The team used its usual channels to hunt down Captain Charissa Sosa, but the usual channels took longer than normal, and it wasn't till another three months had passed before they were able to pin her movements enough to determine when it would be best for Face to approach her.
It was an unspoken agreement that Face confront Sosa alone. Murdock made noises to the effect that he should have back up, that he have the support of his best—crazy—friend in case this was the most elaborate, ridiculous ruse ever created in the history of mankind. Like Sosa was channeling Alan Abel.
Face refused to let him. He needed to talk to Sosa by himself. She insisted he contact her, not anyone else.
And deep down, he knew if he went alone and this was a trap, only he'd be caught. Self-preservation was a trait Face honed quite well, but for something as foolish as this, he'd not risk his team.
B.A. drove the rental van to the condo complex they'd discovered she kept a place. Face steeled himself, nodded, and got out. He caught the big man's eyes; B.A. nodded back. Hannibal didn't say anything either. When Murdock tried, Face slammed the door shut before he could hear anything and left.
He heard the vehicle drive away, but didn't watch it go. He switched his cell phone to vibrate only without looking at it and made his way through the courtyard to her place.
Her place. This wasn't a place he'd ever seen before, but it was hers. Similar to the place she'd had off-base way back when. When they were dating. When things got a little more heavy, a little more serious, than he'd ever planned. More than she ever planned, evidently, because she ran like a rabbit when he breathed the mention of commitment.
Then they met up again, years later. They'd bantered—that's what exes do, right?—they danced around each other—that was even more stereotypical—he'd handcuffed her to a photo booth in Germany—that was a little iffy, on the 'exes' front—she agreed to help bring down Lynch.
She'd been assigned to hunt them. Then her superiors took her off the case. Then she was back on, they discovered through Hannibal's sympathetic military contacts. She almost caught him that time, Face recalled. That time a few years ago? He'd been at a club, a rare night off, and she'd been there. Completely unexpected, completely by chance.
She didn't have back up. She did still have a pair of hand cuffs, which didn't get used.
He'd swept back into her life for one night, an old fire rekindled. Her ember for him hadn't died completely either . . .
. . . she tried to stop him, tried to tell him if he turned himself up, if the team turned themselves in, she could help. She knew more people now, could better circumnavigate the system—
Face finished pulling his pants on and left. They heard she'd been taken off the task force charged with finding them again.
So he'd gotten away from her twice now, and here he was, walking up to her front door, intent on ringing the bell.
He didn't know if he had three times luck, but he would soon find out.
He saw a shape darken the peephole in the door, and then Charissa threw it open.