Mac's ears perked up the moment he heard the clicking of her heels. He'd gotten used to that sound over the past few months.
He'd also gotten used to the look of sheer hatred that often twisted the former CTU agent's normally pretty face.
"What the hell is this?" she asked, throwing the morning's newspaper at him.
He caught it easily and opened it, "Right, we talked to this guy yesterday. He's not our guy. Good morning, by the way," he said dryly as he tossed the paper aside and went back to his paperwork.
Michelle didn't leave, he wasn't really surprised though, and her eyes darkened as she came closer, "Do you find this funny? Do I not have to explain again that I expect to be kept up on every step of this investigation? I am FBI and I…"
"And I'm in control of murders and homicide in this city…not the FBI." He stood now and faced her, "I might also remind you that you are a part of this investigation because I agreed to let you be, and I can change my mind at any time."
"This is the murder of an agent."
"And ex-CTU agent who wasn't doing any government business as far as we've been able to find. It has nothing to do with you or the FBI, but I've allowed you to be a part of this investigation anyway, despite your personal involvement."
"Excuse me," she said, back straightening further, if possible, "What exactly is my personal stake in all this?"
"The fact that you think Robert Marcicelli was killed by the same person that killed your husband."
Michelle's eyes showed a moment of deep pain and sadness, but the rest of her face remained stone cold, "That is none of your business."
"Yes, it is Ms. Dessler. If you want in on this investigation, you do it my way. You pass any information you have on to me and if I want to, I'll pass what I have on to you. If I don't, I won't. Take it or leave it."
She stepped even closer, close enough so that he felt her breath on his face, "I want to know the next time you have a suspect. I've dealt with much scarier men than you Detective Taylor, much more, so don't think I'm going anywhere."
She stayed where she was for a moment, daring him to look away, to give in to her. For a crazy, insane, out of his mind moment he considered grabbing her arms, yanking her against him, and taking out his frustrations on that full mouth of hers. Instead, he held firm, "I'll call you if something comes up. Now, if you don't mind I actually have work to do."
She nodded, turning on her heel and stalking out.
He shook his head and muttered under his breath, "Good day to you too."
He knew it was a bad idea to involve her in the case, but he'd let her in anyway.
He didn't want to admit that something in his gut burned when he'd checked up on her and found out about her husband. How could he not understand what it was like? You lose the person you love more than anything to an unknown attacker, one that might never be pinned down, one that might never really pay.
How could he shut her out of an investigation that might give her answer?
How could he shut her out at all?