In The Bleak Midwinter: A Special Agent Constance Mandalay Novel by M. R. Sellars

up the FBI’s food chain, which meant DC. Either way, when
your boss’ boss is the one handing you an assignment, you don’t ask
why. Not out loud, anyway.
    Still, Agent Johnson was definitely going to
owe her one for bailing on this. She didn’t care if he had a bad
case of the flu or not. Tit for tat, that’s how it worked. He got
out of it, and she got stuck with it, so he owed her. Moreover, if
he was responsible for putting her name on the short list as a
backup, his payback was going to be a bitch; namely her, and she
had no problem bearing that moniker when she needed to.
    What really bothered her was that the bureau
had plenty of agents working from the Saint Louis headquarters, and
she’d pulled more than her share of crappy assignments over the
years. Wasn’t it someone else’s turn to work a holiday for a
change? And why just her? Shouldn’t she at least have another agent
from her squad along for the ride? Two sets of eyes were always
better than one.
    Or maybe it was just that she wanted to have
someone to commiserate with?
    Again, these were just more examples of
questions and comments that you didn’t give voice, which is why
they were now trapped on the inside with the rest of her thoughts
and making a confusing din between her ears. On the flip side, it
was possible she should be considering it a feather in her cap that
the SAC, and possibly even someone in DC, had picked her out of the
pool of agents. Unfortunately, the end of that feather was sharp,
and right now it was poking through her cap and into her head in a
most annoying fashion.
    Constance ripped open a creamer and poured it
into the steaming mug of coffee. Then she tore the tops from a pair
of sugar packets and dumped them in as well. The caramel clouds of
diluting cream were already losing their billowy shapes as she
dunked her spoon and gave a quick stir.
    She lifted the cup by its handle, then pursed
her lips and blew across its rim before taking a tentative sip. It
was still a bit too hot, so she placed it to the side for a moment.
Letting out a quiet sigh, she experienced the moment of
self-condemnation she had already known was coming.
    She needed to stop feeling sorry for herself.
She knew the score the day she entered the academy at Quantico. She
had chosen this career because it’s what she wanted to do, and that
hadn’t changed just because she didn’t like the timing of an
assignment. Given some of the things she’d witnessed in her time as
a field agent, she could easily find far better reasons to hate her
job. But she didn’t. Sometimes it gave her nightmares, yes. But she
was never one for walking away from a puzzle.
    Especially not until it was finished.
    She had to take the bad with the good, and
she knew it, even if it meant not spending the holidays with Ben.
She sighed again, but this time it was out of resignation mixed
with a tenuous sort of contentment.
    “Everything okay, hon?” the waitress
asked.
    Constance looked up, not quite startled but a
bit surprised since she hadn’t heard the woman return. “Yes… Fine…”
she replied. “It’s just that it’s already been a long day.”
    The woman gave her a knowing nod as she
placed a short glass in front of her. “Tell me about it. Here’s
your grapefruit juice, hon. Your breakfast should be out in just a
couple of minutes.”
    “Thanks.”
    When she was once again alone, Constance
pulled out her cell phone and thumbed in a speed dial code, then
tilted her head and tucked the device beneath her hair and up
against her ear. After the third ring the speaker clicked and she
heard a gruff voice say, “This is Ben Storm. You’ve reached my
phone. I ain’t here. Leave a message.”
    “Ben, it’s me,” she said after the beep.
“Looks like we have to put our plans on hold. I’ve been sent out of
town on an investigation and I’m not sure exactly when I’ll be
back. I’ll call you later.”
    Constance hung up then glanced at the time on
the small