Free Mariposa by Greg Bear Page B

long bar to their seats, her eyes were like flints and her cheeks flushed cherry.
    "We need another war, to filter out pricks like that," she said. "What can I get you?"
    Periglas's breath hitched. Sharp lines framed his mouth.
    "Nothing," he said. He rose from the stool and leaned toward the bartender, practically in her face. "I've watched young pricks like that get filtered ," he said. "I'll put up with happy bullshit any day."
    He swung around and marched toward the exit.
    Rebecca grabbed her purse and followed. She watched him with a fascinated grin, which she tucked away when he looked back at her, replaced with polite interest.
    "Apologies, Rebecca. I usually don't show my bitter card until the second date. Let's stalk the evening like wolves," he said, arms swinging. His looseness came from dissipating anger, but also from self-assurance. He was happy to be here, expected nothing in particular, happy to be with her—happy in his own skin.
    Not manic, not nervous, not showing off in the least.
    He was just that way.
    He glanced aside like an embarrassed boy as they came out under the cobalt sky. "So—let's find a little, out-of-the-way bistro and gorge on tiny plates of overpriced food."
    Rebecca focused on what she could see of his face and smiled again, this time openly—she smiled a lot around Periglas. This was what she could expect: good talk from a decent man. Some of his stories were doubtless more interesting than hers.
    Life at sea, camaraderie and discipline, engines and weather—anything but the creeps and monsters she had had to pursue, capture, help convict—and make miserable—throughout her entire career.
    And yet there were always more.
    She still kept three pictures in her wallet of a few of the worst that got away. Murderers and rapists—portraits of monsters rather than children.
    Perhaps the monsters were her children.
    "Forget the bistro," she said. "Let's get room service."
    Periglas appeared genuinely surprised. For a terrible moment, Rebecca felt like a teenager pushing too far, too fast.
    "All right," he said.
    "We're civilians, mostly," she said. "They owe us time away from the world."
    "No explanation necessary," Periglas said. "Lead on."
    Rebecca's phone wheedled. She looked at the number. This was a call she had to take.
    "My room," Rebecca said, and passed him a hotel key folder without the key.
    Periglas drew his hand over his eyes, fingers spread. "I am beguiled," he said.
    "Give me ten minutes," she said.

    Rebecca closed the door to the room and set her purse on the nightstand. Biting her lip, more nervous than she had been in months—she returned the call she had been hoping would come.
    A recorded voice answered. "Central California Adoption Services. Our offices are closed for the day—"
    She punched in the code for Dr. Benvenista. The doctor's high, musical voice came through after the third chime.
    "Hello, Rebecca. How's Los Angeles?"
    "Nice," Rebecca said, her throat full. She wasn't used to being so scared. "Busy."
    "Fresno is scalding. We have great news. You've passed the third round. Though I do wish you had a good man in your life. We could sail you right through."
    "I'm working on it," Rebecca said, embarrassed and hopeful enough to stretch the truth.
    "Mary is doing quite well. One inspector expressed lingering concern about the race issue, but I think that is not a major objection at this point. You are a stable person and well-motivated, and you are certainly qualified, and I have said so to the committee. Who better to protect a little child than a mommy who's an FBI agent?"
    Bureau. On furlough.
    "Thank you."
    "There will be more news tomorrow, and perhaps the paperwork will clear by the end of the week. Until then, please keep in touch."
    Rebecca expressed her thanks and relief, said goodbye, and closed the phone—just as she heard a polite rap on the room door. She opened it, her chest tight, stomach a-flutter. Too much all at once.
    Tough to keep up her