a note of finality to her voice that indicated the subject was closed.
He got up from the table and placed his cup next to hers in the sink. “Just let me get my coat and I’ll be ready.”
He left her in the kitchen and headed to his bedroom. He supposed it had been foolish of him to try to get her to talk about the end of their relationship. And really, what could he say? That he was sorry? That he’d been a fool?
He’d known he’d broken her heart and that would always be between them. He couldn’t take back what had been done, so maybe she was right. There was really nothing to talk about.
He strapped on his shoulder holster then pulled on the black suit jacket that matched his pants. He grabbed his winter coat, then left the room and found her waiting at the front door.
Her light-blue ski jacket made her eyes an electric blue and complemented her blond coloring, but those eyes held the same cold frost they’d held the day before when she’d realized for good or for bad, he was back in her life.
They were both silent on the drive to the lab. He was already thinking ahead to the memorial service for Julie and at the same time watching the rearview mirror and their surroundings for any sign of trouble.
The Kenner County Crime Unit was located on the third floor of an old Kenner City annex building. “Don’t get out of the car until I come around to get you out,” Tom said as he parked the car in the parking space designated for Callie.
He shut off the engine and opened his coat to allow him quick and easy access to his gun, then left the car and walked around to the passenger door.
The air was frigid and held the scent of the possibility of snow. The long-term forecasts were warning of several potential big snowstorms coming into the area in the next couple of weeks.
He opened Callie’s door and as she got out of the car he pulled her close against him. He felt her stiffen, but he didn’t release his hold on her. This wasn’t about emotional baggage between them. This was about her safety.
He didn’t release her until they got inside the building. They were early enough that there was nobody standing to wait for the elevators. He pushed the up button and the doors immediately opened.
It was only when they were in the small enclosure that he began to relax. She would be safe here at the lab during the day when the place was filled with both law enforcement officials and coworkers.
“I’ve got some things to take care of today,” he said as they rode up. “Needless to say, I don’t want you leaving the lab for any reason until I’m back here to escort you home.”
She gave him a dry look. “I might not like what’s going on in my life, but I’m also not self-destructive or likely to be stupid. I’m not about to break the rules and get myself killed.”
“Good,” he said in satisfaction. There was nothing worse than being assigned a protective duty to somebody who didn’t really want to be protected or thought it might be fun to try to lose a bodyguard. Those were the people who usually found themselves dead.
The elevator door whooshed open and they stepped out into the hallway. A faint odor of smoke lingered and at the end of the hallway the supply closet was blocked off with bright orange cones that indicated it was a crime scene.
When they stepped into the reception area the dark-haired, dark-eyed receptionist greeted them.
“Oh, Callie, I’m so glad to see you’re back here and okay,” she exclaimed.
Callie smiled. It was the first genuine smile Tom had seen on her face and it punched a hole in his heart. He’d forgotten how her smile lit up a room, how it not only curved her lips but also warmed her cold blue eyes. “I’m fine. Elizabeth, this is FBI Agent Tom Ryan and Tom, this is Elizabeth Reddawn, receptionist extraordinaire.”
“Tom Ryan? Oh, I have a package for you,” Elizabeth said. She picked up a manila envelope from her desk and handed it to him.
It had been forwarded to him from FBI headquarters. He turned to look at Callie. “Is there someplace private I can go to open this?” He couldn’t imagine what might be inside.
“You can use my office. Follow me.” She led him across the lab to a door at the back of the room. The office was small and as impersonal as her home had been. “Feel free to use my desk if you need to,” she said as she grabbed a white lab coat that hung on a hook just inside the door and left the room.
“Thanks,” he said to her retreating form. He sat at the desk and tore open the manila envelope to reveal a letter-sized envelope inside. It was addressed to him and marked personal. In the return address space were the initials JG.
Julie Grainger? His heart began to pump with a rush of adrenaline. As he ran his fingers across the envelope he felt something hard inside. What the heck?
He carefully tore the top of the envelope open and withdrew the piece of paper that was folded up inside. He opened it and saw that it was a map of some kind. At the top of the map was a strange symbol, like the letters VDG entwined with grapes and vines. Vincent Del Gardo?
He shook the envelope and initially he thought it was a coin that dropped out on the desk. He didn’t touch it, but instead got up and called to Callie.
When she appeared in the doorway he pointed to the coin. “This coin or whatever it is came in an envelope from Julie Grainger.” Callie’s eyes opened wide as he continued. “I was wondering if you could check it for fingerprints.”
“Let me get a set of tweezers and a fingerprint kit and see what we have.” She left the office and returned a moment later. She carefully flipped the item over. “It’s not a coin. It’s a St. Christopher medal.”
“St. Christopher medal?”
“The patron saint of travelers. Legend has it that he once carried an unbearably heavy baby across a wide river and it was later learned that the baby was Jesus Christ.”
He looked at her in surprise. “How do you know that?”
“One of my mother’s best friends was not only a showgirl, but also a Catholic who had statues of most of the patron saints in her apartment,” Callie explained. “She taught me about them whenever she’d babysit me.”
Tom watched as she opened the fingerprinting kit then twisted the top of a bottle of metallic powder. Using the ostrich feather duster, she deftly swirled the powder onto the medal. She frowned as no ridges showed up. She flipped it over and dusted the other side with the same disappointing results. “Nothing,” she said, stating the obvious. “At least no fingerprints, but there are several numbers etched into the back of the coin.”
“Numbers?” He bent closer to take a look and tried to ignore the scent of her, the warmth of her body so close to his own.
“Looks like a seven, a nine and a four. Does that mean anything to you?”
“No.” He frowned and stepped back from her. “Can you dust the map?” He pointed to the piece of paper he’d withdrawn from the envelope.
“Sure.” She pulled out a bottle of black powder and began the process of dusting the paper. “What is this?” she asked as she worked.
“I don’t have a clue,” he replied. He was going to have to look at it more closely, see if he could make heads or tails of it.
“VDG,” Callie breathed softly, reading the initials at the top of the map. “Maybe this is some kind of a clue as to where Del Gardo might be hiding out?”
“Who knows?” At least for the moment the tension that had existed between them was gone, vanished under the bigger questions of the mystery map and the medal.
He picked up the envelope that he knew had probably been handled by too many people for fingerprinting. “It was mailed the day before her murder.”
Callie looked up at him, her