of beer. “This’ll help those nerves.”
“Thanks,” Dawn said as she reached for the mug, but
the senior officer’s voice stopped her.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded of Jim.
“What do you think I’m doing?” Jim shot back.
“I’m giving the poor girl a beer. I think she’s earned the damn thing.”
“During an investigation, you’re giving a girl who
looks barely nineteen a drink?” Agent Hart answered for his partner. “That
seems a tad irresponsible of you, sir.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass how irresponsible it seems,”
Jim shot back at him, his grizzly side showing through. “She’s worried sick
about her friend, and you fools aren’t doing anything to help her with that. If
a beer calms her down enough to remember something that might help, I think the
fact that she’s a few months under twenty-one isn’t going to hurt nobody.”
“The law is the law,” Agent Hart argued, his
stubbornness only irritating Jim more.
“Enough!” Agent Nash stopped them both before either
of them did something they’d regret. “This is ridiculous. None of these people
are suspects and she can have a beer if she damn well wants to, got that?”
He might have been younger than his fellow agents, but
Agent Nash held his head high and his shoulders back as he roared at them.
Everything about him commanded not only respect, but an overwhelming show of
dominance that reminded Dawn of the rutting bucks she’d seen the few times her
dad had taken her out hunting. His stance, his voice, even his eyes told the
room he was in charge, and anyone questioning that fact would regret it.
“Now,” he said once he had command of the room, “I
said I would like to speak to Miss Garrett privately for a minute, and I mean
to do just that. Hart, Connors, I believe these gentlemen could have seen
something that may add to our investigation. Perhaps your time would be better
spent talking to them rather than chewing out a traumatized young woman over a
single glass of beer.”
Agent Nash’s suggestion was taken as a command, and
Dawn offered him an appreciative look. If she had to talk to any of the three
agents, she was glad it was him. Even though they’d only spoken briefly, there
was something about him that made her wonder if she might just be able to trust
him.
“We can use Jim’s office,” Dawn said as she led the
agent through the galley door that led into the kitchen.
“That’ll do just fine,” Agent Nash said, but he might
have regretted that after he saw the space.
Jim’s office was small for one person, but with the
two of them inside, the door barely had room to close. Jim only had space for
one chair, and Agent Nash gestured for Dawn to take it before he leaned back on
the table that doubled as a desk.
“Please,” Dawn said as she sipped the beer that was
still in her hands. It wasn’t until she’d sat down that she realized her grip
on the frosty mug was so strong that her knuckles were turning white. She had
to force herself to relax her grip, and she gently stretched out her fingers
while she thought of what to say.
“You were there last night,” she finally settled on.
“You saw Courtney leave with that guy. You can’t tell me that you don’t think
he had something to do with this.”
It took Agent Nash a moment to reply to her, and he
wouldn’t meet her eyes until he settled on what to say. “There isn’t any
evidence, not yet at least, to indicate his story doesn’t check out. He dropped
her off outside her house and went home. Until we have more to go on, there
isn’t much the FBI can do.”
“You can’t believe that, though,” Dawn insisted.
“There has to be something you can do. A stakeout, or a warrant, or something.”
“The FBI’s hands are tied unless we have more to go
on.” Agent Nash’s words were firm, but his green eyes were almost apologetic as
Dawn’s gaze caught his.
“What if I got you more to go on?” she offered.
“Thanks,” Dawn said as she reached for the mug, but
the senior officer’s voice stopped her.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded of Jim.
“What do you think I’m doing?” Jim shot back.
“I’m giving the poor girl a beer. I think she’s earned the damn thing.”
“During an investigation, you’re giving a girl who
looks barely nineteen a drink?” Agent Hart answered for his partner. “That
seems a tad irresponsible of you, sir.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass how irresponsible it seems,”
Jim shot back at him, his grizzly side showing through. “She’s worried sick
about her friend, and you fools aren’t doing anything to help her with that. If
a beer calms her down enough to remember something that might help, I think the
fact that she’s a few months under twenty-one isn’t going to hurt nobody.”
“The law is the law,” Agent Hart argued, his
stubbornness only irritating Jim more.
“Enough!” Agent Nash stopped them both before either
of them did something they’d regret. “This is ridiculous. None of these people
are suspects and she can have a beer if she damn well wants to, got that?”
He might have been younger than his fellow agents, but
Agent Nash held his head high and his shoulders back as he roared at them.
Everything about him commanded not only respect, but an overwhelming show of
dominance that reminded Dawn of the rutting bucks she’d seen the few times her
dad had taken her out hunting. His stance, his voice, even his eyes told the
room he was in charge, and anyone questioning that fact would regret it.
“Now,” he said once he had command of the room, “I
said I would like to speak to Miss Garrett privately for a minute, and I mean
to do just that. Hart, Connors, I believe these gentlemen could have seen
something that may add to our investigation. Perhaps your time would be better
spent talking to them rather than chewing out a traumatized young woman over a
single glass of beer.”
Agent Nash’s suggestion was taken as a command, and
Dawn offered him an appreciative look. If she had to talk to any of the three
agents, she was glad it was him. Even though they’d only spoken briefly, there
was something about him that made her wonder if she might just be able to trust
him.
“We can use Jim’s office,” Dawn said as she led the
agent through the galley door that led into the kitchen.
“That’ll do just fine,” Agent Nash said, but he might
have regretted that after he saw the space.
Jim’s office was small for one person, but with the
two of them inside, the door barely had room to close. Jim only had space for
one chair, and Agent Nash gestured for Dawn to take it before he leaned back on
the table that doubled as a desk.
“Please,” Dawn said as she sipped the beer that was
still in her hands. It wasn’t until she’d sat down that she realized her grip
on the frosty mug was so strong that her knuckles were turning white. She had
to force herself to relax her grip, and she gently stretched out her fingers
while she thought of what to say.
“You were there last night,” she finally settled on.
“You saw Courtney leave with that guy. You can’t tell me that you don’t think
he had something to do with this.”
It took Agent Nash a moment to reply to her, and he
wouldn’t meet her eyes until he settled on what to say. “There isn’t any
evidence, not yet at least, to indicate his story doesn’t check out. He dropped
her off outside her house and went home. Until we have more to go on, there
isn’t much the FBI can do.”
“You can’t believe that, though,” Dawn insisted.
“There has to be something you can do. A stakeout, or a warrant, or something.”
“The FBI’s hands are tied unless we have more to go
on.” Agent Nash’s words were firm, but his green eyes were almost apologetic as
Dawn’s gaze caught his.
“What if I got you more to go on?” she offered.
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