Shades of Gray (36 page)

White silk from a wedding dress or the red velvet from a baby’s first Christmas coat.” Ellis paused, perching his glasses back on his nose.

“That’s the best you can hope for, Danny. That your life turns out like that patchwork quilt. That you can add some bright, sparkling pieces to the dirty, stained ones you’ve got so far. That in the end, the bright patches might take up more space on your quilt than the dark ones.” Ellis stared at Danny, making sure he was listening. “That’s the point.” When Ellis had started talking, Danny had almost tuned him out.

He didn’t see what a quilt had to do with the question he was asking.

But the thing was, as he listened, he could see
his
quilt, the inky black and bruised purple patches spreading out like some dark and treacherous ocean. But tucked in among all that swallowing darkness there was a tiny speck of silver, from an essay contest he’d won in tenth grade, so proud of his cheap, plastic plaque; a small crimson patch from those first months with Amanda, when her laugh had sparkled with joy; a crisp flash of yellowy-green that marked his friendship with Griff; and the brightest piece of all, shimmering golden silk threaded with starlight… Miller.

“Yeah,” Danny said quietly. “I think I get it.” Ellis nodded, then reached out and patted Danny’s shoulder with a gentle hand. “Come on. Time to get back to your cases.” DANNY had made it through a whopping ten pages of the Supreme Court case when he finally hung it up for the night at nine o’clock. He was the only one left in the building; Jill had given him her key to lock up with when she’d left at seven. Danny turned off lights as he went, making sure the coffeemaker was unplugged and the back door was Shades of Gray | 281

locked before he left through the main entrance.

As he fought the wind, heading toward the ll station, his stomach gnawed at him, reminding him he’d skipped dinner. He mentally reviewed what he had at home in his kitchen, resigned to the fact that it was probably going to be another cereal night, unless he went all out and made himself some macaroni and cheese.

“Hey, you,” a voice called from a shadowy doorway as he passed.

Danny glanced to his left, his eyes picking up a skinny figure beckoning him closer. He kept on walking, hoping to make it to the station just as a train pulled in; he wasn’t in the mood to wait.

“Hey, you want anything? I got some good stuff,” the doorway-lurker urged, leaving his position to walk alongside Danny, his smile revealing a row of rotted teeth.

“No, not interested,” Danny responded, keeping up his quick clip until he left the man behind on his patch of sidewalk.

Danny wasn’t tempted to buy any drugs. That had never been his weakness. But he felt like an addict all the same, shot through with sharp, electric cravings when his thoughts turned to walking into his cold, quiet apartment at the end of this long day, his fingers itching to make the call. Dial the number he still had memorized and probably always would—his insurance against the future, his own dark and terrible safety net. Maybe Hinestroza would be glad to hear from him.

Maybe he could fall right back into the slot he used to occupy, all these months just a hiccup in his rightful life. There would be such relief in being the Danny he knew so well, the one who let people down and didn’t have a future and knew exactly what tomorrow held because it was never anything better than the day that had come before.

But it was more difficult to disappoint people when they expected something of you, expected more from you than to show them your worst at every turn. Danny didn’t want to betray Jill’s trust, her matter-of-fact faith that he had it inside him to change. And if he returned to his old life, what would that say to Miller about the sacrifice he’d made—that he’d given up everything for a man who didn’t give a damn, a man who, after everything they’d been through, would still 282 | Brooke McKinley

choose Hinestroza and a life in the shadows.

Danny stomped his feet against the concrete platform, trying to keep warm as he waited for his train, listening for the distant rumble that would carry him home. He wanted to make a promise to himself, to Miller, and to Jill that he would never make that call, never jump into that safety net riddled with jagged holes. But such a promise felt too big for him, beyond what he was capable of giving. Its very vastness made him feel smothered and weighed down with leaden expectations.

So, instead, he blew into his cupped hands, heating his icy fingers with steamy breaths, and swore that at least for tonight he would not disappoint anyone who was trying so hard to believe in him. He’d go home, eat his solitary dinner, and fall into bed. His phone would remain in his pocket, silent and dark. Not tonight, he vowed, not tonight.

MILLER’S right hook connected with a dull thud, the impact traveling up his arm to explode in his shoulder. He ignored the throb and struck out again, harder this time, grunting when his fist connected.

“Shit, Miller, you working out or trying to kill that bag?” Miller wiped a forearm across his sweat-streaked brow. “I took too much time off from this place,” he told Ben, the manager of the gym where he had worked out regularly before Danny. Ben had owned the place for years, and as far as Miller could tell, he’d never put a cent into the dump beyond installing two boxing rings, a dozen bags, and a couple of run-down treadmills that no one ever used. If you wanted a massage or herbal tea, you went elsewhere. “I’ve got to get back into the swing of it.”

“Fair enough. But don’t break your fist while you’re at it.” Miller gave Ben what passed for a smile these days and went back to punching the bag. He wondered what exactly he was trying to get back into the swing of—his old life, his hiding from the world, his guilt?

He’d had such high hopes for himself that night with Rachel, as Shades of Gray | 283

though one moment of courage would reverse a lifetime of cowardice.

And what a fucking joke that had turned out to be; since that night he’d not taken one more step forward, had let his mess sit untouched and filthy while life went on without him, while Danny went on without him. Just that thought alone warranted a half-dozen hard hits to the bag, sweat flying from Miller’s hair as he gritted his teeth through the final punches.

Virtually every part of his life was in limbo. He’d been on administrative leave for months now. He knew Nash was dragging out the investigation as a form of punishment because, although he could feel that there was something more to the story of Danny Butler and Miller Sutton, he couldn’t put his hands on it. Since official censure would likely not be coming, Nash was handing down his own vigilante sentence.

And Nash had been running his mouth, too; Miller was convinced. The few times he’d been to the office, the other agents had given him a wide berth, everyone looking at him with wary eyes, pity just below the surface of their smiles. He still wasn’t sure he wanted his job back, but he felt stuck in place, his FBI badge a form of concrete shoes he wasn’t sure how to shed.

Miller stopped for a few groceries on the way home, knocking back a bottle of Gatorade on the short walk from his car to his building’s fire escape. He was already at a loss as to how he was going to fill the long hours until night, watching TV and staring at a book without reading it having both lost their allure weeks ago. When he turned the corner of the building, he found Colin waiting against the metal railing, his eyes hidden behind his own pair of mirrored shades.

“Hi,” Miller said cautiously. “What are you doing here?” Colin pulled off his sunglasses, tucking them into the interior pocket of his suit jacket. “Nash closed the investigation. You were cleared of any wrongdoing.” Colin’s voice was heavy, relief absent from his tone. “We need to talk.”

“Okay.” Miller led the way, Colin’s footsteps clanging behind him on the steps, shushing lightly at his heels as they walked down the 284 | Brooke McKinley

carpeted hall. Miller unlocked his front door and tossed his keys onto the table, gesturing Colin toward a seat while he put his milk and beer in the fridge.

Colin sat down in the chair nearest the door. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands. He looked like he was steeling himself for something unpleasant, and Miller’s stomach contracted into a small, cold ball.

“Have you talked to Danny Butler lately?” Colin asked.

Miller’s whole body jerked, nothing he could control. His insides reacted to the sound of Danny’s name like a beehive poked with a stick, the nerve endings under his skin buzzing with anticipation. “No.” He paused, sitting down across from Colin. “Why?”

“I heard he’s in Chicago. He got a job at Legal Aid.” Chicago. “What kind of job?”

Colin shrugged. “Part of some grant. He helps out around the office; I don’t know any details.”

“How did you find out?”

“Patterson. She’s the one who recommended him for the job, through his probation officer.”

“Patterson,” Miller repeated, dumbfounded. He couldn’t have been more shocked if Colin had told him Nash was responsible for Danny’s new employment. Now that Miller’s eyes were opening to the infinite variations within people who seemed so one-dimensional on the surface, he wondered if he’d ever stop being surprised by them, by their capacity for conflicting emotions and deeds. “Well, I guess she owed him,” Miller said, “after cutting him loose the way she did.”

“Could be she did you a favor when she cut him loose,” Colin said.

“What?” Miller asked in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

“You tell me,” Colin said, pointing at him with a stabbing finger, and Miller realized exactly how angry Colin was, how hard he was pulling back on his own fury. “If we had gone ahead to trial, would Shades of Gray | 285

Butler have made it off the witness stand without being ripped to shreds? I know something was going on between you two. Christ, Nash never even saw you and Butler in the same room together and he knew it too. You think any defense attorney worth a shit wasn’t going to be able to sniff that out in under five minutes? Give me a fucking break.”

“Colin, I—”

“So just lay off Patterson, would you? Because the Hinestroza case was sunk long before she fucked over Butler. What the
hell
were you thinking?”

Miller slumped back on the sofa and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, hard. This felt different than facing Rachel, worse in some way he couldn’t define. People cheated on their lovers every day, screwed up their relationships. Maybe not because they were gay, but still. But putting your own desires ahead of justice? That was embracing a darkness he hadn’t known lived within him.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen. We just… the feelings were real, Colin.” Miller spoke against his wrists, his eyes still hidden behind his hands.

“I don’t care if he was the goddamn love of your life! You threw away years of work, Miller, and not just your own efforts.” Miller pulled in a deep breath, the air stinging in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he managed. He almost laughed at how pathetic it sounded. “I know you’ve been covering for me.”

Colin’s voice softened slightly. “I don’t want to be a jackass about this. But the bottom line is, you got involved with an informant, a witness. You got involved. And that cannot happen. I don’t think there’s any way back from a mistake like that. I don’t think the FBI is where you belong anymore,” he continued, his voice tired. “And I think you know it too.”

“Am I being fired?” Miller asked, meeting Colin’s eyes.

“No. But do the right thing here, please.”

“It’s hard,” Miller said. “Hard to walk away from the job, even when you know it’s not the place for you.”

286 | Brooke McKinley

“You were a good agent, Miller, damn good. But sometimes life gets in the way of the job and you have to make a choice. You made yours; now you’ve got to follow it through.”

“Are you going to tell Nash?”

“No. If I thought it was going to make a difference in the Hinestroza case, I already would have. But telling him doesn’t change anything. It only gets us both in trouble.” Colin sighed. “They expect you at work Monday. Why don’t you come back for a little while, just until you figure out what you’re going to do. They won’t assign you to anything major at first, so that gives you a window.” Miller nodded. “Okay.”

Colin looked back down at his hands, his fingers lacing together and then apart. “Miller, why aren’t you with Butler? I know you well enough to know you’re not a guy who acts on a whim. You said what you felt for him was real. You put your whole career on the line for him, so why the hell aren’t you with him?”

Miller turned his face away, looking out the ceiling-high windows. It had started snowing in the minutes since they’d come inside, fat, lazy flakes taking their sweet time falling from the sky. Just one more reminder of Danny. “Something happened that day with Madrigal.” Miller’s voice sounded hazy and far away, as though he were outside in the snow, speaking through the winter-cold panes of glass. “Hinestroza was—”

“No!” Colin exclaimed. “No. Don’t tell me that!” Miller’s eyes moved back to Colin, taking in the thumping vein in his temple, his hands laced again, the knuckles tight with tension. “The time for telling me that has come and gone. It’s too late. What can I do with something like that now?” Colin demanded. “I don’t want to know! Jesus!”

Miller thinned his lips against the urge to keep talking, to speak the truth in the hope that Colin would say he’d made the right decision, that his choice had been the one any man would have made. But like so much of what had passed between Danny and him, this was their secret, Shades of Gray | 287

their burden to shoulder, and the weight couldn’t be shared by an outsider.

“All right.” Miller nodded. “All right. I’ll be at work on Monday.”

“Fine.” Colin stood up, shoving his hands into his pockets as Miller walked him to the door.

“Thanks for what you did,” Miller said. “I know you risked a lot.” Colin glanced at Miller over his shoulder, gave him a sharp nod.

And Miller understood his friendship with Colin had come to an end.