Chapter 8

Deja vu. Grace wished it could have been something else that caused it, some other man, but she was stuck in the CSIS offices in Chicago with Chuck Finley sitting in the same room where she held Sam three months earlier. It was only temporary, until the CSIS agents came from Ottawa to escort him on a private flight. It didn't matter, because the scenario was almost the same, except Sam was telling the truth. Finley simply used lies to attempt to misdirect her.

The phone rang as she was about to leave her office for round two with Finley. "Agent Chatham. Hello?"

"Hi Grace, it's me, Sam Axe."

Her breath caught for just a moment. She never expected to hear from him again, not after so much time had gone by. "Sam! Well, I think saying this is a surprise is an understatement! How are you?"

"I'm great, and you?" When they got the pleasantries out of the way, he continued on course. "The reason I'm calling is, I was trying to find that file I had on Anson. I thought I got it back, but..."

"No, it's still here. Some of your other personal effects, things that Fraser and Ray confiscated when they searched your apartment, are also here."

"The photo album."

"Yes. A few other things, too." He must have missed the album, because other than the file it was the only thing he mentioned.

"So you have it, or did it get lost in a box somewhere?"

She laughed. He knew well how evidence came and went. "Oh yes, I have them here in my office, as a matter of fact. Do you want me to mail all this to you? I can send it by courier for safety's sake with the files."

"No, that's okay. I'm heading up there to interview a guy that Fraser and Ray arrested. It looks like he knows something about Anson, but he's being really stubborn about talking. Says he won't talk to them, but he'll give me or Mike the information. So I'm flying up there today."

"Really. When will you be in town?" The wheels were going in her head. Maybe he would have time to go to dinner.

"My flight lands around four, so by the time I get off and get a cab to my hotel, check in...I'll be free by five-thirty, six." She heard the tone of his voice change as he asked, "Were you thinking of dinner?"

She smiled. "Yes, I was. I figure I owe you."

"Oh, so will we upgrade from just water to water and crackers?"

Grace threw her head back against her seat and laughed. "Sam, I love your sense of humor. You'd make a great Canadian."

"Except I don't like the cold. Would that disqualify me?"

"Definitely. Too bad." She sobered and leaned forward. "Listen, I've got to get back to what I was doing. Just let me know where you're staying, and your cell number, and I'll let you know when I'm done. Then we can arrange something."

"Sounds great, Grace." He gave her the information and said, "Looking forward to seeing you again."

"You too." After she hung up, Grace felt as giddy as a school girl and had to restrain herself. Sam was just in town on business, not really to see her! But he was taking the time, and he said he was looking forward to it. What else could she infer from that? Plus, she now had his cell phone number and could call him any time. She sighed when Cindy, the receptionist, knocked on her door frame. "Yes, Cindy?"

"Mr. Finley is getting quite loud in the interview room," she said.

"I'll be in there shortly. Is the Director in his office?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Terrific. I'd like him to accompany me on this one. If he can't get Finley to talk, I don't know what we'll do. Probably throw him back to the Americans and let them have him for awhile." She got up and walked back to the interview room, but not before stopping in to see the Director.

The last time Sam landed in Chicago, he was handcuffed and restrained in his seat. This time, he wished he had some handcuffs, some child sized ones to restrain the kid in the seat behind him. All the way from Atlanta he kicked the seat, whined, or just made a general nuisance of himself. His mother didn't help matters, and when Sam asked her nicely to get him to stop, he would have thought he'd slapped her in the face. This is not starting the trip off on the right foot!

As soon as the airplane parked in the gate and before the gangway was attached, Sam was out of his seat and pulling his suitcase and suit bag out of the overhead bin. His laptop case and suit bag weighed down his shoulder. In his right arm, he held the wool coat he bought for the trip. He came prepared for cold weather this time. When he was finally free of the plane, he hustled to the taxi area to get a cab. The plane came in late, and when he glanced at his watch he realized that he had only a half hour to be on the far side of his estimated time of arrival at the hotel. He didn't want to keep Grace waiting.

Why am I so excited to see Grace, my captor? I should still be mad about that, maybe just a little, right? But she was only doing what her government demanded her to do. She just happened to be working with bad intel. It happens all the time. Sam could find a bunch of reasons why he should forgive her, but one more than any stood out: he liked her. She was a good team member, and he still recalled how much he enjoyed their night working together. Maybe while he was in Chicago, he'd have another opportunity, or a chance to see her off the clock. Not that it would ever amount to much, but it sure would be fun.

He stood at the check in desk signing his name on the paperwork when he heard her. "Sam."

A smile started to form on his face as he turned, and when he saw the light in her eyes and the beaming grin she gave him, his mirrored it. "Gracie!" He enveloped her in his arms, and she squeezed hers around his shoulders.

"It's so good to see you, Sam!" She gave him a quick kiss on the lips before pulling out of his grip.

"Sir, your credit card."

"Oh, yeah. Thanks!" He turned and picked it up off the counter, wondering where on earth that kiss came from and why she did it. Careful, Sam, remember that you have to watch yourself with this woman. He grabbed the keycard and turned back to Grace as he picked up his things. "I have to take this upstairs, and then we can go."

"Need help?" She smiled.

"No, I'm good. Thanks." He felt awkward about it, but asked anyway. "You want to come along? No sense in you standing here in the lobby waiting."

She went with him, and the closer he got to his room, the more uneasy he felt. Usually, when he took a woman to a hotel room, it was for far different reasons, and there were feelings involved. He'd been battling feelings like that since the last time he saw her. He wondered what was going through her head.

"I just want to get my suits hung up, and then I'll be ready." He unlocked the door, opened it and allowed her to go inside first. Then he unpacked the suit bag as quickly as he could so they could get out of there. "Any suggestions for dinner?"

"I'd say my place, but I don't have anything that doesn't require a microwave." She chuckled. "You like Brazilian? There's this awesome place on the river."

"It's been a long time since I've had Brazilian cuisine." She apparently decided that she wanted to spend a lot of time with him, because a full-blown Brazilian meal could take hours if done correctly. "But do you have the time for that?"

"Do you?"

"I have to meet Fraser and Ray at nine tomorrow."

They settled on gourmet pizza at a place not far from the hotel. As they waited for their order, Sam studied Grace. She leaned forward and her shoulders slumped a little. That was not the picture he had of her before.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Just a really long day, no, make that long week. We've been hanging onto Finley, trying to get him to talk. He's been nothing but trouble, and quite frankly, I don't know why we're wasting the time on him. Let the RCMP take care of him when he gets to Canada, that's what I say." She paused and broke apart a breadstick. "The Director agreed. We're shipping him up to Ottawa tomorrow."

"From what I understand, the Montana police have some good information on his whereabouts while he was in that state, and Fraser told me the RCMP has everything they need to go forward with prosecuting him for the kidnapping. So I'd have to agree, it was a waste of your time. More wine?"

"Oh sure, I need to relax." She let out a breath. "Sam, I used to love my job, and then they wanted me to start interrogating. I'm an investigator! I look for clues, I don't beat them out of people!"

"I guess I got the kid glove treatment then, huh?"

"You know what I mean!" She took a long drink of her wine. "Sorry, I'm just really tired. I'm not at my best, but then, you haven't really had a chance to see me at that, have you?" Her laugh was hollow.

"It's okay. I know what that's like." He held up his wine glass. "Here's hoping tomorrow is much better."

"Well, if I can ship Finley back to the Americans, or up to Ottawa, it'll be a great day."

"I'm surprised he hasn't wound up somewhere for prosecution. It's been almost three months since we caught him."

"I know. The American authorities in Miami wanted him, then the Montana authorities wanted him, and we got him next." She paused. "Sheesh, with all the extraditions, that guy probably has a nice pile of frequent flier miles!"

Sam's laughter died, and he focused on her over his glass. "Did you get those stitches out?"

"Yes, I did. The doctor was impressed with your work." She smiled. "I barely have a scar there. Say, did Michael and Fiona come along?"

"No, just me. We were in the middle of a case when I got this call from Ray. I don't think Fi would have come along even if she had to. That one blast of cold weather was enough for her." He grinned. "Mike wouldn't care if it was Siberia. Me, I much prefer Miami, but business is business." He paused, playing with his fork in the remnants of his meal. "Besides, there was another...attractive...reason for coming to Chicago." His eyes rose to hers, full of emotion. He dropped his fork onto the plate, and it clattered against the stoneware. When he could finally speak, his voice came out soft. "I haven't been able to get you off my mind, Gracie."

Her breath stuck in her throat, but she managed to work around it. "I've been thinking about you a lot, too. It's crazy, considering how things started between us." Grace's phone rang and she sighed heavily. "Hang on a second. Hello?" As she listened, a look of concern, then horror, crossed her face. The conversation was short, but whatever it was had her upset.

"Is everything okay?" Sam asked when she hung up.

"That was another agent at the office. We have two agents who watch Finley. He was having dinner, something they usually get from a restaurant, and he appeared to have a heart attack. They transported him to the hospital."

"Hopefully under heavy guard."

"Of course." Her hand fumbled as she put her phone back into her purse. "Sam, we've never had anything like this happen before with a detainee."

"Is he still alive?"

She nodded. "Well, hopefully he'll survive."

Sam folded his hands over his plate and an intent look crossed his face. "It's either an attempt to escape, or someone tried to kill him. That would be my bet. And I wouldn't be surprised if it was Anson. Cleaning house, so to speak. Finley's one big rat that's a liability the longer he sits in jail or an agency holding cell."

Grace stared at him. "This Anson guy has a long reach, doesn't he?"

"If you looked at my notes and that file, you'd know that. Trying to keep up with him, it was all turning into one big mess. But once I get back to Miami with it, and Mike is ready to start weeding through everything with the CIA's help, we'll hopefully stop him."

They finished off the wine and the pizza with small talk, getting their minds off work and continuing to dance around their feelings. As much as he would have liked to lie about it, she was never out of his mind for more than a day. Whenever he was alone, he caught himself thinking about her, wondering if she ever gave him a second thought. That short kiss earlier told him that she must have thought about him at least once. And the fact that she didn't seem to want the night to end, despite her weariness, reinforced his suspicions.

She walked with him to the hotel and they stood under the canopy looking into each other's eyes. "I had a great time tonight, Sam. Thanks."

"I did too. But why thank me? You bought dinner!"

"Thanks, for giving me a chance to show you I'm not a...a disagreeable woman."

"I'm convinced I just caught you at a bad time. Now let's get past it, and..."

She interrupted him and placed her gloved hands on his coat lapels. "I'd like to see you again before you leave."

"I'd like that. Give me your number, and I'll call you."

She smiled, pulled a business card out of her purse, and pulled back one lapel to drop it into the interior pocket. Then she folded into place and patted the spot. "There you go, no excuses except for work."

"No excuses. Night, Gracie." He dipped his head and kissed her, just a simple little kiss, but it left him feeling warm all the way up to his room.

Sam blew into the 27th Precinct the next morning, a little early for his meeting. At least it wasn't a cold wind. Spring was coming to the Windy City. He approached the front desk and asked for Ray Kowalski.

"He'll be right down." The woman behind the counter said with a gravelly voice. "Sign here, and here's your visitor's badge."

Sam wrote his signature, scooped up the badge and clipped it to his suit. Just then, Ray appeared.

"Hey, Sam! How's it goin'? Not too cold out there for ya, is it?"

"Ray, it's 72 in Miami right now. What do you think?" Sam replied with a laugh. He moved away from the desk and followed Ray upstairs to the detective squad room. "I really hope this guy was worth the trip, brother."

"Have you seen Grace?"

"Last night, after I got in. Why? You two..."

Ray barked out a laugh. "No way, I have enough Canadians to deal with at work! Speaking of Canadians, Fraser's gonna be a little late. The Dragon Lady's got him doing something. Not that it matters much, anyway." He glanced at Sam. "Want some coffee?"

"What's going on, Ray?" He stopped while Ray poured them each a cup, and he took his. "Why do I have the feeling that I'm not gonna like what you've got to say?"

"Okay, your guy, the one you were supposed to interview, he was bailed out this morning."

"What? I thought he was being held for questioning," Sam exclaimed. "By me!"

"He was, but he had a bail on him, and someone posted it."

"Probably Anson," Sam muttered. "You got an address on this guy? Maybe I'll just pay him a little visit." He set his cup down without touching it.

"I'll, uh, get the address and we'll go together. I'm sorry about this, Sam."

"I know how this works. It happens. It just seems pretty odd that someone would bail him just when I wanna talk to him."

Ray nodded. He moved to his desk and Sam followed him, glancing around the station, taking note of its dinginess. From the faded walls to the ancient office furniture, it was dark and depressing. Even the loft, at its run-down worst, had more charm. He couldn't handle working in a place like that. He noticed a woman sitting at her desk watching him, smiling, her brown eyes sending him signals.

"Hey Ray, who's your friend," she asked as Ray put on his jacket.

"Oh, Frannie, this is Sam Axe, Sam, this is Francesca Vecchio. She's our civilian aide around here." He pushed Sam gently toward the door. "See ya later, Frannie!" When they were out of earshot, Ray said, "One piece of advice, Sam. Don't let Frannie take an interest in you. She won't let go. Fraser's still dealing with her giving him the eye and falling all over herself trying to do stuff for him. She used to be really bad, but eventually she realized he wasn't interested. Since then, she's latched onto a few others. So beware."

"Hopefully I won't be around long enough for her to have a chance!"