“How was Chewie? Did he seem stressed over Sunny not being with him?”
“He seemed to remember the vet from before, which helped keep him chilled.”
“That’s good.”
Relief sucked the air right out of him. For the dog—and for Sunny, who would have been devastated if anything happened to Chewie. Her bond with the animal couldn’t be missed. Only once he’d told her about the discovery of the additional dead bodies had he been able to pry her from her pet’s side.
Fast on the heels of that image, a damn selfish thought slithered through his brain. Now she would have to stick around for at least two weeks. No way could Chewie make it through a mountain pass in his condition.
Heavy footsteps sounded in the hall, jerking them both alert and upright until Hugh Franco rounded the corner in uniform, although it looked like he’d slept in the thing. “Damn, Brick, can’t you stay out of trouble for even twenty-four hours? I couldn’t believe it when McCabe called me.”
Wade thumped his fist to his heart. “Your compassion overwhelms me, my friend.”
“Hey, I don’t roll out of bed this early for just anyone.” He pulled his sunglasses from his head and hooked them on the neck of his wrinkled ABU jacket. “How did it go with the OSI? Any leads?”
“Two agents grilled me, picking apart every word looking for leads that so far I’m not seeing.” He didn’t like having his time with Sunny splashed all over some official report, but her safety was most important.
“And their theory?”
“They say it’s too early to have any definitive answers, yada yada, the sort of evasive responses you expect. But they suspect a serial killer scenario. They’re investigating how Smith made it all the way here, and why the hell he was standing around right outside my place. We’re too far from her home and his for it to be coincidental.”
Wade looked from Sunny back at his two closest friends on the planet. Men he would trust to have his back in a bar fight. Men he would trust with his life.
Men he would trust with Sunny’s life.
“I just want to get her away from here,” Wade said. “You know? Use some of all those leave days I’ve built up and give her a chance to decompress until they sort things out. God forbid there should more to this than Lasky and the rest are considering.” The farther he got her away from here, the better.
And he knew how to do that too. He had the survival training, the specialized skills, to fall off-the-grid in ways her community couldn’t even begin to fathom.
Franco’s smile flattened in a flash. “Whatever you need for her, we’re here.”
An uncomfortable silence settled at the intensity in his voice, an understandable intensity. Franco had lost his wife and daughter years ago in a freak plane crash. He’d fallen apart and almost got psych-evaled off the team. Somehow he’d pulled it together enough to function, to work, but there was an edge to everything he did now.
And when it came to protecting women and kids, he was damn near superhuman.
McCabe cleared his throat. “So, Brick, did you jar anything lose when you tangoed with that car this morning? Do you need me to check out those stitches?”
“All two of them? I’m okay, just a little road rash from when I hit the ground.” He worked his arm, the ABU rubbing across abraded skin. “Shoulder’s sore, but manageable.”
McCabe studied him through narrowed eyes as if deciding on whether to insist on checking him over. “You’ve had some kind of target on your back since you met this woman. What’s she mixed up in?”
His defensive hackles rose. “There are a lot of reasons people go off-the-grid.”
Franco’s grin returned, half-wattage but powering back to life. “Yeah, just ask Henry David Thoreau.”
The major snorted. “Who knew you were a literary scholar?”
“I even read books without pictures.”
“Somehow I didn’t peg you as having Walden on your nightstand.”
Franco’s smile held for a few seconds before he looked back through the glass again, where Sunny turned her full mug of coffee around and around on the table. “I’m not angling to start a book club here. I’m just saying that I agree with our buddy the major. Your girlfriend seems to be mixed up in some bad mojo.”
He’d wondered the same, but hearing it from someone else? Wade couldn’t stop the defensive comeback. “I’m waiting to hear what the OSI’s peek into her past has to say before passing judgment, thanks…” Oh, and uh… “She’s not my girlfriend.”
How junior high–like did that sound? And shit. His neck was hot, as if he was blushing or something. Must be more road rash. Yeah, he was going with that.
McCabe didn’t look like he was fooled for a minute. “Whatever.” His forehead furrowed and he thumbed the crinkles between his eyebrows as if battling a headache. “No matter how it looks, I have my doubts about the serial killer theory.”