Leandra barely suppressed a grimace. The United States Army Criminal Investigation Command, USACIDC for short, had flown in a team that was at the scene now, but that was about the only thing that had gone right. She’d talked to the lead investigator, gotten a lecture on procedure and fiction versus reality, and had then been told in no uncertain terms that it was kind of difficult to do one’s job when the building in question was still smoldering where it wasn’t soaked through.
“Not yet.”
The bandage was loose enough Young could tug it off now. He glared down at the bloody material for a moment then balled it up and tossed it at the trashcan. Leandra was reluctantly impressed when he sank the lumpy missile without even looking. The gash on his head had been cleaned and stitched up, but the area around it was starting to swell. It looked painful, not that Young deigned to flinch when he prodded at it.
“None of this shit makes sense,” he huffed, and finally left the wound alone. He glanced at her ramrod stiff posture. “At ease, Lieutenant. Did you watch the debriefings?”
Leandra eased into the more comfortable stance with relief and nodded. “I talked to Sergeant Vasquez.”
“So what do you think?”
Surprise made her look him in the face for the first time since she’d entered. She’d fucked him over; he had no reason to listen to her opinion or trust her in any way. Yet there he was, meeting her gaze with those keen, cool eyes. He was giving her a second chance, she realized. Wasn’t making a big deal of it like every other superior officer she’d known up to then; just offered her an opportunity to do her job and prove she’d really meant the apology… and for the first time in a long while, Leandra found she actually did mean it, if only in retrospect.
“Frankly, sir,” she said, proud of how steady and dry her voice came out, “the whole story sounds like what passes for the plot in a summer
blockbuster.”
Young laughed; a sharp boom of a sound that seemed too loud in the small infirmary room. He winced and swayed briefly before he caught himself. Exhaustion and possibly a minor concussion, Leandra diagnosed, plus he had to be black-and-blue after that tumble out of a moving car, controlled fall or not. She was smart enough to keep her mouth shut. He couldn’t be in any immediate danger or the medical personnel wouldn’t have left him alone, so she might as well save her breath. He wouldn’t have listened anyway.
Luckily, Young might be goal-oriented, but wasn’t an idiot. He clearly knew his limits and thus didn’t attempt to stand up and be a hero but settled back on the gurney to wait until his body gave him the all clear.