Nina closed the door to find Shawna suppressing a laugh. “I like your neighbors.”
“You don’t know the half of it. They’re like one big dysfunctional family.”
“So you’ve told me. You could afford a swanky condo downtown, you know.” Shawna’s eyes widened and she added quickly, “No offense.”
This time, Nina laughed. “No offense taken. I like it here. This is the kind of apartment building I usually lived in growing up.”
She didn’t add that she’d deliberately chosen a place in the Latin corridor to remain connected with her community. Bouncing from one family to the next during her formative years, she sometimes felt detached from her heritage. To make up for the loss of a family, she studied Spanish in school and hung out with the Guatemalans, Puerto Ricans, El Salvadorans, Peruvians, Mexicans, and Colombians that made up most of the Latino population in the DC area back then.
After Nina moved into the apartment building, Mrs. Gomez, who was from Chile, occasionally acted as a surrogate mother. She taught Nina a great deal about food and cooking, and about Chilean wine, which Mrs. G claimed put “that French stuff” to shame. Nina would have bet a month’s paycheck Mrs. G had never tasted French wine.
Cutting into the casserole, Nina steered the conversation back to its previous course. “You came to talk about Jeffrey Wade?”
Shawna grew serious. “When you went through the applicant process, he’d just been detailed out of BAU.”
A polite way to put it. Some said he ended up at the bottom of a bottle, others said he lost thirty pounds he couldn’t spare, and a few claimed he spent some of his vacation days in an institution. She wasn’t sure how much was true, but the damage to his reputation had been profound and ongoing.
Shawna stared into the distance, apparently lost in thought. Nina sensed a logjam about to burst. Knowing better than to interrupt, she silently dished the fragrant food onto two plates and carried them to the table.
Finally, Shawna continued, “There’s another reason he didn’t recommend you for hire. I’m one of the few people who knows the whole story.”
Nina dropped heavily into her chair, a sense of foreboding overtaking her.
“He had a little sister,” Shawna said. “She was taken when she was fourteen years old. The police found her after a few days. Physically, she was okay, but . . .”
Nina looked down at her hands. She had always wondered why Wade had gone into the child-crime section of BAU, a relatively new position when he took it. At least she had an answer for that now. “What happened to his sister?”
“She was twenty years old when she took a lethal overdose of her meds.” Shawna shook her head. “According to Wade, she was never the same after what happened.”
A puzzle piece snapped into place. “He thinks that’s going to be me.” Nina made it a statement. “And that my job with the Bureau will be the trigger.”
Shawna raised a placating hand. “Look at it from his perspective. An applicant comes through with a history of abuse and violence worse than some of the victims he’d worked with.” She drew in a breath. “Worse than what happened to his sister.”
“So he holds it against me that I got my shit together and became a cop?” She pointed her fork at Shawna. “I was in law enforcement for four years without any problems before I ever applied to the FBI.”
“He thought he was looking out for you.” Shawna cut into the enchiladas.
“And he didn’t want any blowback if he signed off on my mental fitness, and five years later, I went nuts.” She let out a derisive snort. “He’s worse than I thought.”
“No, it’s not just that.” Shawna hesitated. “Your file indicated that you can be . . . difficult. You don’t always work well with others. You tended to work independently, even as a cop. That’s not what we do in the Bureau.”
Nina couldn’t argue the point, and she hated knowing there were secret files out there. Files that detailed everything about her life from the time she was a month old. Files that were kept from her when others could see them. Most children didn’t have paperwork documenting every aspect of their behavior and situation throughout their lives. Foster children did. Foster children described as “difficult” had the thickest files of all.
“You know Wade was my partner when I was assigned to the BAU,” Shawna said, changing the subject. “But what you don’t know is that a few years after I was promoted out of the unit, we became . . . involved.”
“Wait, what?” She could not imagine Shawna with Wade.
“Like I said, he was a different man back then.” Shawna placed a bite in her mouth, apparently considering how much to share. “We had already broken up when you applied to the Bureau, but he knew I had encouraged you to submit an application. He felt obligated to tell me he refused to support your instatement.” Her features hardened. “So I went straight to the Director.”
“I know,” Nina said. “And there are some in the Bureau who know you intervened and hold it against me. No doubt Wade is one of them.”
Shawna laid down her fork and narrowed her eyes at Nina as the mingled scents of cumin and onion filled the air between them. “I did it because the Bureau needs you.” She tapped her chest with a forefinger. “Needs us.” When Nina didn’t respond, she raised her voice. “The FBI is still mostly a white male agency. When I first got hired, they had barely accepted women as full agents. Think about what it took for a black woman to get through the door in those days. But like you, I decided to outwork everyone else to prove the ones who doubted me wrong. I took the shit posts, shit assignments, and shit equipment. I sucked it up and made it my mission to get into a position where I could help pave the way for others. That’s what I did for you, and I won’t apologize for it. Not to you. Not to anybody.” She was breathing hard.
Shawna never talked about the early days in her career. The discrimination she’d faced. The glass ceilings she’d continuously shattered on her way to the top tier of US law enforcement.
“I didn’t see it that way,” Nina said quietly. “Thank you.”
Shawna gave her a nod of acceptance before continuing. “I told the Director we shouldn’t hold the fact that you were a survivor against you. I reminded him you’d been a cop for four years with nothing but commendations in your personnel file.” Picking up her fork, she stabbed her enchilada like it had somehow offended her. “Then I used the nuclear option. The Director knew I’d been Wade’s partner years earlier.” She lowered her gaze. “I called Wade’s judgment into question. Told the Director of the FBI that—as a former profiler—I thought Wade’s personal issues had skewed his perspective regarding you.”
“Damn, Shawna.”
“I turned on my partner—a man I had once loved and still deeply cared for—because I believed in you, Nina.” Her eyes moistened. “And I would do it again . . . because it was the right thing to do.”
“That must have been painful.” She reached out to squeeze Shawna’s hand, humbled by the faith her mentor had shown in her. “What did the Director say?”