The Heart of the Jungle, стр. 54

As it always did when Frank spoke so casually, Jason was seized by a sense of unreality. The openness, the candor---they were so at odds with the man's incredibly gruff exterior.

Curt had blazed this particular trail, though, and because of that, things that were often taboo in other families were commonplace to Frank. Curt would never have tolerated the avoidance and careful politics that were the rule in Jason's family.

"Bradley was all wrong. I have a knack for making those kinds of connections."

"And this client of yours, there's something there, isn't there?"

Despite the anxiety, despite the dour mood, Jason laughed. "Curt," he said, as if uttering an epithet.

"Said he'd never seen you quite so smitten with anyone. Whatever the hell that means. The words that kid uses." Frank's eyes sparkled as he thought about his son. There was unashamed love and pride reflected there. "This is more than a case for you, though. Even without a gossipy kid in my back pocket, I could see it written all over your face. What's the story?"

There was no way Jason could lie to a seasoned federal investigator.

Frank would have instantly seen through any kind of subterfuge. "No story, at least not anymore. I killed any chance I had of that."

Frank leveled a finger at Jason and jabbed it in his direction.

"That's another thing you get from your dad. That temper of yours. Let me guess, you got pissed and started running off at the mouth."

Jason nodded sadly, guiltily. "He would never have run off if I hadn't." Jason leaned back in the chair and looked up at the older man miserably. "Sometimes I can't control myself."

"You put on a tough front, but you've always been too fluffy for your own good. You get too close to things, make it all personal. It's both a credit to you and a curse." He smirked. "Don't I know it? Your dad's the same way. When we were partners, worst part of the job was mopping up that asshole's tears."

"Dad? My dad? We're talking about Max Kingsley, right?"

Frank laughed. "The one and only," he said, his tone softened by some fond nostalgia. "Just like you, he took everything, and I mean everything, to heart. Every success, every failure, every case, no matter how big or small, Max made it personal."

Jason's lips turned up in a small smile of disbelief. The man he knew was laconic and reserved. Frank's assessment contradicted a lifetime of personal experience as the son of Max Kingsley. He thought about denying it again, but after a moment, a memory resurfaced that made him reconsider.

"When I graduated the academy, we had a father-son talk." His thoughts were far away as he remembered that night. There had been a look of pride he had never seen in his father's eyes as he hoisted a beer in honor of his son. "That was the first and only time in my life I can remember having a serious conversation with my dad. I could tell he was proud of me, but he was worried too. He warned me that I would see things, experience things, that could leave deep scars. He told me to keep work at a safe distance---no matter how hard that might be."

Frank pursed his lips thoughtfully. "He knew from experience," he said. "Damn good agent. The best. You know why, Jason? You know what made him special?"

Jason shook his head.

"He made it personal. Exactly what he was warning you not to do. Every case, big or small, like I said. But you pay a price for that kind of investment. He retired early. Damn job was killing him. Why do you think he never tried to talk you out of leaving the unit?"

"I always thought it was because he was disappointed in me. Ashamed," Jason responded.

"It was because he was relieved, son. Watching you was like looking in a mirror." Frank leaned forward on his elbows and answered the skepticism in Jason's eyes with firm resolve. "The way you beat yourself up over that mistake, the funk that put you in... scared the shit right out of him. Your dad loves you---if you had a kid, you'd understand. Watching your child suffer like that... it's damn hard. The job took its pound of flesh, kid, and your dad---he knew exactly what that felt like. He kept quiet because he never wanted to see it again. You were making it all too personal, just like he had."

"But it is personal, Frank. Don't try to tell me it isn't."

Frank frowned. "I won't, then. Because you're right, it is. It's always personal. Thing that's different about me is I can put it away when I hang up the badge for the night. Your father never could. It's a lucky thing he had your mother to look after him. She's the second-best woman in the whole damn world." There was a twinkle of humor in his eyes as he spoke. "My Ann," he said, grinning, "she's just a little bit better." He made a pinching gesture with his thumb and forefinger. "But only by a hair."

Jason chuckled. He was comforted by the easy familiarity and warm memories the long-standing joke brought to mind.

Frank's expression turned serious. "We need you back, Jason. There are more freaks out there than ever before. The country needs good men like you on the job. You're one of the best we had. You owe it to yourself---to all those kids---to get back to doing the good work."

Jason hesitated. Chris had said something similar to him the night before, and it had made him think. Though his instinct was to protest, somehow, time or acceptance or just talking about it had dulled the edge of guilt. All of his reasons for leaving the CACU seemed less significant now than they had in those early days after Gerry had gone free.

He wasn't quite ready to