"But his car? A man's car is sacred, especially when he's young."
"Oh, whatever," Kate said with an uncaring wave of her hand. "It was a fifteen-year-old car with dents and stains on the upholstery. It wasn't a Corvette."
"Still … "
She shrugged. "He shouldn't have screwed with my relationship. Dylan is my oldest brother, and sometimes he thinks he's like a second dad to the rest of us. But we have a father, and we don't need another one."
"Burke is the same way." Emma looked at Devin. "Burke is my oldest brother. I'm one of eight."
"And I thought Kate's family was big."
"My family is more of a yours, mine, and ours scenario," Emma explained. "My mom had my sister Nicole and me. She divorced my dad and married Jack Callaway, who was a widower with four boys. We were all really small when it happened, so it wasn't that difficult to merge the families. Then my mom and Jack sealed the deal with the birth of twins."
"More twins?" He looked back at Kate. "They obviously run in the family."
"Yeah, and somehow they come at the end, which my mom always says is a good thing, because if she'd had twins first, she might not have had so many other children," Kate said. "Oh, and when she says that, she is definitely talking about me being the handful, not Mia. She was the perfect child."
"Not perfect, but quieter," Emma put in.
"True. My sister was sick a lot when she was really young. She had severe asthma and other respiratory problems. If she caught a cold, she'd end up in the hospital. Eventually, she got better, and her immune system got stronger. But for a lot of years she was pretty frail. We all watched over her, worried about her. She kind of hated that. Now, she's as strong and independent as the rest of us."
"Is she the first to get married?"
Kate nodded. "Yes, she is. The youngest goes first, which takes the heat off my older siblings, especially since Mia is bringing a stepchild into the family. My mom is thrilled to have a grandchild."
"The first of many, I'm sure," Emma said.
"Not like your family," Kate said. "There's a baby boom going on."
As Kate and Emma talked more about the pregnant women in the family, he couldn't help but think how normal their conversation was. He couldn't remember the last time he'd talked about anything that didn't have to do with fire or historic buildings or arsonists.
But it wasn't just the hunt for Sam's killer that had kept him from those kinds of conversations; he didn't have the extended family Kate had. And his friends were scattered around the country. His job had been his life for almost a decade.
He hadn't been wrong when he'd told Kate the Bureau would change her. She might think she could juggle everything, but he doubted she could. He certainly hadn't been able to. Then again, maybe she could do it. Maybe she could keep her job and not lose herself.
Emma pushed back her chair. "I need to get back to work. Thanks for lunch, Devin. I will look into everything we talked about, and I'll be in touch."
"I appreciate your help," he said.
"Well, I haven't helped yet, so save your thanks."
"Just hearing me out was a welcome change."
She nodded, then gave Kate a quick hug.
"Remember, Em, don't tell anyone in the family I'm in town yet," Kate said.
"I told you I wouldn't," Emma said. "But you won't be able to fly under the radar for long."
"I just need a couple of days so I can concentrate on this case and not get roped into pre-wedding plans."
"Got it."
As Emma left the table, Kate glanced over at him with an enquiring look in her eyes. "Well, what do you think about Emma?"
"I'm guardedly optimistic."
She raised an eyebrow. "That excited, huh?"
"For me, that's a big change. It's not in my nature to react to anything but reality," he added. "Even Emma said she hasn't done anything to help us yet, except come to lunch."
"She will help us. Emma is very passionate about her job. And she will fight for what's right. It's something I've always admired about her."
"I can see why the two of you get along so well. You have similar interests."
"We do, but we also both get along with everyone. When you're in a big family, you learn to accept everyone for who they are. So, what's next?"
He'd been thinking about that. "I'd like to go by St. Bernadette's."
"You haven't done that already?"
"I have," he admitted. "But I just did a drive-by. I didn't go into the school. Now that the fire department has cleared the scene and school is back in session, I'd like to talk to the staff in the counseling office since that seemed to be part of the target."
"Good idea. And you'll probably get a little further with an FBI agent at your side."
"Probably," he admitted.
She gave him a teasing smile. "Should I say it again?"
He didn't have to ask her what she meant. "Please don't." He tossed his napkin on the table and stood up. "Let's get out of here."
"Okay, partner, whatever you say."
* * *
When they got to the high school, Devin showed Kate the still-blackened wall where the fire had leapt out of the Dumpster. But a new Dumpster had already replaced the old one and was in its original position by the cafeteria. The broken window in the counseling office had also already been replaced.
"It's almost like it never happened," she murmured.
"I suspect there's a little more damage inside from what Emma told us."
She looked around the quad of the high school. There were only a few students wandering around. It was after three and the kids who weren't on the baseball or soccer fields or in the gym were probably on their way home. "I haven't been here in a long time," she murmured. "Not since my senior year of high school. I dated a kid who went here. He took me to his prom. That seems like a million years ago."
"What high school did you go to?"
"St. Ignatius."
He nodded. "I should have figured. Catholic family."
"Very Catholic. One of my uncles is a priest. And I have a great-aunt who is a nun." She gave him a thoughtful look. "What about you? What's your religion?"
"I was baptized Catholic, but I haven't been to church in a long time."
"There's one right over there," she said, tipping her head toward the chapel that adjoined the high school. "We could take a few minutes if you want to go to confession."
"I have nothing to confess."
"Nothing, not one little thing?" she teased.
"My confessions don't need to be made in what looks like a closet. I can have my own personal conversations."
She nodded, not surprised Devin wasn't into organized religion. "Sometimes I wonder how you lasted so long in the FBI," she said.
He raised an eyebrow. "What does that have to do with the confessional?"
She realized she'd made the jump in her own head. "It doesn't. I was just thinking that you don't like structure and ritual, whether it's in the church or the government. So how did you last in such a rigid organization as the FBI?"
"To be honest, I don't know. I guess when I was younger, I was more willing to follow without question, to jump when I was told to jump, to play the game I'd volunteered to play."
"To be your dad. That was part of it, right?"
"Definitely." He dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I wanted to see what had taken my father away from me all those years. Maybe I wanted the job to be worth it, not just for me but for him, for what it had done to our family."
She was taken aback by Devin's words, by his self-awareness, by how much he'd shared with her in such an unexpected way.
He looked just as rattled by his admission. Clearing his throat, he said, "Let's go inside and see if we can talk to someone in the counseling department."
As she followed Devin into the school, she wanted to tell him that the job was worth it, but what did she know? She only had one year under her belt, and she had to admit that she hadn't spent much time with family and friends in that year. But it didn't have to be an all-or-nothing job-did it?
She was still pondering that question when they entered the main hall.
The counseling office was to the right. The door was open, and inside a man was replacing damaged drywall. There were tarps thrown across the filing cabinets and the desk and there were obvious signs of fire and smoke damage. The scene made the arson cases she'd been reading about feel more real. Glancing at the bookshelves, she saw the charred remnants of college guides, reminding her that the last time she'd been in an office like this was when she was deciding what college to go to, what career to pursue.