have a killer who’s out there planning another murder, and we need to work together or he’s going to keep killing. Am I clear?”

Sam looked shaken. He’d obviously believed he could keep needling her and get away with it. She knew his type. The Bureau was full of them. Men who resented working for a woman, or who believed that they could do things better. She’d dealt with that attitude throughout her training and career, so she recognized it a mile away. She just wasn’t going to tolerate it on her task force.

“I…I get it. Again, it wasn’t intentional.”

Of course it was intentional. If she’d been a male supervisor, he wouldn’t have dared to pull these stunts.

None of which she said. The message had been delivered, and hopefully, received. It was actually harder to transfer an agent than she’d made it seem — there would be messy interviews, and she would be suspect for having been too sensitive or judgmental. She knew how things worked. She would be on the defensive because the system would assume that she had over-reacted and couldn’t handle a little criticism or healthy dissention.

Sam stood and Silver nodded. The meeting was at an end.

“One more thing. How’s the traffic cam study coming? That’s about all we have in terms of promising leads. It’s one of the reasons I gave it to you — I need it done thoroughly and correctly the first time.” It wouldn’t hurt to praise him a little now. A slap on the face followed by a pat on the head usually worked wonders.

“It’s going well. I’m hopeful we have it finished within twenty-four hours. The facial recognition software is next, but it can be buggy. I’m going over every match personally. There are a lot of them. It’s a busy area.”

“Let’s hope we get a hit. Thanks for putting in the time, Sam.” She studied him. “Are we good?”

He shrugged again, but this time with no attitude. “Sure. No problem.”

Sam opened the door and went back to his area. Silver groaned; she hated that kind of confrontation, but it had to be done.

Returning to the reporter’s call, she logged the discussion and typed in a few quick notes, then picked up a stack of paperwork from her inbox that she’d been delaying dealing with.

Silver took a sip of water and put the call and her run-in with Sam out of her head, trying to focus on the job at hand. It was hard after her meeting with Ben. She looked at the wall clock and noted that she had four hours of work to fit into another two hours.

It was going to be a frantic afternoon.

Richard ducked his head into Silver’s office at just before five o’clock and asked if she was doing anything. She waved at the paperwork covering her desk and offered a wan smile.

“Nothing more than usual. What’s up?”

“I’ve spent more time on the partner, and it looks like he’s quite a character. Sits on the board of a number of technology companies, all of which have something to do with the brokerage industry. It’s amazing to me how plugged-in he is to big names — I mean, I’ve never heard of him, and yet he’s peripherally associated with just about everyone who matters in the clearance and settlement system on Wall Street.” He entered her office and sat down at her conference table with his iPad.

“The what?” Silver rounded her desk and sat across from him.

“It’s the plumbing that makes everything work. The back office, where all the accounting takes place. Everywhere you look the victim and his partner show up.”

“But that’s their business, right? Is it really so surprising?”

“Yes, it kind of is. Think about it logically. The markets are vast, and tens of thousands of people work in the industry — maybe more, for all I know, if you take all the peripheral functions. To have two guys so connected to everything that has to do with one area is unusual, to say the least. There are a lot of people out there trying to invent better mousetraps — competition for everything in the industry is fierce, and to have two virtual unknowns so entwined with the guts of the trading machinery is, well, for lack of a better word, remarkable. And for one of the two to be so close to some of the biggest terrorist financiers in the world is beyond worrisome.”

Silver shifted. “I get that you’re troubled by it.”

Richard nodded. “It’s like finding out that the brother of a guy who used to hang out with Osama Bin Laden is involved with virtually every company that makes the guidance systems for nuclear warheads. No, I take that back. A better example would be that he wrote the software for, or had a hand in founding, every company responsible for controlling the nation’s nuclear power plants. It’s that weird. Think about it for a second. If you just removed the words financial industry and replaced them with nuclear industry, there would be investigations mounted before I could put down the phone. And yet here we have nothing.”

“Right. But it’s not the same, Richard.”

“No, but the financial system has the same capacity to cripple us, if not more so. We’re so used to anticipating risks in a conventional sense — planes flying into buildings or bombs strapped to people’s chests — but the truth is that’s all completely obsolete. If you want to wage war these days there’s no need to drop bombs or invade. You just attack the target’s economy and pretty soon your enemy is begging for a loan.”

“But you’ve found no evidence of any foul play, right?”

“Not so far, but how long have I been looking into this? I have a good nose for crookery, and I’ve never seen a scenario that demands a task force more than this one. Yet nobody seems worried but me. My boss was polite, but I could tell he isn’t going to push it.”

“That’s probably because nobody understands it like you do. This is pretty complex and arcane stuff, Richard. It sounds like he doesn’t have a clue what’s really at stake here.”

“I know. It’s one of the many curses of being a numbers geek.”

During the next half an hour, Richard painstakingly walked her through his research until Silver realized that her eyes were starting to glaze over. He was so passionate about the topic you could feel the electricity coming off him, like an engine revving at ten thousand RPM. But in the end, for all the intrigue, it wasn’t getting them any closer to catching the killer — which was her primary directive.

“I agree this is alarming, but frankly, Richard, I don’t see what we can do about it. I don’t mean to be small-minded, but I’m going to stay focused on the task force and try to avoid getting sucked into tangents — as fascinating as they are.” She stifled a yawn.

“Saving the financial system from itself is definitely not in our job description.” Richard shook his head and looked at his watch. “It’s just depressing that you can have a hole this big, with such profound implications, and nobody wants to know about it.”

“We can add it to the list of unfair things in the world,” she agreed.

He stretched his arms over his head and sighed, then gave her a look of frustration and…something else. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink.” He paused, as if mulling over a difficult decision, then leaned back in his chair and fixed her with an intense gaze. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Silver. I completely respect your position of authority and the fact that you’re the task force leader on this case…but would you like to have a cocktail with me? Maybe grab dinner?”

Silver’s breath caught in her throat, and she felt herself flushing. Was he asking her out?

She hesitated for a few seconds before speaking. “Are you asking me out?”

Richard appeared to consider her question, and then nodded. “You know what? I am.”

A cascade of mixed emotions came crashing in at once. What was he thinking? And what was she? There was no way she could go out with Richard. It wasn’t appropriate.

Why not? He’s a temporary resource assigned for who knows how long, not a permanent fixture, and he’s close to the same rank — not that it mattered. So there wasn’t really anything wrong with having dinner with him, was there? There weren’t any rules against it. The little voice in her head wasn’t helping. The last thing she needed with all the other crap going on in her life was to get involved with a co-worker.

He’s asking you out for a drink, not suggesting you have sex on the table. Although it’s certainly been a while. And there are always going to be plenty of emergencies to contend with — if you wait until there aren’t any crises, you’ll be in your seventies before you see a naked man anywhere but in the movies. Her inner dialogue was not providing the kind of support she needed. This was crazy. The answer was no. Absolutely not.

“I’d have to get a babysitter.”

Was that her voice? Did she just say that?

“That’s what they’re for, right?” Richard’s eyes glittered. She could swear they did. Glittered like diamonds.

“I…I don’t know if this is such a good idea, Richard.” Finally. Whatever evil demon had temporarily possessed her had departed and sanity had returned.

“What? Getting a babysitter? I mean, you can’t just leave Kennedy locked in the attic. They frown on that sort of thing, even in New York — don’t they? I’m not up on all the local codes, but still…”

They both laughed nervously. The tension had been broken.

“I suppose one drink wouldn’t kill me. It’s forever since I’ve been anyplace but my kitchen at night. It might be good to get out.” Yes. And maybe he can dance for you. Take off that hot, binding shirt and swing it around his head, above washboard abs…

“Then it’s decided. You make a few calls, I’ll cancel my dinner at the United Nations, and we can go grab a bite and have a martini or something. I can even give you a ride to pick up Kennedy, if you want. Chauffeur service, with food dangled as a lure. How can you beat that?” Richard asked, and Silver had to laugh again. He did have a quirky charm.

And maybe he does have washboard abs. Judging by the rest of him, you never knew.

She felt a flush rise to her cheeks as she quickly rose and smoothed her blouse. “Okay, then. You talked me into it. Let me see what I can do. Are we done with all this for the day? Is there anything else that’s germane to the case you’ve been able to find?” Silver asked, struggling to deflect her inner tension.

“No, you just heard everything. But you have to admit, the more we look into this, the uglier it gets. It starts to look more plausible that this could be a concerted effort rather than a single perpetrator. I’m not saying that’s what’s happening. I’m saying that, given the players, you certainly can’t rule it out.”

“I know what you mean, but I’m not sold on the idea of The Regulator as a red herring. I won’t discount anything, but all along this has felt more, I don’t know, personal. Something about the way he’s carrying out the killings. Don’t ask me why I’m so convinced, but I am.” Silver realized as she finished that she sounded completely illogical.

“I happen to agree with you, Silver, although the group theory is certainly plausible. Tell you what. Let’s put this to bed for the evening and come back to it tomorrow, shall we? I don’t think we’re going to make any more progress today. I’m beat — I feel like I’m running on empty.”

“Sounds like a plan. Let me go make some calls. I’ll buzz you when I know for sure about the babysitter.”

Richard collected his papers and loosened his tie. “Okay. You know where I’ll be.”

Silver felt dizzy as he left her office. What had just happened? One minute they were discussing the world of financial terrorism and the next she’d been agreeing to dinner and drinks. It felt overwhelming. And crazy. Impulsive. Completely unlike her.

And right. It felt right.

It was as though part of her psyche had been spirited back to high school; butterflies of excitement and anticipation danced a tarantella in her stomach.

She hoped Sarah, her babysitter, was available on short notice.

Life had just gotten interesting.

Richard drove to the daycare, and after some awkward introductions, he ferried Silver and Kennedy home, fighting his way through the snarl of belligerent vehicles, obviously uncomfortable with the aggressive driving style of the New York streets. When they arrived at her flat, Silver agreed to meet him in an hour, and then she and Kennedy disappeared into the building in a swirl of hair and giggles.

He raced to his little apartment, took a quick shower, and changed into something more relaxed than his suit, then spent the balance of his time calling around to the few restaurants he’d heard of — with no success.

The traffic lights conspired to make him a few minutes late; he arrived to find her already waiting for him on the sidewalk, wearing jeans and a colorful blouse. She swung the door open and slid into the passenger seat.

He greeted her with his relaxed grin. “Kennedy all set?”

“You bet. She loves it when Sarah’s there because she can sit on the computer for hours, and all Sarah wants to do is watch TV and chat on her cell phone. It’s a symbiotic relationship. Sarah gets paid, and Kennedy gets to do what she enjoys…and I get to have a cocktail and some decent food. I hope you’ve picked a good place.”

“Actually, I bombed out on getting a reservation on short notice. But I’ve heard there are a slew of restaurants over by Union Square. Maybe we can get into one without having to pay a fortune to bribe the head waiter?”

“Beats me. You’ve probably eaten out more than I have. My evenings are spent slaving over a hot microwave and dealing with work I brought home.”

“Well, then we’re both in for a treat. My dining adventures have been confined to take-out Chinese and pizza from the places on my block. I do some of my better work at night. Always been like that, ever since my college days. I sort of got into the habit, and it stuck.”

Within eight minutes they’d found a parking lot that wasn’t full, and the second restaurant they tried had open tables — a cozy Italian bistro masquerading as ‘continental’ with a Mediterranean twist. They ordered drinks and took their time with the menu as the waiter dallied at the bar.

Once their cosmopolitans had arrived they made their dinner selection, and the waiter returned with a basket of bread and a ceramic bowl of garlic-infused oil. They dipped and munched, and Richard took a long appreciative sip of his drink before leaning back and letting out a sigh.

“I can’t tell you how good that tastes after a day like today.”

“Oh, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” she said and took a pull on hers.

They made small talk as the appetizer arrived — something the menu referred to as Pan-Asian Italian fusion that seemed suspiciously like bruschetta with fresh ginger on top. Silver took a tentative bite and pronounced it delicious. Richard wasted no time digging in.

The background music changed from a vaguely French accordion-driven melody to Moroccan over a slow-grooving techno beat. The ambient lighting level was lowered to suit the hour, creating a warm amber glow. The second sip of her Cosmo tasted better than the first, and Silver felt herself relaxing.

Richard made a silent toast with his drink and then grinned. “So, Assistant Special Agent in Charge Cassidy, what’s your story? How did you get to be such a kick-ass crime fighter?” he asked.

She smiled. “A ‘kick-ass crime fighter’, you say? Wow. Kennedy will love that. I think you may have just coined her new nickname for me.” She set her drink down on the table. “My story? Boy. How much time do we have?”

“It’s your babysitter that’s on the clock. But from my standpoint, I’d say as long as it takes.”

“That’s very generous of you, but be careful what you wish for.” Her eyes flitted to the ceiling for a moment. “Let’s see. I was born in Maine, moved to New York to go to college — Columbia — and got my degree in business. I knew I wanted to be with the FBI since I was about sixteen years old. Don’t ask me why. That’s a whole other story. Anyhow, once I graduated, I applied to the Bureau and was accepted under a language program thirteen years ago…and the rest is history.”

“What do you speak?”

“Spanish. My mom was from El Salvador, so I grew up fluent.”

“Have you always been in Violent Crime?”

“No, I did my first eight in Organized Crime, then switched. What about you?” Silver was always uncomfortable talking about herself.

“Graduated Georgetown with a CPA and then a law degree, joined the bureau fourteen years ago, and have been happy ever since. But what about the rest of your story? You know — the non-career stuff? Kennedy? Life?” Richard probed.

“Kennedy is the best thing that ever happened to me. Her father is probably the worst. We got married twelve years ago after a whirlwind courtship once I finished with training. A classic Cinderella story. He was a New York wheeler-dealer from a privileged family, and I was a girl from the sticks, in the big city with no friends. I was pretty much all about getting straight A’s so I didn’t do the usual college party thing. I met him my last year in school, and he was charming and smooth. One thing led to another, and we were sort of a couple until I went to Quantico. He would come to town every few weeks to visit me, and I thought it was true love. Once I was an agent we moved in together, and I’d commute upstate during the weeks before we got married six months later. Kennedy was a surprise, but the best one I could have ever had.”

Silver finished her drink and motioned to the waiter that she wanted another. Richard polished his off and held up two fingers.

“How long have you been separated?” Richard asked.

“Divorced. About five years.”

“Do I dare ask why?”

“I could say irreconcilable differences, but the truth is I discovered he was chronically unfaithful — probably throughout the marriage, including when I was pregnant. I decided I could do better than that, so I folded up my tent and filed for divorce. It was devastating for Kennedy at first, but she’s adjusted now, for the most part.”

The waiter arrived with their second round of drinks and assured them that their entrees would be out shortly.

“And now? Boyfriend?” Richard asked.

“Honestly, that hasn’t been a big priority. Between running task forces and being a single mom, there isn’t a lot of disco time, if you know what I mean,” Silver admitted.

“Then it sounds like you could use this drink even more than I could.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Silver said and took a noisy slurp.

She set her glass down and studied Richard. “Since we’re on the full disclosure path, what about you? What’s your deal?”

“My deal?”

“Sure. Ever been married?”

“Nope. Came close once, but I chickened out at the last minute, which was for the best. I loved her, or thought I did, but she wanted this whole structured life that she’d already planned out, and I got to feeling like I was just another slot to fill — the loving husband slot — in her vision of what a life well lived would entail. Nothing wrong with that, but I sort of felt like if it wasn’t me in the slot she would find someone else pretty quickly. Which is exactly what happened. In hindsight, it was the best thing for both of us. She has an insurance executive husband who does the nine-to-five thing and goes to the kids’ soccer games on weekends, and she’s a stay-at-home mom working on the great American novel. She was a literature major at Georgetown. We hit it off after meeting at a friend’s party.”

“And since then? Girlfriend?” Silver smiled as she echoed his question.

“A few, but nothing that stuck. Last relationship lasted almost three years, but I spent the first year falling head over heels, the second asking myself what the hell I was doing, and the final one trying to end it. So no, nothing going on in my love life. Which leaves a lot of time for poring over financial data.”

The waiter arrived with their dinners, setting them down with a gentle precision before retreating from their table.

As they chatted, Silver realized that he was calm and humble; two traits she’d always found attractive. Richard seemed like the real thing — a nice guy who was comfortable in his skin, not struggling to impress.

“What about your analyst — Stacy? She seemed like she’d be receptive.”

“Stacy? Nah. Not my type. I mean, don’t get me wrong. She’s smart and attractive…but after working together for a few years, let’s just say that I know enough to know it wouldn’t work. So why go there?” Richard took a forkful of his fish and tried it. “Mmmm. This is excellent. You have to try some.”

He cut a piece for her and slid it onto her plate.

She popped it into her mouth and nodded approval. “You’re right. That’s great. What is it?”

“Pesto crusted halibut. Baked. Melts in your mouth.”

“My eggplant is wonderful too. Can I tempt you?”

“Maybe later…”

Silver wondered how he intended that, then decided she wasn’t worried about it. She was having a good time with a handsome, nice, eligible man. She could turn her brain off for a while.

They finished dinner and lingered over a nightcap, chatting easily, any trace of awkwardness in each other’s company now completely gone. She decided that she liked the way Richard looked when he talked — his facial expressions, and the way his eyes fixed her with a palpable intensity.

When they pulled up to her building, Richard surprised her by leaning over and kissing her; a slow, gentle-yet-passionate kiss that seemed to go on forever. She closed her eyes as their tongues danced, and when he pulled back, she realized she’d been holding her breath.

“I…that…”

“I had a wonderful time, Silver.”

She studied him, taking in his serious demeanor; confident, and yet with a hint of something else. Was he afraid she was going to say something to ruin it? Scold him, or chastise him? That was it. He looked just a little uneasy, as though afraid he’d crossed a line she hadn’t wanted him to cross.

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, savoring his scent and the feel of his face against hers.

“I did, too. Especially this part.” She held her hand up and stroked his chin, then slid out the door. “Goodnight, Richard. It was a perfect evening.”

He waited until she unlocked her front door and then waved as he pulled off.

She ascended the stairs slowly, thoughtfully, her mind a whirl of conflicting impressions. What was she doing? This was so unlike her — the methodical, cautious, orderly Silver she was comfortable with. This had come on like some kind of a force of nature, a storm rolling into previously calm skies. The feel of his lips on hers, the taste of him, lingered as she reached her landing. She paused to take stock of how she felt.

Giddy, she decided — like she wanted to run back down to the street and chase after the car, grab Richard, and drag him someplace private.

Whatever this storm may bring, she welcomed it.

It had been too long.

She took several deep breaths and patted her hair as she waited for her heart rate to return to normal. Richard had triggered a reaction in her that was completely unexpected, one that she’d long ago decided was part of her past, not her future. She didn’t know how that would develop, but she did know that she wanted to see him again outside of work and damn the consequences. There had been a promise of unfinished business in that kiss, and she wanted to confirm whether her attraction to him, so powerful and immediate, was a product of the night and the booze, or something more.

There was only one way to find out.