Free Shadow Man by Cody McFadyen

you’ll fuck it up.”
    Some part of me registers that an outsider, listening to this, would be aghast. They would not be able to believe that James is saying what he is saying. I’m inured to it—to some extent. This is James. This is how he is, and what he does. Besides, it’s working for me. I’m feeling something stir inside. The old coldness, what I always used to use to handle James, to rein him in. I grip on to this and let it leak into my eyes.
    “I’m here. I’m not going away. Deal with it, and give me all the details. Stop fucking with me.”
    He pauses for a moment, examines me. I see him settle back. He shakes his head once in disapproval, but I know that he’s given in.
    “Fine. But I want it on record that I think this is a blatant violation of Bureau policy.”
    “Duly noted.” My voice is a knife edge of sarcasm that dulls against his indifference.
    “Good.” Now I see his eyes unfocus a bit. He doesn’t have a file in S H A D O W M A N
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    front of him, but that computer brain of his is putting all the facts at his fingertips. “Her body was found yesterday. They figure she was killed three days before that.”
    I start at this. “Three days?”
    “Yes.”
    “So how was the body found? Where?”
    “The SF cops got an e-mail. It included an attachment, some photos. Of her. They went over to check it out, and they found the body and the child.”
    My heart thuds in my chest, and I sense my stomach acids churning. I feel a sour burp just waiting to get out. “Are you telling me that her daughter was there for more than three days with her dead mother?”
    My voice comes out loud. Not a yell, but close. James looks at me, his face calm. Just relating the facts.
    “Worse. The killer tied her to her mother’s corpse. Face-to-face. She was tied like that for the whole time.”
    Blood rushes to my head, and I feel faint. The burp comes up, silent but awful. I can feel its taste in my mouth. I put a hand to my forehead.
    “Where’s Bonnie now?”
    “She’s at one of the local hospitals, under guard. She’s catatonic. Hasn’t said a word since they found her.”
    Silence at that. Callie breaks it.
    “There’s more, honey-love. Things we need you to hear before we land. Otherwise you are going to be caught flat-footed.”
    I dread what is coming. I dread it like I dread going to sleep at night. But I grab on to myself, hard, and shake. I hope no one notices. “Go ahead. Hit me with all of it.”
    “Three things, and I’ll just lay them all out, one after the other. First, she left her daughter to you, Smoky. The killer found her will and left it next to the body for us to find. You’re named as the guardian. Second, your friend was running a sex site on the Internet that she was personally starring in. Third, the killer’s e-mail to the cops included a letter addressed to you.”
    My mouth hangs open. I feel like I have been beaten. As if, instead of speaking, Callie had grabbed a golf club and whacked me with it. My head is spinning. Through my shock, I register a very selfish emotion, 54
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    one that shames me, but one I also grab on to with a death grip. It is fear of losing it in front of my team. Of how that will make me look, especially to James. Selfish, yes, but I recognize it for what it is, the tool I can use to get myself under control.
    I grapple with the shock and sorrow that are struggling for dominance and manage to push them aside enough to speak. I’m surprised at the sound of my voice when it comes out: flat and steady.
    “Let me take this point by point. On the first one, I’ll deal with that myself. Let’s address the second one. You’re saying she was some kind of . . . Internet prostitute?”
    A voice pipes up. “No, ma’am, that’s not accurate at all.”
    It’s the young kid from Computer Crimes. Mr. Earring. I look at him.
    “What’s your name?”
    “Leo. Leo Carnes. I’m on loan here because of the e-mail, but also because