Val pulled back her long russet tresses, twisting and wrapping them into a low bun at the base of her neck. My sad thin black hair was teeming with jealousy as Val struggled with four bobby pins to keep the sheer weight of her hair from pulling the bun out of place. Her sideswept bangs were pulled across her forehead and tucked behind her left ear.

Val appeared young, but she didn’t seem inexperienced. The day before, she’d mentioned several closed cases that she had under her belt already.

“I said San Diego was temporary, too, and here I am, four years later.”

She followed me to the wall with the built-in coffee nook and Keurig.

Squad Five was back to the grind, typing on their computers or talking on the phone. When my mug was full, I grabbed packets of sugar and creamer and then returned to my high-backed black chair. I tried not to compare everything with my cubicle in Chicago, but San Diego had had new offices built just two years before. In certain areas, I could still smell the fresh paint. Chicago was well-worn. It had been home for six and a half years before I’d transferred. My chair there was practically molded to my backside, the files in my desk organized just the way I wanted, the cubicle walls between agents were tall enough for at least a little privacy, and the ASAC hadn’t ripped me to shreds in front of the entire squad on my second day.

Val watched me set the steaming mug on my desk, and then sat in her chair.

I fingered the package of creamer, frowning.

“I’m out of half-and-half, but I do have two-percent in the refrigerator,” she said, a tinge of sympathy in her voice.

I made a face. “No. I hate milk.”

Val’s eyebrows shot up, and then her eyes fell to the floor, surprised at my tone. “Okay then. You’re not a fan of milk. Won’t ask again.”

“No. I hate milk—as in, my soul hates milk.”

Val chuckled. “Well then, I won’t make the trip.” She eyed my empty desk, devoid of family pictures or even a penholder. “The guy who used to be at this cubicle…his name was Trex.”

“Trex?” I asked.

“Scottie Trexler. God, he was cute. He transferred out, too—all the way out. I think he’s with a different agency now.” She sighed, her eyes seeing something I couldn’t. “I liked him.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, not sure what else to say.

She shrugged. “I’ve learned not to get attached around here. Maddox runs a tight ship, and not a lot of agents can take it.”

“He doesn’t scare me,” I said.

“I won’t tell him you said that, or he really won’t stay off your tail.”

I felt my face get hot, enough that Val noticed, and she narrowed her eyes.