Then the kid was gone again, disappearing into the café with a new bounce in his step. Ian told Savannah, “He looks like he’s feeling better.”
She stared after the boy, eyes narrowed. “I was just thinking the same thing.” She started toward the café. “Come back in. You’ve got to be freezing.”
“I have to get going.” He rolled the picture into a tube.
At the doors, she turned. “What about your jacket?”
He grinned. “You’re wearing it.”
A second of confusion clouded her eyes before she looked down. “Oh… Oh, jeez. I’m sorry.” She shucked the parka as if it had lice. “I burned your hand and stole your jacket. I think I owe you a tip today.”
“No problem.” He took the parka. “You warmed it up for me.”
She offered his jacket along with one of those sunshine-and-blue-skies smiles. “I hope your day gets better.”
“Yours too.”
“If I see Tim—Mr. Baulder—I’ll let him know you were here.”
“Thanks.”
Ian shrugged into his jacket and started down the street. Smiling. He was smiling. And there was no reason in the world for him to be smiling. But Savannah’s heat sank into his body. And her rose-petal scent lifted to his nose.
He was feeling lighter than he had in a long time when he spotted Everly standing at the corner, leaning against the building.
Ian slowed and glanced over his shoulder to make sure Savannah was gone before he stopped to talk. He and Everly hadn’t been on the same Manhunters team while employed by the government, but like any special forces unit, they partnered with other teams for a large-scale mission. Their teams had worked together often enough for him to know he could trust her with his life.
“Did you find Rosen?” he asked. “Is he part of this mile-thick blue wall?”
“I found him. And, surprisingly, he’s not, but he is squirrely.”
Joe Rosen was the deputy with the Hazard County Sheriff’s Depart
ment. According to the mission file, Rosen’s disgruntled attitude over his boss made him the perfect source inside the department. He and Mason had become friends, hanging at a local bar after work. Now Rosen’s friend, one who’d been pushing dark boundaries in town, was dead.
“Understandable,” Ian said. “Is he willing to help us?”
She turned toward her Jeep, parked on the other side of the street and still running. “I’ll tell you out of the cold. Get in.”
Inside, Everly shivered, pulled off her gloves and put her hands in front of the vents. “I think I’m going to need a couple of weeks in Bora Bora to thaw out after this.”
“That’ll go over well with Roman,” Ian said. “Who did you tell Rosen you were?”
“Investigator from the DOJ, following up on Mason’s death.” She reached across the console, opened the glove box, and pulled out a file folder. Then tapped into her phone, placed a call, and put it on speaker, looping Roman and Sam in on the conversation.
“Is Heller with you?” Roman answered.
“Here,” Ian said. “Boss, can you have Sam double down on my background cover?”
“I’m here.” Sam’s voice came over the line. “Considering our military counterpart already scrubbed all their operators’ files, you look like exactly what you’re claiming to be, a retired army rat.”
“I just met Bishop,” Ian said, “and he’s going to dig into it.”
“I guarantee he won’t find anything,” Sam assured.
“Rosen confirmed Mason’s assessment that the Bishops are dirty,” Everly said, “though he doesn’t have any hard evidence of that. Just his own observations.”
“The slippery ones rarely leave a trail,” Ian said. “And which Bishop?”