Jason stopped smiling. “Wyoming.”
“Yes.”
“Your home in Wyoming.”
“Technically my mother’s home, but yes.”
“And you’d be staying there too?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Right,” Jason said.
“I’m lost.” Sam did seem perplexed. “What is it you don’t like about this plan? I was under the impression you wanted to spend a little more time together.”
“I would. Of course.”
“Well?”
Jason glared at him. “We both know it’s completely impractical. You only came up with this solution because you know how much I want that—to have a little time to ourselves.”
“Yes. I did. Of course. What’s wrong with that?”
“Because. Because you’re profiling me.”
“Huh?”
Sam’s astonishment was kind of comical, and it flustered Jason—who was already uneasily aware he was neither at his best or most logical. He said defensively, “You’re exploiting what you see as my weaknesses to manipulate me into doing what you want.”
Astonishment gave way to amusement which, to add insult to injury, Sam belatedly tried to swallow. He said gravely, “That’s a little, er, operatic, don’t you think? ‘Exploiting your weaknesses’? Does it not occur to you that I also want a little time together? That I see this is a way of giving us both what we want? Maybe what we both need?”
“You’re saying that once we’re in West World, you’re not going to find urgent cause to return to Quantico or fly out to Seattle?”
“I give you my word.” Sam said it with perfect sincerity.
Jason raised skeptical eyebrows. “And what will you be doing while I’m resting and recuperating?”
“I haven’t had a vacation in seven years. Nobody’s going to give me a hard time about taking some personal leave.”
“Seriously?”
“You don’t believe me?”
“It doesn’t sound like the Sam Kennedy I know.”
Sam studied him. “Aren’t you the guy always telling me I need to learn to trust the people under me? That I need to stop micromanaging my team? That I need to learn to delegate?”
“Yes. Aren’t you the guy who said I didn’t know what I was talking about?”
“I’m sure I phrased it more diplomatically.”
“Actually, n—”
“Anyway, maybe some of what you said is starting to sink in. As you keep pointing out, the other BAU chiefs don’t fly around the country at the drop of a hat. There’s no reason I can’t monitor most of these situations long-distance.”
Jason was torn. In normal circumstances there was nothing he’d like more than a chance to spend extra time with Sam. But these were not normal circumstances. Even putting aside the stress of knowing that someone was out to get him, the timing was not great. He was buried under his current caseload, which included the acquisition—again!—of looted antiquities by a private museum in Los Angeles, a faked-art heist at the home of a well-known film director, and the reopening of the 1973 cold case robbery at the Natural History Museum. Frankly, Fletcher-Durrand was the least of his headaches. As one of the only two ACT agents on the West Coast, he was never working less than fifteen cases a day, but art crimes were on the rise, mirroring the jump in legitimate art market prices.
“Look.” Sam’s tone was almost—and uncharacteristically—coaxing. “You need time to rest and recover. Stafford SO and the Bureau need time to figure out what’s going on. We need time together.”