ready to hit it again?”
“Yeah.” Buzz pushed himself to his feet. “Let me put my stuff in the truck and I’ll join you in a minute.”
“See ya there.”
Suds strolled toward the back of the house, whistling one of those stupid songs with asinine lyrics that were the rage.
After he disappeared around the corner, Buzz picked up the insulated carrier and newspaper from the spot he’d claimed in the side yard and headed for the truck in the driveway. Compared to the estate where Crip was working, this neighborhood was low end.
Not that he begrudged his high school acquaintance a plum job. Ever since that varsity football injury had left him with a limp—and a politically incorrect nickname—he’d had more than his share of challenges.
Buzz tossed the paper and carrier in the truck and swiped the sleeve of his T-shirt over his forehead, anger roiling anew in his gut. No one should have to sweat in this heat to put food on the table and a roof over their head while the fat cats sat on piles of money and pulled the strings on the puppets who did all the real work.
Unless more people were enlightened, though, nothing would change.
Nor would it change if personalities like Eve Reilly, with her bully pulpit, kept convincing the masses that the structure of this country, and the capitalistic society championed by those in power, was worth defending.
“Hey, Buzz.” Suds waved at him from the corner of the house. “Grab the electric screwdriver.”
“Okay.” He turned back to the truck and rummaged for the tool.
Four more hours until he could chill out in his apartment.
It felt like a lifetime.
But he’d survive.
Because he had more to look forward to than a cold beer and another round of Candy Crush.
He had plans to make.
“Yes!” Brent pumped a fist in the air.
“Must be good news.”
As the male voice spoke behind him, he swiveled around in his desk chair at headquarters.
Colin Flynn leaned a shoulder against the door frame. “Either you just secured a hot date or there’s been a positive development with one of your cases.”
At the mention of a hot date, an image of Eve flashed through his mind.
If only.
But the detective colleague he shared an office with had nailed his reaction with his second guess.
“My euphoria is case related.”
“Congrats from a work standpoint. My condolences on the social front.” Colin strolled in and dropped into the chair at his desk. “What case?”
“Eve Reilly.”
“Yeah?” He leaned forward, interest sparking in his eyes. “I was beginning to think that was destined for the deep freeze.”
“Me too. But CSU came through for me at the car scene.”
“What did they find?”
“A small clump of dark hair containing a few strands with roots.”
“Aha. You got a DNA match in CODIS.”
“No.” The FBI database hadn’t yielded anything. “But I got a hit in the DOD DNA Registry.”
“Department of Defense.” Colin leaned back and linked his fingers over his stomach. “So your guy is military—or ex-military.”
“Ex.”
“Any previous lower-level run-ins with law enforcement?”
“That’s what I intend to find out.” A major crime would have yielded a match in CODIS—but that didn’t mean their man was 100 percent clean.
“If you want any help tracking down leads, let me know.” He pulled out his cell and scanned the screen. “I have to take this.”
As Colin angled away, Brent hunkered down and refocused on his computer. With a name and a few other identifying details in hand, it should be easy to gather additional data.
Thirty minutes later, his pulse picked up and he leaned closer to the screen he’d pulled up a minute ago.
How about that?
His suspect wasn’t merely a disenfranchised listener. He had a link to Eve.
Meaning he must have a personal ax to grind.
And now that they had a name, it was possible Eve could shed some light on the motivation.
He eased back in his chair.
A phone call would suffice for professional purposes—but he wanted to see her, even if he still had cold feet after everything he’d shared on Saturday night.
He didn’t have to stay long, though. He wouldn’t stay long. As soon as he passed on the news, he’d get out of there.
But seeing her face when she learned her troubles were almost over would be the highlight of his day.
Get real, Lange. The highlight of your day will be seeing her face, period.
Yeah, yeah.
He stood abruptly, and Colin looked over at him, one eyebrow raised.
Ignoring his colleague, he picked up his cell and made a fast exit. He might be able to hide