Short Excerpt

      He’d slicked his hair to one side, just as he always did when he visited her. Not a single strand out of place. His chosen suit of the day deepened the streak of green in his left eye while the scar cutting through his eyebrow hinted at a much rougher lifestyle than he presented when he came in here. Into her space. Like he was a different person. Dark hair matched a well-kept beard, putting him somewhere in his late thirties, she guessed.
      Because that was all she had. Guesses. These past two years together, him visiting twice a week, without fail, had been solely to understand the connection she shared with a killer she’d never met. His personal life—what he did outside these walls, if he had a wife, a family, a hobby—hadn’t been permitted to come between them. No matter how much she’d wanted to break that barrier—to give her something to hold onto and rely upon—he’d kept his distance.
      Like the good FBI agent he was supposed to be.