Books were piled high on the counters, and I brushed them to the side, looking for any viable meal option. I settled on a microwave mac and cheese I found buried in the freezer.

A bottle of scotch I had been saving sat in the corner, and my hand was outstretched for it, but I stopped myself. The microwave beeped, snatching my attention, and I left the bottle behind.

I carried the meal to my makeshift living room—a singular armchair and side table. I had no television, but again, books were piled around me. My latest read sat held open by the arm of the chair.

It only took a few bites of food before I settled back in my armchair. I tried picking up my latest read, but the words just blurred together. Every time I tried, the cold case was at the forefront of my mind.

It was eating away at me.

Why this case? It wasn’t her. I couldn’t bring her back.

I knew Grey was right, but still, the case nagged at me.

The more I thought about it, the harder it became to push aside. If I could just talk to the woman behind the tips, I could just confirm they were dead ends.

It would be as simple as that.

I would be doing the bureau a favor.

I stood up and searched for my phone.

It was absurd.

Every decision I ever made was based on logic.

I picked up the phone, scrolled to Grey’s contact, and hit dial.

It was a minute before he picked up, and I half expected it to go to voicemail.

“Yeah, Beck?” he answered.

“I want time off,” I said hesitantly into the phone.

Was I actually doing this?

“I need time and space away to clear my head, and when I come back, I will put all my efforts into becoming a field agent again.”

It was a lie, but one I knew he was too desperate to see through. He’d dragged me back here from my lowest point. Grey showed up at my trailer that night and hadn’t given me any other option. I knew he wanted me back in the field.

Enough to believe my words.

“I agree. Maybe some time and space is best,” Grey said into the other end. “When will you be leaving?”

“Tomorrow,” I answered before I could stop myself.

If I thought a minute longer about the decision, I would have talked myself out of it. I was never meant to work a case again, so why this one? What about this case could I not let go?