The Vanishing Season (The Collector #4)(92)

“Don’t you dare.”

“Not for the case, Eliza.”

“Oh. Huh?”

He huffs an almost laugh, the sound rumbling in his chest rather than escaping. “For what you’ve done for me. I’m always a moody, prickly asshole, but even I can recognize how I’ve acted this past week. I don’t think anyone would have blamed you for needing to step away. But you didn’t. You stepped closer, kept me standing. Te amo, Eliza Sterling, and I do not ever want to take you for granted. So whether you think you need to hear it or not: thank you for everything you have done for me in this terrible week. Te lo agradezco de todo corazón.”

I’m definitely awake now, and blurry-eyed with tears. I don’t ever doubt that he loves me—he shows it in a thousand different ways—but he doesn’t often say it. Neither do I, for that matter. We spend so much of our lives at work, or with our team/family, it feels strange to say it more frequently. It means it carries more weight when we do say it, never glib or accidental.

I sit up straight so I can drop a kiss on the end of his nose. “I love you, too, H’aim Sheli.”

My work cell rings obnoxiously loudly in the vehicle. At my string of muttered curses across five different languages, Bran just laughs and pulls it out of the case for me. “Sterling,” I say.

“So Kearney and Ramirez are clearly incapable of taking care of themselves,” says a female voice. It takes me a moment to identify it as Watts. “I’m assuming that means you are too.”

“You told Ramirez to draw up a schedule for taking me on walks.”

“Get in here. We’re feeding you after your shower.” And with that, she hangs up.

If I were inside, she’d be shoving a protein bar into my hands, I think.

We haul our bags in with us. Bran drops his at his desk and goes up to the conference room to check in with Vic. I grab the bag Priya brought me for the meet with Davies and head off to the showers. Mercedes follows me with a box of cling-wrap for my bandage. I pin up my hair and take the fastest shower of my life outside of Girl Scout camp, and when I’m out and dressed in fresh clothing, Mercedes changes out my bandage. The remaining blisters are shrinking rapidly, which is heartening.

“You do your face, I’ll do your hair,” she instructs, plugging in the curling iron that’s been borrowed from God only knows which agent again.

Fifteen minutes later, we get back upstairs just as a massive amount of Chinese food arrives. As everyone else heads to the conference room, I detour to my desk to put down my bags. When I join the others upstairs, Vic stands and wraps me in one of his famous Hanoverian Hugs, warm and strong and just the right side of suffocating. “You’ve done well, Eliza,” he says quietly. “So very well.”

I squeeze back rather than answer, and he lets me go in order to hand me a plastic tub of wonton soup.

“We need to talk to Davies,” Watts says once everyone has had a chance to stuff their faces a bit. “Whether we can get any sense out of him or not, we need to at least be able to say that we’ve talked to him since his arrest.”

“His lawyer okay with that?” asks Burnside.

“As long as she’s in the room while it’s happening, and it stops when she or a doctor says stop. Sterling, you up for this?”

I nod and swap my empty soup tub for a container of beef and broccoli. Bran scoots a smaller box of rice between us to share. “I’m not pretending to be Lisa, right?”

“No. Actually, we’re hoping your appearance will have the opposite effect from yesterday.”

“Two days ago,” the Smiths correct in unison.

She gives them a minatory glare and continues. “He’s not actively hysterical, but he is still agitated. I’m not sending you to interrogate him. I want you to evaluate if we can interrogate him. The first round of psych evals are already scheduled, and we don’t need to interrogate him in order to charge him, but let’s make sure we’ve got all the boxes ticked before we break this.”

“What time is the press conference?” asks Bran, scooping three mushrooms from his meal into mine.

“Ten. We wanted to do it earlier, but seven is about the earliest we can expect the West Coast to tune in broadly. All of the local law enforcement agencies are prepared to run interference for the families for a few days. Sterling, I know you’re tired, but I’d like you to take the lead at the briefing.”

“No.”

She blinks at me. “Pardon?”

I swallow the mouthful of broccoli that prevented me from getting out more than the single word. “Sorry. I just think that’s a really bad idea.”

“Turning shy on me? This is essentially your break. You, Gala, and Yvonne took the detectives’ research and ran with it to form a solid case. We’re all working it, but you’re the one who basically held the reins.”

Which is not at all how I would put it, but it’s also not the most important point.

“If I go out as the lead, the talking points are about me being young and pretty and looking like the missing girls. It takes focus away from the investigation and the discoveries. And then, because the focus is on me, eventually it shifts to my relationship with Bran, and from that point on, the talking points become Bureau fraternization and compromised agents and the legality of the investigation. We haven’t done anything wrong, but defending that will take attention away from the victims and the case and the good work that agents and LEOs in seventeen different cities and states have accomplished. It’s not worth it. I appreciate the honor, I do, but it’s not a good idea.”