Free The Maze by Catherine Coulter

changing your major to Forensic Science. ‘Fingerprinting, for God’s sake,’ he told me. ‘She’ll be wasting herself lifting some goon’s damned fingerprints from a dead body!’”
    â€œYou know there’s lots more to it than that. There are a good dozen specialties in forensics.”
    â€œYes, I know. He wanted you to go to law school, of course. He still thought there was hope after you finished your Master’s degree in criminal psychology. He said it would be helpful in nailing scum. Your dad, the judge, is always forgetting that I’m a defense attorney.”
    â€œI just changed my mind, that’s all.”
    â€œThat’s what I told the FBI guy who came doing a background check on you. I figured if you wanted to go into the FBI, then I wasn’t going to stand in your way.”
    What did Douglas mean by that? That he could have told the FBI that she was unstable, that she’d gone around the bend seven years ago? Yes, he could have said that. She wondered if anyone had told the FBI that? No, if they had, then she wouldn’t have been accepted, would she?
    â€œI know my father was positive when the agents came to interview him.”
    â€œYes, he told me you’d given him no choice. I said good for you, it was your life and he should keep his mouth shut if he ever wanted to see you again. He was pissed at me for a good month.”
    â€œThank you for standing up for me, Douglas.” She had assumed at the time that the people doing the check on her background just hadn’t considered it all that important. But they had, evidently, and they’d asked questions. “I had no idea, but I am grateful. No one dredged up anything about that time. Do you know that you haven’t changed? You really are looking good.” He was thirty-eight now. There were just afew white strands woven into his black hair. He was very probably more handsome now than he had been seven years ago. She remembered that Belinda had loved him more than anything. Anything. Lacey felt the familiar hollowing pain and quickly picked up the champagne bottle. She poured each of them another glass.
    â€œYou’ve changed. You’re a woman now, Lacey. You’re no longer a silent kid. You still have a dozen locks on your door, but hey, this is D.C. I’d probably have a submachine gun sitting next to the front door. What does the FBI use?”
    â€œA Heckler and Koch MP-5 submachine gun. It’s powerful and reliable.”
    â€œI have trouble imagining you even near something like that, much less holding it and firing it. Ah, that sounded sexist, didn’t it? You spoke of change. As for me, perhaps I haven’t changed all that much on the outside, but well, life changes one, regardless, doesn’t it?”
    â€œOh yes.” She was the perfect example of what life could do to a person.
    â€œYou’re on the thin side. Did they work you that hard at the Academy?”
    â€œYes, but it was a classmate of mine—MacDougal—who worked me the hardest. He swore he’d put some muscle on my skinny little arms.”
    â€œLet me see.”
    He was squeezing her upper arm. “Flex.”
    She did.
    â€œNot bad.”
    â€œMy boss works out. Don’t picture him as a muscle-bound, no-neck bodybuilder. He’s very strong and muscular, but he’s also into karate, and he’s very good. I was on the receiving end of his technique once at the Academy. Just the other day I saw him eyeing me. I don’t think he liked what he saw. I’ll bet he’ll have me in the gym by next Tuesday.”
    â€œBoss? You mean this Savich character?”
    â€œI suppose we’re all characters in our own way. Savich is a genius with computers. One of his programs helped nail Russell Bent. He’s the chief of the unit I’m in now. I was very lucky that he asked for me. Otherwise I would have ended up in L.A. chasing