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Authors: Aimée Thurlo
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back at Paul.
“Excuse my manners,” Paul said. “This is U.S. Marshal Armstrong, Nick.”
Nick shook her hand, then said, “He spoke just like everyone else—normal, you know, no accent.”
“Was his voice higher or lower pitched than Paul’s?” Kendra asked. People often knew far more than they realized.
“Um, higher. And he talked faster, too, like he was in a hurry.”
“Thanks,” Kendra said. Reaching into her jacket pocket, she brought out her notebook, took out a photo of Miller, and showed it to Nick. “Could this have been him?”
Nick studied the photo. “Hard to tell. This guy’s wearing a cap and sunglasses and the photo’s bad. Looks like it’s been Photoshopped, too.”
“Yeah, but it’s the best we’ve got,” she said, disappointed.
“Were you able to direct the feed from my surveillance cameras?” Paul asked Nick.
“It took a while, but I got it to work,” he said. “I tested it out, too, so it’s all set. No matter where you log in you’ll be able to monitor everything from your laptop.”
Paul powered up his computer and entered his password. After a few keystrokes, he had the screen he needed. There was a small compass on the lower right hand side. “With this software I can redirect the cameras with the touchpad and conduct a real time 360-degree sweep of the area. If I catch anyone watching my apartment, I can zoom in on their location, lock on the cameras, and they’ll track that person as long as he stays in range.” Paul manipulated the touch pad to demonstrate.
“Sweet,” Nick replied.
“One more thing, Nick,” Paul said. “If you see the guy again, don’t approach him yourself, you hear me? We have reason to believe he could be dangerous.”
“Okay, no problem, Mr. Grayhorse.”
After Nick left the shop, Paul remained at his laptop, sipping coffee while Kendra finished off a cheese Danish.
“I’ve looked at the prerecorded feed from all the angles. He’s either incredibly lucky or he knew where to find the cameras and stayed away from them.” Paul took his final swallow of coffee, logged off his laptop, and closed it up. “I’ve also checked real time surveillance, and things are clear over at my place. There are lots of people in and around the coffee shop underneath my apartment, so I think it’s safe for us to make a quick stop by my place.”
“Why take the risk? If we’re going to have a face-off, I’d rather it go down away from a crowd of civilians.”
“You need a place to change clothes, otherwise the people who hang out around that alley will take one look at you and scatter,” he said. “They survive by avoiding anyone who might be a cop.”
“I can stop at the MallMart and buy myself something less businesslike.”
“Then they’ll notice that what you’re wearing is brand-new,” he said, shaking his head. “You need to fit in.”
“So what’s your plan?”
“Borrow a pair of my jeans. You’ll have to roll them up a bit, but they should fit. You can also wear one of my pullover sweaters. It’ll be big on you, but you can conceal your badge and gun beneath it easily.”
“Okay,” Kendra said after considering it for a moment. “But I’m calling your brother and asking for extra patrols in your neighborhood while we’re there. If the guy shows up, I want backup close by.”
“I can live with that.”
As she called Preston, her gaze continually strayed back to Paul. Though she knew it would only complicate matters, the more she got to know Paul the more she liked him. After all he’d been through, she’d expected to find a jaded former marshal, sour on the world. Yet Paul wasn’t like that at all. He still cared about people and had shown remarkable loyalty to the marshals service and his former partner.
“What’s on your mind, pretty lady?” he said, his voice a gravelly whisper that ignited her senses.
For a moment she felt herself drowning in the dark, steady gaze that held hers. Certain he
“Excuse my manners,” Paul said. “This is U.S. Marshal Armstrong, Nick.”
Nick shook her hand, then said, “He spoke just like everyone else—normal, you know, no accent.”
“Was his voice higher or lower pitched than Paul’s?” Kendra asked. People often knew far more than they realized.
“Um, higher. And he talked faster, too, like he was in a hurry.”
“Thanks,” Kendra said. Reaching into her jacket pocket, she brought out her notebook, took out a photo of Miller, and showed it to Nick. “Could this have been him?”
Nick studied the photo. “Hard to tell. This guy’s wearing a cap and sunglasses and the photo’s bad. Looks like it’s been Photoshopped, too.”
“Yeah, but it’s the best we’ve got,” she said, disappointed.
“Were you able to direct the feed from my surveillance cameras?” Paul asked Nick.
“It took a while, but I got it to work,” he said. “I tested it out, too, so it’s all set. No matter where you log in you’ll be able to monitor everything from your laptop.”
Paul powered up his computer and entered his password. After a few keystrokes, he had the screen he needed. There was a small compass on the lower right hand side. “With this software I can redirect the cameras with the touchpad and conduct a real time 360-degree sweep of the area. If I catch anyone watching my apartment, I can zoom in on their location, lock on the cameras, and they’ll track that person as long as he stays in range.” Paul manipulated the touch pad to demonstrate.
“Sweet,” Nick replied.
“One more thing, Nick,” Paul said. “If you see the guy again, don’t approach him yourself, you hear me? We have reason to believe he could be dangerous.”
“Okay, no problem, Mr. Grayhorse.”
After Nick left the shop, Paul remained at his laptop, sipping coffee while Kendra finished off a cheese Danish.
“I’ve looked at the prerecorded feed from all the angles. He’s either incredibly lucky or he knew where to find the cameras and stayed away from them.” Paul took his final swallow of coffee, logged off his laptop, and closed it up. “I’ve also checked real time surveillance, and things are clear over at my place. There are lots of people in and around the coffee shop underneath my apartment, so I think it’s safe for us to make a quick stop by my place.”
“Why take the risk? If we’re going to have a face-off, I’d rather it go down away from a crowd of civilians.”
“You need a place to change clothes, otherwise the people who hang out around that alley will take one look at you and scatter,” he said. “They survive by avoiding anyone who might be a cop.”
“I can stop at the MallMart and buy myself something less businesslike.”
“Then they’ll notice that what you’re wearing is brand-new,” he said, shaking his head. “You need to fit in.”
“So what’s your plan?”
“Borrow a pair of my jeans. You’ll have to roll them up a bit, but they should fit. You can also wear one of my pullover sweaters. It’ll be big on you, but you can conceal your badge and gun beneath it easily.”
“Okay,” Kendra said after considering it for a moment. “But I’m calling your brother and asking for extra patrols in your neighborhood while we’re there. If the guy shows up, I want backup close by.”
“I can live with that.”
As she called Preston, her gaze continually strayed back to Paul. Though she knew it would only complicate matters, the more she got to know Paul the more she liked him. After all he’d been through, she’d expected to find a jaded former marshal, sour on the world. Yet Paul wasn’t like that at all. He still cared about people and had shown remarkable loyalty to the marshals service and his former partner.
“What’s on your mind, pretty lady?” he said, his voice a gravelly whisper that ignited her senses.
For a moment she felt herself drowning in the dark, steady gaze that held hers. Certain he
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