drove through town toward the northeast part of Hartley.
“The guy who’s after you isn’t coming across like a pro,” Kendra said at last. “A professional hit man gathers intel below the radar.”
“And seldom misses—unless that’s his intent,” Paul said as he passed a slow-moving bus. “I’ve been giving this some thought, and the fact that the rounds came really close and were tightly grouped tells me that it wasn’t meant to be a hit. It was a warning.”
“A warning against doing what? You can’t testify against Miller even if he did kill your partner. You never got a look at the shooter. Are you involved in another case you haven’t told me about?”
“No, nor have I investigated anything that hasn’t been solved—except the hit on the judge.”
She said nothing for several long moments. “I’m getting a real bad feeling about this.”
“Yeah, me, too,” he answered. “There’s more to this attack than we’re seeing, and in our line of work, the unknown is what always gets you.”
As Kendra glanced at Paul and their eyes met, she felt a spark of awareness. Almost instantly, she pushed that feeling aside. She was here to do a job, and nothing could be allowed to interfere with her work. The colonel had drilled that into her until it had become a part of everything she was.
“Nick wants to go into the marshals service someday,” Paul said, breaking into her thoughts. “He’s only sixteen and has a long way to go, but I think he’ll make it.”
“You really like that kid, don’t you?” she said, noting the slight gentling in Paul’s voice whenever he spoke of him.
“Yeah, he reminds me of my brothers and me in a lot of ways. Nick was in a truckload of trouble this time last year. His mom had died six months before and his father had buried himself in work,” he said. “That’s why Nick started running around with the wrong crowd. Before long, he was in over his head. He wanted out, but the street gang was putting a lot of pressure on him.”
“So you helped out. How did you deal with it?” she asked.
“The gang leader’s a punk with a bad attitude, but I’m badder.” He gave her a quick half smile.
* * *
T HEY PARKED IN front of Bookworm’s Bookstore ten minutes later. The hand-painted sign out front advertised their coffee bar and Wi-Fi connection in big, bold letters.
“Bookstores have really been impacted by the economy. These days they have to diversify just to stay alive,” she said.
“All the small businesses in this area have taken a hit, especially the mom-and-pop places, like Bookworm’s.”
“Yet you started your own agency,” she said.
“Yeah, but it wasn’t easy staying in the black, particularly at first. I’ve got my pension and disability, and I had to rely heavily on those to get by.”
They’d just stepped inside the shop when they heard someone calling out.
“Hey, Mr. Grayhorse.” A teenager she assumed was Nick stood and waved, then hurried over to greet Paul. “I brought your laptop. It’s over there,” he said, pointing to the corner table.
Paul took one of the three seats around the square table and opened his laptop. “Nick, did you look around your dad’s coffee shop before you came over?”
“Yeah, but that guy hasn’t come back,” he said. “I also warned my dad to watch out for him. If he comes in, Dad’ll give you a call.”
“Great. Now think back carefully and tell me exactly what this guy looked like,” Paul said.
“Like I said, he was just a regular guy. Tall, about your height, brown hair, brown eyes. I don’t think he spent a lot of time outside, because he had light skin. He’d roast in the sun. Oh, yeah, I think he had freckles.”
“Did he have any kind of accent?” Kendra asked. Miller had been known to speak with a slight Texas drawl. The light skin also fit. Miller was a natural redhead, though he repeatedly dyed his hair.
Nick, obviously unsure whether to answer her or not, looked
“The guy who’s after you isn’t coming across like a pro,” Kendra said at last. “A professional hit man gathers intel below the radar.”
“And seldom misses—unless that’s his intent,” Paul said as he passed a slow-moving bus. “I’ve been giving this some thought, and the fact that the rounds came really close and were tightly grouped tells me that it wasn’t meant to be a hit. It was a warning.”
“A warning against doing what? You can’t testify against Miller even if he did kill your partner. You never got a look at the shooter. Are you involved in another case you haven’t told me about?”
“No, nor have I investigated anything that hasn’t been solved—except the hit on the judge.”
She said nothing for several long moments. “I’m getting a real bad feeling about this.”
“Yeah, me, too,” he answered. “There’s more to this attack than we’re seeing, and in our line of work, the unknown is what always gets you.”
As Kendra glanced at Paul and their eyes met, she felt a spark of awareness. Almost instantly, she pushed that feeling aside. She was here to do a job, and nothing could be allowed to interfere with her work. The colonel had drilled that into her until it had become a part of everything she was.
“Nick wants to go into the marshals service someday,” Paul said, breaking into her thoughts. “He’s only sixteen and has a long way to go, but I think he’ll make it.”
“You really like that kid, don’t you?” she said, noting the slight gentling in Paul’s voice whenever he spoke of him.
“Yeah, he reminds me of my brothers and me in a lot of ways. Nick was in a truckload of trouble this time last year. His mom had died six months before and his father had buried himself in work,” he said. “That’s why Nick started running around with the wrong crowd. Before long, he was in over his head. He wanted out, but the street gang was putting a lot of pressure on him.”
“So you helped out. How did you deal with it?” she asked.
“The gang leader’s a punk with a bad attitude, but I’m badder.” He gave her a quick half smile.
* * *
T HEY PARKED IN front of Bookworm’s Bookstore ten minutes later. The hand-painted sign out front advertised their coffee bar and Wi-Fi connection in big, bold letters.
“Bookstores have really been impacted by the economy. These days they have to diversify just to stay alive,” she said.
“All the small businesses in this area have taken a hit, especially the mom-and-pop places, like Bookworm’s.”
“Yet you started your own agency,” she said.
“Yeah, but it wasn’t easy staying in the black, particularly at first. I’ve got my pension and disability, and I had to rely heavily on those to get by.”
They’d just stepped inside the shop when they heard someone calling out.
“Hey, Mr. Grayhorse.” A teenager she assumed was Nick stood and waved, then hurried over to greet Paul. “I brought your laptop. It’s over there,” he said, pointing to the corner table.
Paul took one of the three seats around the square table and opened his laptop. “Nick, did you look around your dad’s coffee shop before you came over?”
“Yeah, but that guy hasn’t come back,” he said. “I also warned my dad to watch out for him. If he comes in, Dad’ll give you a call.”
“Great. Now think back carefully and tell me exactly what this guy looked like,” Paul said.
“Like I said, he was just a regular guy. Tall, about your height, brown hair, brown eyes. I don’t think he spent a lot of time outside, because he had light skin. He’d roast in the sun. Oh, yeah, I think he had freckles.”
“Did he have any kind of accent?” Kendra asked. Miller had been known to speak with a slight Texas drawl. The light skin also fit. Miller was a natural redhead, though he repeatedly dyed his hair.
Nick, obviously unsure whether to answer her or not, looked
Similar Books
