Slowly, she shook her head.
“Thank you,” she replied. “But no.”
“Why not?” he asked. “Not to talk too badly about the men you work with, but you’re being misused.”
“What would I do at the FBI?” she asked.
“You’d make a stellar field agent,” he said. “Hell, maybe a profiler, too.”
Mackenzie looked thoughtfully into her beer, a bit taken aback. She had again been stunned to silence and now felt that she had a lot to consider. What if she could make it as an agent? How drastically would her life change? How rewarding would it be to work a job she loved without the hindrances of men like Nelson and Porter to hold her back?
“You okay?” Ellington asked.
Still peering into the dark beer in front of her, she sighed. She thought about Zack for a moment and could not recall the last meaningful conversation they’d had. When was the last time he’d built her up in the same way Ellington was right now? For that matter, when was the last time any man had spoken so highly of her directly in front of her?
“I’m fine,” she said. “I appreciate everything you’re saying. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
“Good,” Ellington said softly, not missing a beat. “But let me ask you: do you have a history of holding yourself back?”
“I don’t think it’s my self,” she said. “I think it’s just…I don’t know. My past, maybe?”
“Your dad’s death?”
She nodded.
“That’s some of it,” she said.
There’s also my string of failed relationships, she thought, but didn’t think it was appropriate to say. And as she dwelled on it, she suddenly wondered if the two were related – her dad’s death and her relationships. Maybe the source of all of it was, after all, the death.
Would she ever recover from it? She didn’t see how she could. No matter how many bad guys she put behind bars, nothing ever seemed to help.
He nodded as if he understood perfectly.
“I understand,” he said.
Then, flashing him a smile so he’d know she was joking, she asked: “Are you psychoanalyzing me, Agent Ellington?”
“No, I’m talking to you. I’m listening. Nothing more.”
Mackenzie finished her beer and slid the glass to the edge of the bar. The bartender grabbed it right away and filled it again, placing it back in front of her.
“I know that’s why this case has me shaken so badly,” she added. “A man is using women. Maybe it’s not for sex, but he’s inflicting pain and shame on them as a way to express some deranged point.”
“And this is the first case you’ve had like this?”
“Yes. I mean, I’ve been to domestic dispute calls where a husband roughed up his wife, and I’ve questioned two women after they were raped. But nothing like this.”
She drank from her beer, realizing that it was going down far too easily. She had never been a big drinker and this beer – her third of the night – was pushing her to a line that she had tried to avoid crossing ever since college.
“I don’t know if my hunches mean anything to you,” Ellington said, “but this guy will be caught within a few days. I’m pretty sure of it. He’s getting too cocky and one of these leads we keep accumulating will eventually pay off. Plus, the fact that you’re heading it all up is a big plus.”
“How can you be so sure?” she asked. “About my performance, I mean? And why are you being so nice?”
He was filling her with confidence and, at the same time, reinforcing a trait she possessed that she knew was one of the worst things about her. She knew she tended to get defensive around men that complimented her, mainly because it always meant they wanted one thing. Looking at Ellington as he smiled her, she didn’t think it would be too bad if he was looking for that one specific thing. In fact, she was starting to think she might enjoy the hell out of it. Of course, he was going back tomorrow and the chances were very good that she’d never see him again.
Maybe that’s exactly what I need, she thought. One night. No emotion, no expectations, just the dark and this too-good-to-be-true FBI agent that seems to know all the right things to say and —
She shut the thought down because, quite frankly, it was far too enticing. She then realized that Ellington had still not answered her question: Why are you being so nice?
He bit back his smile and finally answered.
“Because,” he replied, “you deserve a break. I got my position because a friend knew a friend who knew a deputy chief. And I can guarantee you that half of the cavemen on your force can say the same thing or something similar.”
She laughed, and the sound of it made her realize that she was just about to tip over that line. As she tried to recall the last time she had gotten drunk, she tipped back the rest of her beer and slid the glass to the edge of the bar. When the bartender came for it, she shook her head.
“Can you drive?” she asked. “I’m a bit of a lightweight. Sorry.”
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
When the bartender came over with their tabs, Ellington quickly picked hers up before she could lay a hand on it. Watching him do that, she decided that she was going to find out what one emotionless night with a man straight out of a dream might be like. After all, she now had her house and her bed all to herself. What could it hurt?
They walked outside to the car and she noticed that Ellington was walking extremely close to her. He opened her car door for her, furthering his charm in her eyes. When he closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side, Mackenzie rested her head against the headrest and took a deep breath. From an abandoned house with a dead woman on a pole to here, on the verge of propositioning a man she had only met yesterday – had this really all happened in the course of less than twelve hours?
“Your car is at the station, right?” Ellington asked.
“It is,” she said. And then, her heart beating, she hesitantly added, “But we pass my place on the way – we could just stop there if you want.”
He gave her a perplexed look and the corners of his mouth seemed to battle between a smile and a frown. It was clear that he knew what she was suggesting; she didn’t doubt he’d had similar offers before.
“Ah, Jesus,” he said, rubbing at his head. “To further show you my strong will and character, this is the part where I tell you I’m married.”
Mackenzie looked to his left hand – the same hand she had glanced at several times in the bar just to make sure. There was no ring there.
“I know,” he said. “I never wear it when I’m working. I hate the way it feels when I have to go for my gun.”
“Oh my God,” Mackenzie said. “I’m – ”
“No, it’s okay,” he said. “And believe me, I’m beyond flattered. I meant everything I said in there. And while I’m sure the primal male in me will mentally kick my ass for this for the rest of my life, I love my wife and my daughter very much. I think I – ”
“Can you just take me to my car?” Mackenzie asked, embarrassed. She looked out of the window and felt like screaming.
“I’m sorry,” Ellington said.
“Don’t be. It’s my fault. I should have known better.”
He started the car and pulled out of the lot. “Better than what?” he asked as they headed back for the station.
“Nothing,” she said, still refusing to look at him.
But in the silence that hung heavy on the way to the station, she thought: I should have known better than to believe in something too good to be true.
As they drove home in the silence, she wanted to curl up in a ball and die, hating herself, wondering if she had just blown the best opportunity to come along in her life in a long, long time.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN