Ruby bit back a laugh. Not everyone missed her. The director certainly didn’t, not with the bureaucratic nightmare she’d left in her wake. Who wanted an untethered loose cannon with too much simmering rage and no one but bad guys to take it out on? Not the man who had to handle the aftermath.

They all pretended her little break from the BAU was some kind of self-care retreat instead of a punishment, a threat. Next time, do it by the book or else the next leave of absence will be a permanent one.

“I don’t know if that’s enough, Joce,” Ruby replied.

Before Joce could argue, the deputy director, Warren Bellisario, sauntered up to them, offering Jocelyn an apologetic smile.

“Do you mind if I interrupt?” he asked.

Bellisario hadn’t been a field agent for ages, but he didn’t have the same bureaucratic air about him that so many people in management did. He may have switched to patent leather shoes and a suit, but his office wardrobe didn’t mask his sturdy, capable build. His hair grayed around his temples and, that morning in particular, he appeared world-weary and tired, but he was professional as always.

Jocelyn nodded, retreating back to the agents. Ruby’s chest tightened at the separation, the clear divide between them and her.

Bellisario gave one last glance back at the group before resting a hand on Ruby’s shoulder.

“Could I get you a coffee?” he asked.

Ruby braced herself for a lecture or more unwelcome concern but nodded.

“Good,” Bellisario said, “we should talk.”

CHAPTER TWO

Bellisario ushered Ruby to a table in the back of a hip independent coffee shop. It had that quaint charm of DIY art and mismatched chairs. Compared to the cemetery, it was welcoming and cozy, the perfect place to get out of the cold, but Ruby wasn’t ready to be warmed over. She and Bellisario looked sorely out of place, Bellisario with his clean-cut appearance and Ruby dressed all in black with her blonde hair pulled tightly back into an austere bun.

The coffee shop was meant for relaxed artists and liberal arts students, not for people like them.

“You wanted to talk?” Ruby said, settling into a bentwood chair across from him. She toyed with the lid of her coffee cup. Facing him like this felt too much like an interrogation with her on the wrong side.

“I have something I think might be good for you,” Bellisario said tentatively, “if you’re up for it.”

“Some healthy coping mechanisms?” Ruby asked. “Bikram yoga?”

As if sweating in a sports bra would bring her inner peace.

Bellisario offered her a tight smile.

“Not quite what I had in mind,” he said.

Bellisario brought out a file folder, the familiar FBI confidential stamp on it. His gaze flicked briefly around the café, his shoulders hunching in the lack of privacy. Ruby mirrored him instinctively.