Would Clare call Desoto? With Erik absent, would she take the opportunity to contact her lover? Right now, they were playing a wait and see game. They'd wait as long as they could before they moved on Clare. Getting Desoto and Clare at the same time was paramount. Interrogation with leverage. Play a “he said”, “she said” scenario. They had some of the best interrogators in the city on the team.
"Car in the driveway." Rayburn's voice straightened him away from the wall. He moved through the house and watched from the dark front room as Amber got out of the car. She and Clare visited for several minutes before Amber shut the door and waved when Clare backed out of the driveway. He moved so he could watch Clare's vehicle without being highlighted in the car’s headlights. Clare backed out, drove to the next driveway, and then idled forward before disappearing back by the garage. The cameras would catch the rest.
Amber unlocked the front door and came in. She leaned to the side. The lights were on further in the house, and the sound of male voices let her know they had company. "Bring me up to speed." She dropped a couple bags on the floor.
Brody nodded toward the office. "Erik's in there. He let me borrow a tray. Pressed Grey Death under black paint and shrink wrap. From what we can ascertain, he had no idea he was doing anything wrong. He's cooperated fully. Terrell is recommending no charges. There was no intent. What about Clare? Did she give any indication what she was going to do tonight?"
Amber chuckled. "Netflix and chill. She probably assumed I didn't actually know what that means."
Terrell wandered into the darkened room. "I need you to get in contact with your counterparts in the DEA. We have the location where Edelman picked up the flowers. Either the containers are being produced at the nursery, or one of the employees is bringing them in and ensured Edelman got the right tray each time he came in to pick up Clare's order."
Brody shook his head. "It would be too hard for an employee to ensure they were there each time Edelman came in. The person is probably in management, if not the owner."
"Plenty of land at a nursery to set up shop and make the trays." Amber added.
"Yeah, and nurseries handle chemicals, so they'd have the PPE to prevent them from accidentally inhaling the product."
"Nurseries also tie into Clare's past. I'll have Terry do some background on the owner of the nursery."
Terrell stopped her. "Swanson, let’s make sure your contact keeps this close to the vest and at the recon level right now. We don't want anyone moving on the property and scaring our players."
"No problem. Where's the information?"
"On your desk."
Brody watched her walk away. Pride ran through him when she excused herself to work the case. She was professional, through and through—a damn good cop. Terrell would have no reason to suggest either of them be reassigned, not that he actually thought his captain would, but it was an option if officers who were a couple weren't professional or caused a disruption in the unit. Furthermore, her confidence was sexy as hell. He loved her intelligence and yeah, it turned his crank. For him, Amber Swanson, DEA agent, hard-ass cop, mother of his son and his lover, was the whole enchilada.
Everything about his present life with her eclipsed the shattering desolation he'd survived during the last ten years. Through time and trials of the heart, their love was consummated and forged in a maelstrom of mistakes, miscommunication, and missed opportunities. He glanced at his boss again. Everyone might not get a second chance, but he was damn sure going to grab his with both hands and hold on tight.
Erik glanced up at her as she entered the office. "You're a cop."
"DEA, actually." She sat down at her workstation and stopped the loop of fake screens. "What is the name of the nursery in Jacksonville?"
"Pretty Polly's Perfect Petals." She’d directed her question to Rayburn, but Watson answered. Naturally. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you screwing with me?"
"No. That's the name of the place." Erik answered. "She's been lying to me. How long, Amber? How long has she been with this guy?"
Damn. The pain the guy was feeling was coming off him in waves—tangible in a way she hadn't witnessed before. Normally, when spouses learn they've been cheated on, the response was one of anger