“You know, it could help if you talk about it. I’ve been in this business a long time. I’ve seen many reactions to scenes in this job,” he added.

Tara swirled the idea around in her head. Maybe he’s right, she thought. Whenever she’d told the truth about her past, it had calmed her anxiety. It had happened with John, with his parents. They never spoke much about it afterward, but it was as if her mind could relax once the elephant in the room was discussed. Maybe it was what she needed.

“The scene just reminded me of something in my past. Something I often try to forget.” Her words trailed off as she looked down toward her hands fidgeting in her lap.

“I mean, that’s usually what happens,” Warren responded. “You wouldn’t have gotten this far and gotten through the academy if you’re afraid of death or blood, so I kind of assumed it was something a bit more personal.”

Tara could sense him look over at her, but she kept her head down and just nodded.

“Believe it or not, seeking a job for subconscious reasons is not unusual.” He paused. “I guess it’s just a natural reaction to seek closure. Joining the FBI could be seen as having power over situations similar to ones in an agent’s past.”

Tara looked up at him. It was as if he could see right through her.

“It doesn’t make you a bad agent, Mills. But you got to figure it out.”

Tara hesitated and chose her next words carefully.

“But what do agents do when it interferes with work?” she asked.

Warren let out a big sigh. “Well,” he began, “that does happen too, Mills. You’re not the only one.” He looked over at her. “That’s the crazy thing…” He shook his head at his words. “We go into this seeking power or closure—and ninety-nine percent of the time we are oblivious to why we even sought out this profession, but for whatever reason, we go into it. And all it does is reopen the wounds we tried so hard to close. Some people have to get out of it. Some find other ways to cope.” He paused for a brief second. “Do you like your job, Mills? Given what it brought up inside you?”

“Yeah, I do,” she replied.

“Well good.” He smiled. “I thought so too, that’s why I didn’t tell Reindhart.”

Tara’s hands stopped fidgeting. “So how do people cope?” she asked. “The ones who stick around, I mean.”

“Well, what is it exactly from your past that’s troubling you?”

Tara felt a sudden shock at his directness, but she knew it was now safe to tell him.

“My mom was murdered,” she said.

She waited for a reaction from Warren, but it was as if the words were no more than what he was expecting and he just nodded his head and kept his eyes on the road.

“My father killed her and I walked in on it.”