Текст книги "Convicted"

Автор книги: Aleatha Romig

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 35 страниц)

Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princes who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.

—Rainer Maria Rilke

During dinner, Francis offered Tony and Phil clothes. It seemed that over the years, a large accumulation of items had been left and stored away on the island; these clothes would suffice until ones more to their liking could be ordered and sent into town. Mumbling under her breath, Claire mentioned, “I was planning on ordering some, but a call changed my mind.”

The only person who heard her comment was the man at her side. Truthfully, he was the only one she wanted to hear. With a table of onlookers, Tony didn’t verbally respond; however, he did reach over and squeeze her hand.

After dinner, Francis and Madeline left Tony, Claire, and Phil alone, and Tony explained his current status. He told Claire about the questioning and the FBI’s ultimatum. He explained how he’d been instructed to stay in contact with the bureau otherwise he’d be considered a fugitive—based on charges of domestic battery.

Claire shook her head vehemently. “No! That’s not what I said to Evergreen. I told him I was running, but not from you! I never said anything about pressing charges.”

“I know.” Tony didn’t sound upset. This wasn’t new territory to any of them; they all knew Claire and Tony’s history. “Roach told me what you said to Evergreen. It’s some ploy of theirs—Brent said it was to get more information.”

“Brent?” Claire asked. “Do Brent and Courtney know the truth? Do they know we’re all right?”

Tony shook his head. “No. It’s safer for them that way.”

Claire lowered her eyes and looked at her lap. She understood; however, it didn’t lessen the pain of knowing she’d lied to her closest friends—again.

Tony described how Eric helped him leave the United States, and how he traveled around Europe. When he talked about specific stops along his journey, they were shocked to learn how close their paths had been. Tony also asked questions. How did Claire find the island? Where exactly were they? Had Claire been in contact with anyone since arriving?

Claire deferred some of his questions to Phil, while she responded to others. “I haven’t been in contact with anyone. I do have a non-traceable phone Phil left here, and I have Har...a number for an FBI contact.”

Tony sat straighter and looked at Phil. Speaking to no one in particular, Phil asked, “Is that my cue to leave this discussion?”

Claire answered first, “No, you know the answers to more of his questions than I do, but before you two discuss the coordinates of our location, I should tell you, Tony, I saw Harry in Italy.”

“So did I”—his voice lowered a pitch—“He told me he’d been with you. Actually, he showed me a picture.”

“A picture!?”—Claire stood—“What sort of picture did he show you? And what are you, or was he, implying—with him? I saw him—I wasn’t with him!”

Tony reached out and took her hand. The hardness she’d heard seconds before disappeared as his thumb rubbed the top of her hand. “It wasn’t anything—just confirmation he’d seen you.”

“Well, did he tell you that he’s a FBI agent? I didn’t get the impression it was a recent change in profession.”

Tony nodded. “He did. Apparently, he’s supposed to be my contact.” Grinning again, he added, “I’m not supposed to leave Switzerland without contacting him first.”

Phil interjected, “Damn”—also with a smile—“I knew we forgot to do something.”

“Do you think he’ll trace you here?” Claire couldn’t hide the panic from her voice.

Phil answered, “As many twists and turns and name changes as we’ve had? I’ll be lucky if I can explain where we are.”

Claire exhaled. “Good, I’m so glad you’re here—both of you, but the last thing I want are unexpected visitors.”

It was Madeline who interrupted their conversation, “Excuse me, Messieurs, Francis has clothes for each of you. They are now in your suites.” After they both thanked her, she continued, “Madame el, if there’s nothing else, we’ll also retire.”

“That’s fine, Madeline, thank you.”

A few moments later, Tony and Phil went into the house to clean up. They’d both been wearing their current clothes for over twenty-four hours and couldn’t wait to change.

Sitting alone on the lanai, Claire closed her eyes and listened to the sea. The surge of emotions over the last few hours combined with raging hormones intensified the familiar pounding in her temples. She knew her headaches bothered Tony, and she didn’t want anything to upset tonight’s reunion. There was a part of her that felt like a newlywed about to join her husband for the first time. It was a silly thought—one that couldn’t be further from the truth; nevertheless, the butterflies in her stomach and the tightened anticipation added to her stretched nerves.

She didn’t hear Madeline’s footsteps or even know she was still present until she spoke, “Madame el, are you all right?”

Claire jumped. “Oh! You scared me. I thought you were gone.”

“We were, but I came to check on you. Is it your head again? Does it bother you?”

Claire reached out and touched Madeline’s hand. “Please don’t mention my headaches around Mr. Rawlings.”

“I’m sure he knows. He looks at you with so much adoration, like he knows your thoughts. I knew right away that he was who you’ve been waiting for.”

Claire grinned. “I never said I was waiting for anyone.”

“No, Madame el, you didn’t.” Madeline noticed the diamond on Claire’s hand. “Are you to be wed?”

Twisting the diamond, Claire sighed. Her smile tried to disguise the sadness in her eyes. “Oh, it’s a very long story.”

“You are too young to have a long story.”

“You’re right, I am—but I do. In a nutshell, Mr. Rawlings and I were married, we divorced, and he asked me to marry him again, and I said yes. Madeline, I’ve made a lot of mistakes—especially in the last few years. I don’t want to make another one.”

The whites of Madeline’s eyes shone like beacons in the darkness. “Madame el, I don’t know your long story. I can see you are blessed with people who love you, and in the short time I’ve known you, I understand why. When Monsieur Rawlings arrived, I saw the love and joy in your eyes. Why are you now reconsidering?”

“Oh, I’m not—I love him—I do.” Claire hoped Madeline wouldn’t notice the tears quietly descending her cheeks. She worked to keep her voice steady. “Before we marry—again—I need to know some things. I need some answers.”

“It isn’t my place, so if you don’t want my advice, I will leave.”

Claire shook her head. “I didn’t grow up with places. This way of living is part of my long story. So, Madeline, I’d be honored to hear your advice.”

“Madame el, things happen for a reason. If your long story is all happy, that’s wonderful; however, I believe there’s more to it. Some of the answers you seek—you are afraid of what you may learn, oui?”

Claire nodded.

“You love him, despite that long story, oui?”

Claire nodded again. “I do.”

“And, Madame el, he loves you. Does he know your story?”

“Yes—he knows my story.”

“What we fear is what we do not know. When something is cloaked by the darkness of uncertainty, it’s a mystery. Allowing light to penetrate that darkness makes everything clear”—she pointed out to the dark sea—“Look at the ocean. In the darkness, all you can do is listen to the wind and the waves. You ask yourself, are there creatures, boats, or untold dangers lurking? We don’t know, and then, in our minds we create perils that do not truly exist. In the morning when the sun shines and you see into the depths of the crystal blue water, or all the way out to the horizon, you know you are safe”—Squeezing Claire’s hand, she added—“In the light of day, I see your love. Please don’t allow the dark of night to hide what is right in front of you. Even if those answers are not what you want to hear, do you think they can be as bad as you imagine?”

Claire shrugged. “I really don’t know. I know I want to not think about them right now and worry about them later.”

Madeline’s voice slowed. “If that will make you feel best; however, I’ve found that the longer I put off turning on the light, the bigger the monster under my bed becomes.” Once again, she squeezed Claire’s hand and then reached into her pocket and handed Claire a tissue. “May I get you anything else?”

Claire wiped her eyes and cheeks. Miraculously, the tears served as a vent, releasing some of the pressure from her temples. Her headache wasn’t as intense. With a sad smile, she replied, “You’ve given me a lot, thank you. Have a good night.”

“Good night, Madame el.”

Enjoying the calm of the darkness, Claire reflected on Madeline’s words. If only Madeline knew the truth—at one time—that monster in the dark was actually the man in the other room. Now the monster was a woman Claire trusted. Could she ever trust her own instincts? A faint smile came to her lips as she remembered Phil’s words. He told her to do just that—listen and trust her instincts.

When Claire stood to move to their room, she saw the shadow near the end of the lanai move; instead of going through the house, Claire followed her intuition and walked toward the darkness. Just outside of their suite, Tony stepped from the shadow and gently took Claire into his arms.

His freshly showered scent overpowered the salty sea breeze and penetrated her senses. Claire loved the scent of his cologne. In the morning, she’d order some.

Tony looked down into her eyes. “I like that smile. After what I heard, I wasn’t expecting to see it.”

“How much did you hear?”

He led her to a lounge chair, sat first, and tugged Claire down in front of him. It was their talking position—where their bodies touched—their worlds connected—yet their eyes remained private. Claire felt his chest rise and fall. While she waited for him to answer, he wrapped his arms around her, hugged her chest, and splayed his large hands across her midsection. Settling against his chest, Claire felt the warmth of his toothpaste scented breath blow against her neck. Their bond held a sense of intimacy she’d never shared with anyone else. His hands on her body didn’t feel foreign—they felt right. By the time he spoke, she’d almost forgotten her question. His Anthony Rawlings—CEO tone told her that he’d contemplated his answer. “Enough—I heard that you love me and that, before we marry again, you have questions that you want answered.”

Claire nodded. “I do.” However, at this moment in time, her heart wasn’t in the asking mood. It wasn’t that she wanted the monster Madeline mentioned to grow bigger. It was that, for the first time in over a month, she felt secure. His embrace completed the release of pressure her small cry had begun. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against his shoulder and enjoyed the internal peace—never had anything felt so right.

“Do you want to ask anything?”

“I do, but not tonight.”

Tony turned her shoulders so that they were facing one another. “You aren’t concerned about that monster growing?”

Claire shook her head as their lips touched. “No, it’s not going anywhere, but I’m pretty sure it can’t get any bigger. Remember, I said I wanted tonight to be just about us.”

In the faint moonlight, Claire saw Tony’s grin. His tone was lighter, with a hit of seduction. “I do remember that”—his finger traced her lips—“I also remember something about that beautiful mouth.”

She stood with her emerald eyes shimmering and the butterflies of desire stirring deep within her. Offering her hand, she grinned. “Come and remind me.”

Tony didn’t need to be invited twice. As they disappeared into the master suite, the cares and concerns remained outside. There were cards to be revealed, and in time, they would. Theirs was a long, complicated story with a monster and a knight. What made their story unique was that these two players were the same person.

At that moment, Tony was her knight in shining armor. She’d been alone in paradise, imprisoned by the evil witch. Her future had seemed uncertain; then, out of the blue, he arrived. Just like in the fairytales, he came to her rescue, freeing her from her prison of isolation.

The rest of the world disappeared as his lips suckled the sensitive skin between her neck and shoulder. Despite the tropical heat, her arms and legs prickled with goose bumps. A familiar moan escaped her lips. With skilled hands, he eased her sundress over her head and dropped it into a pink puddle. Taking a half of a step back, Tony’s eyes scanned her exposed body. His approving smile radiated to his eyes, as dark desire swirled with the chocolate shades of love.

Seconds later, Tony fell to his knees and tenderly kissed her enlarged stomach. Fighting to remain standing, Claire exhaled and wove her fingers through his hair. Instead of enjoying the sensation of his caresses and kisses, she was momentarily overwhelmed with relief. In the last six weeks, their baby had grown, and her body had changed. “I was so afraid...” she mumbled.

Still kneeling, he looked up. “Of what?”

Though Claire didn’t want to admit her insecurity, she couldn’t look away. She couldn’t lie. “That you wouldn’t want me—that you wouldn’t think I was sexy enoug—”

The fire behind the brown raged. Her legs buckled. Suddenly, on her knees, wearing only lace panties, they were eye to eye. Still fully dressed, he framed her face with his hands. She heard a combination of pain and adoration in his voice. “How could you ever think that? My God, you are the most beautiful woman in the world. You always have been”—bending to kiss her stomach, he regained eye contact—“I didn’t think it was possible, but now, with my child inside of you, you’re even more beautiful”—Grinning, Tony directed Claire’s hand—“It should be very obvious; I think you’re incredibly sexy.”

He was right; it was obvious. She smiled and smirked. “If that’s the case—which I admit it does seem to be—why am I the only one undressed?”

“Because, you are mighty sexy, and I want to see you.”

Unbuttoning his shirt, Claire suckled his freshly shaven neck. “That doesn’t seem fair,” she purred. Her kisses moved down his chest until she couldn’t bend any lower. Sitting straight, she inhaled. “This does have its disadvantages.”

“One person’s disadvantages are another person’s advantage,” Tony said with his devilish grin melting her world. No longer did she feel large and awkward. Claire saw herself as Tony saw her. With her hand in his, he led her to the big bed, where his clothes and her panties disappeared into the pink puddle of the sundress.

Before she could consider or question, their world became one. It didn’t matter that her body and shape were changing. They belonged together.

Metaphorically—the wolf was at the door. Realistically—their life was upside down; however, in that moment, in their room, in their home, on their island, and in their paradise they had one another—it was a victory. Catherine had tried to keep them apart, and they had overcome her ploy. They didn’t know if they’d won a battle or the war. At that moment, celebration was their only goal.

“Tony?” Claire said as she nestled against his chest with the sound of his heart beating in her ear.

“Hmmm?”

“Tell me something.”

His arm wrapped around her bare shoulder. “I thought tonight was a no question night—a just about us night.”

She lifted her head, to see his face. “It is. I’m not asking about anything. I want you to tell me something.”

“Oh, you do? What do you want me to tell you?”

“I want you to tell me that we’re safe, that Catherine, the FBI, that no one can take this away from us.”

The amusement of her demand faded. She watched as Anthony Rawlings CEO emerged from the man she’d just held tight. She immediately recognized his voice; it was the one he used with business, the one that left no room for debate, the one she used to hate—it was the tone she needed. “We’re safe. No one—and I repeat no one—will ever take my family away from me.”

Claire kissed his cheek and settled back into the crook of his arm. She knew what he’d just said was beyond his control; however, she could pretend. The illusion filled her with the momentary peace she needed. Within minutes, she was sound asleep on Tony’s hard shoulder.

Be more concerned with your character than your reputation, because your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are .

—John Wooden

For the hundredth time, Agent Harrison Baldwin read the screen of his phone and wondered if he could avoid the multitude of text messages any longer. If he didn’t respond, would SAC Williams suddenly forget the tirade and possible demotion that was undoubtedly coming his way? There was no question, he deserved it. Harry had done exactly what SAC Williams told him not to do—he’d allowed the case to become personal. Harry knew that wasn’t true. The Nichols/Rawlings case hadn’t become personal—it had been personal from before he saw Claire Nichols in Italy.

Harry decided that his inability to keep his assignment professional was in part due to his own screwed up personal life. Unfortunately, he’d allowed both lives to intertwine—when it came to an FBI agent—that was never a good thing.

The best part of his personal life had been his more recent reconnection to his sister. Without a doubt, Amber was his closest family, and after his divorce, that was what he truly needed.

Throughout the history of time, Harry had been too quick to fall in love. Ilona was no exception, and when they were young and living the dream in southern California, there had been love—or so they both thought; then life happened.

Harry’s fascination with law enforcement started in childhood. He wasn’t sure how or why, yet from a young age, he knew that was the path he intended to pursue. It began with a degree in Criminology, which led him to the California Bureau of Investigation. Ilona knew she’d married a police officer and was all right with that; however, she hadn’t signed up to be the wife of an FBI agent.

Harry’s initial enquiry into the FBI was actually on a dare—a late night out with police buddies and booze; nevertheless, before he knew it, things started happening—he passed phase one and two of the testing—passed the skills tests—and received the conditional letter of appointment.

Although he and Ilona had discussed his aspirations, neither one of them fathomed the consequences or the repercussions on their recent marriage. After passing the physical test—background check—and medical exam—the goal he never expected to obtain was right in front of him.

The bureau had five career paths. Based on Harry’s education and experience within the California Bureau, he was selected for the Criminal Investigative Division (CID). This division coordinates, manages, and directs investigative programs focused on financial crime, violent crime, organized crime, public corruption, violation of individual civil rights, drug related crime, and informant matters associated with these investigative areas. Coincidentally, Agent Nichols was also in the CID.

The most daunting consequence of Harry’s dream job was the time away from his new bride. It wasn’t a gradual process—not something they eased themselves into. No—one moment, they were together every day—the next, he was gone. That first separation they endured was when Harry went to attend the FBI Academy in Virginia. He should say that, during that time, he missed his wife; however, the training was intense. During those twenty-one weeks, he lived and breathed FBI—and loved every minute of it. At least, during his training, he and Ilona could occasionally talk.

Following the academy, it’s customary for new agents to rank their desired locations for their first assignment. Ilona wanted to stay in California, so Harry made that his choice. With four field offices in the state, he used every one of his selections to accommodate his wife. Placement wasn’t solely based on preference; it was also based on need and budget. The Baldwins were both shocked when Harry was assigned to Seattle, Washington. Ilona didn’t like Seattle. The weather was too cool and rainy, and she missed her friends in California and family out East.

During Harry’s second year out of the academy, while still within his probationary period, he was selected for an undercover assignment. It was quite an honor; however, the assignment left Ilona alone again. This time, she was stuck in an area she detested and her husband was gone—totally unreachable for an undisclosed amount of time. To make matters worse, during his absence, she learned she was pregnant. Reflectively, Harry understood her isolation and depression. At the time, he was oblivious. He was too busy concentrating on the job. An undercover assignment for a junior agent was a monumental boost to his career; the experience was exhilarating, and his evaluations were stellar. Agent Baldwin loved the covert world.

When he returned to Seattle, Ilona’s pregnancy was visible. They’d had no communication during his assignment, so the pregnancy revelation was—to say the least—shocking. Harry’s initial reaction was less than positive. It wasn’t that he didn’t want kids—he’d never given them any thought. Ilona presented him with an ultimatum—his job or his family. Harry should’ve chosen his family.

He didn’t.

Before their child was born, Ilona moved back East to live near her parents, and Harry asked for reassignment to San Francisco. This time, they granted his request. Since that time, Ilona has remarried. The assignment in San Francisco made sense to Harry. It was the one place he could have his job and some family—Amber McCoy, his half-sister, lived there.

Although the two of them grew up in the same home, they weren’t close. Amber was younger, and the one with both parents. Her dad tried to fill the gap for Harry; however, until the FBI, he always felt something was lacking. Sadly, he recognized that he was no better than the man who contributed to his gene pool. Someday, the daughter he only saw in pictures would be faced with the same unmet need.

When Harry moved to San Francisco, Amber was living the dream. She had it all—except the ring. Simon Johnson and Amber were living and working together. He was a great guy, very intelligent, a wonderful entrepreneur, and excellent to Harry’s sister. Harry and Simon became instant friends. It might be safe to say Harry enjoyed Simon’s company more than he did Amber’s; nevertheless, during that time, they all became close.

Harry worked out of the San Francisco field office and occasionally left for undercover fieldwork. When SiJo started having issues with security, Harry offered his resources. Since he was employed by the federal government, he could only do contract work for SiJo. His friend, Lee, from the California Bureau of Investigation took over as head of SiJo’s security. Although Harry wasn’t officially with SiJo, he felt a connection to the company that his friend and sister were working so hard to grow.

After his divorce from Ilona, Harry wasn’t interested in a relationship with anyone else. He promised himself that his days of falling fast and hard for a beautiful face or cheeky personality were over. The FBI was his life.

It’s true—sometimes it felt as though life stacked the deck. Harry wasn’t always sure if it was in his favor or against him.

The more Harry worked with SiJo Security and spent time with Simon and Amber, the more he questioned his vow of remaining unattached. Honestly, when he first met Amber’s assistant, they were just friends; however, the more their paths continually crossed, the more their relationship blossomed. Over time, they started seeing one another—meeting Simon and Amber for dinner—going to a movie—long weekends—cohabitating.

This time, Harry entered the relationship with full disclosure. They both agreed—they were consenting adults with no intentions of a long-term commitment. Harry explained from the beginning that his work could call him at any moment, and he’d need to leave. He told Liz that their relationship could end suddenly if he needed to go undercover. Harry didn’t intend to leave another woman waiting for his return as he’d done to Ilona.

When Simon finally proposed to Amber, Harry was equally as happy. Unfortunately, Harry was on an assignment when Simon’s plane crashed. As soon as he heard and received clearance, he traveled back to California. Following Simon’s death, Harry and Liz moved into Amber’s building. Perhaps it was the loss of Ilona and Jillian from his life, but Harry had finally recognized the importance of family, and he couldn’t leave Amber alone in her time of need.

When Claire Nichols first contacted Amber, Harry remembered that his sister was upset—both by the content of the email and by the sender. Probably more out of curiosity, Amber chose to continue the correspondence. After they exchanged more emails, both Amber and Harry saw the logic behind Claire’s allegations.

The investigation surrounding Simon’s plane crash had never fully been closed. Harry knew that uncertainty added to his sister’s angst and hoped Claire’s insight into Anthony Rawlings would help his sister have final closure.

The preliminary results of the National Transportation Safety Board’s, NTSB, investigation regarding Simon’s crash centered on operator error. The agency painstakingly reconstructed the plane and looked into the flight plans. Simon Johnson was an accomplished pilot—weather conditions were ideal for flight—and there were no signs of malfunctioning equipment or tampering. The numbers didn’t add up.

As Claire’s suspicions mounted, Harry decided to take this new evidence to his superiors at the San Francisco field office. He not only took the allegations regarding Simon, but the entire recalled contents of Claire’s prison delivery. Harry had no idea that he was presenting the FBI with information on one of their cold cases. In light of the new allegations, the San Francisco field office assigned a new team to revisit the bureau’s old evidence regarding Agent Nichols’ death.

When Claire’s attorney unexpectedly contacted Amber and requested her help with relocating Claire to Palo Alto, Amber called Harry—Harry called the bureau. Since Harry wasn’t undercover at the time, SAC Williams decided—Claire would be Agent Harrison Baldwin’s new assignment. It was the FBI who recommended changing Claire’s reservations and having her travel via private plane. The bureau had multiple reasons for this change in plans—the intricacy of the case, assurance of Claire’s location, and time needed by the bureau to have their cover stories ready.

The morning Harry walked into Amber’s condominium, he wasn’t sure who he’d meet. There was the woman Simon remembered fondly—and there was the gold-digging, ex-bartender, who tried to kill her rich husband, got lucky with a pardon, and was stupid enough to burn the real evidence woman. Without question, this was an unusual assignment.

Harry understood the FBI’s interest in Claire Nichols and their hope that she could bring new information to the cold case involving her grandfather. He also knew that his assignment was one of—right time—right place. By all accounts, Harry should not have been assigned to any case that potentially involved Simon Johnson’s death—truly, the case was personal from the beginning. There was no question—even before meeting Claire—Harry wanted to prove Anthony Rawlings’ guilt.

When Liz and Harry started dating, she promised she understood his commitment to his career. Truthfully, she demonstrated that on numerous occasions. Each time Harry was called away, she’d go on with her life. She didn’t ask questions about what he did while he was gone, and if she had—he wouldn’t have been able to answer. It wasn’t that he had sexual exploits on each assignment—Claire was his first; nevertheless, Liz had shown Harry the support Ilona didn’t or couldn’t.

Understandably, neither Liz nor Harry ever anticipated his undercover assignment occurring right under Liz’s nose. The evening the SiJo plane arrived with Claire Nichols on board, Harry relocated Liz from their condominium to an apartment of her own. He told her what he’d said a million times—when faced with the ultimatum—he’d always choose his job. He also told her that Claire Nichols was just another assignment—a job. It was what he believed at the time. Initially, Liz remained supportive.

As Harry got to know Claire, her definition changed. With that change, came a change in Liz’s understanding. From Harry’s perspective he was never unfaithful. He’d told her that—while on assignment—they were no longer a couple. It wasn’t Harry’s fault that when faced with seeing him every day she didn’t understand.

For a brief moment in time—when Harry believed that he could be a father once again —Harry told Amber something he never thought he’d say. He told his sister that he wanted the job at SiJo; instead of pretending, he wanted to be the President of Security Operations and planned to resign from the FBI. Harry wanted to give this child the father he hadn’t provided for his own daughter. At that moment, sitting with his sister alone in the hospital cafeteria, Harry decided the only part of the undercover case he cared about was keeping Claire and their child safe from Anthony Rawlings.

Again, life happened. This time, the damn cards were definitely against him. Claire informed him that he wasn’t the father of her baby. In retrospect, Harry didn’t know for sure if his decisions that afternoon in the hospital cafeteria were based on Claire or the baby. Now that he and Liz were reconciling, he leaned more toward the later; nonetheless, he still wanted to keep Claire and her child safe.

SAC Williams reviewed the case and Harry’s actions. He decided Agent Harrison Baldwin needed a break from the bureau; he wasn’t fired or demoted; instead, the FBI put him on temporary medical leave and required him to attend counseling sessions. These sessions with a bureau psychologist were supposed to determine why he overstepped his professional bounds with Claire Nichols. While he did as they said, it made Harry laugh. This was the first time he’d ever gotten personally involved with an informant; however, he’d been around the bureau long enough to know that it wasn’t a unique situation.