“I will.” I wouldn’t, of course. Reyes didn’t relish the fact that he was part demon. I preferred to think of him as part fallen angel. It sounded so much more exotic. Exoticer?

A part of me couldn’t help but notice that Garrett and Reyes had been working together a lot lately. Much like Osh and Reyes. And, hell, even Angel and Reyes. I could only hope he was paying Garrett what he was worth—his weight in gold.

I offered him one last wave and then jogged to Misery. I had a few more people to thank, not the least of whom was my FBI friend, Kit. And my sister, Gemma. And Uncle Bob. I saw him every day now that he lived right across the hall, but I had yet to really thank him for everything he did. Just like Garrett and Osh, Ubie and Cookie had put their lives on hold to be with me in New York. I owed them all so much.

I decided to call Kit on my way back to the office. I let the Bluetooth blast the sounds of her voice all through Misery’s innards.

“Special Agent Carson,” she said when she picked up. She was such a professional. I could be professional. Hadn’t Cookie and I just been professional that morning? Wasn’t that proof?

“Hey, SAC,” I said, ditching the professionalism.

“Hey, Davidson, how you doing? I haven’t heard from you since you got back.”

“You mean since you stopped that guy from blowing my brains out in New York?” That guy really liked his shotgun.

“Yeah, well, you saved that family, so let’s call it even.”

“Deal.”

While we were talking, I heard a woman screaming in Dolby 5.1 Surround Sound, and I couldn’t figure out if it was coming from Kit’s office or from Misery. Misery didn’t usually scream in a feminine voice. She usually just rumbled, and at a much lower octave, unless I was jamming to Halestorm.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“You called me, remember? I’m in my office. And next time you call, you might not want to tell the operator you’re a Top Ten wanting to turn herself in.”

“Got your attention, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, they take that kind of thing pretty seriously around here. Lucky for you, we don’t have a woman on the Top Ten Most Wanted right now.”

“Shouldn’t be a big deal, then, huh?” I glanced around Misery, checking all the nooks and crannies just to be certain. The screams were definitely coming from the general vicinity of Kit’s office. “Hey, who’s screaming?”

“Screaming?”

“In your office. Who’s with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Someone is screaming. Loudly. You can’t miss it. Unless…” Clearly there was a departed woman in Kit’s office. One who was utterly pissed at someone named Louie. “Who’s Louie?”

The next time she spoke, her voice was soft and a bit muffled as though she were covering the receiver with her hand. “The only other person in my office is Special Agent Louie Guzman. He’s here on a case from D.C. Why?”

I could hear the curiosity in her voice. This was getting fun. I narrowly missed a white Honda that had decided it had the right of way. The driver flipped me off. What the hell? I was going straight at the intersection, and she was turning left. And she had the right of way just because the light turned red just as we entered the intersection?

“I still had the right of way!” I yelled, flipping her off back, but she’d hightailed it across six lanes of traffic before those who actually had the right of way T-boned her.

“Sometimes I can’t believe you still have your license,” Kit said to me.

“Right? It’s a mystery.”

“So, the screams?” she said again, all hushed like. “Agent Guzman is on the phone.”

“Then whoever he’s talking to can really project. It’s like she’s right there in your office.” I was teasing, of course. If no one but me could hear the woman, she was departed and yelling at the other agent.

“Yeah?” Kit asked. “What’s she saying?”

“She’s threatening, mostly. Telling Louie to get his head out of his ass and find her body. And she’s doing it all in a Southern accent, so it’s kind of funny. Mucho grande mocha latte. Extra whipped cream. Extra hot,” I said to the barista on the other side of the counter. I’d stopped for sustenance.

Kit seemed to perk up. “Where are you?”

“Satellite.”

“Can you swing by?”

“Sure.”

“And bring me one of those, too.”