The Deepest Wound (Jack Murphy Thriller #3) - Rick Reed Page 0,98

got some left for you.”

“I’m not going to sleep with you, Lucius. No means no.” At one time she had played with the idea—Lucius was built like a weight lifter without any of the wilt up front—but two factors kept her from doing it. First, his desire for her gave her a negotiating chip. Men were always more pliable when they were after something. Second, she had met Mark Crowley, chief deputy sheriff of Dubois County, and it was love at first sight.

“Who says we’re going to sleep?” Lucius said playfully. She remained silent and he sighed. “Okay, just a minute.” Moments later, “What am I looking for?”

“Just check your email.”

She could hear him slapping the keys on his computer, and when he said he had the email, she filled him in—as much as he needed to know—and then turned him loose to do his thing. He didn’t really need to hack the computer, because his job as a senior consulting computer analyst for the Department of Justice carried some perks. Lucius wasn’t the typical muscle head. He was almost as good with computers as Garcia.

He could run what she needed as a “test of the system,” and no one would be the wiser. Whereas, if she hacked into the system—and she was perfectly capable of doing so—it would set off all kinds of alarms and begin a search that might lead back to her computer.

“Five minutes,” Lucius said, and the line went dead.

CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

The meal at Bone Fish was fantastic, and expensive, but the atmosphere was subdued and tense. Eric blamed the dull mood on his boss. Trent had not only spotted them upon Brooke’s hasty exit, but he also decided to join them at their table.

Katie picked at her food and spoke very little, and then only to answer questions put to her by Trent. Eric didn’t blame her for being a little testy because it did feel like Trent was interrogating her about Jack, Moira, and the case.

He had to remind Trent—twice actually—that Katie and Jack were no longer married, and she didn’t know anything about what Jack was doing. Then Katie embarrassed him when she said if Trent had questions, he should ask Jack or Moira.

As Eric turned the Mercedes down her street, his plans for the rest of the evening disintegrated before his eyes. Not just because of Katie’s mood, but by what was parked in her driveway: Jack’s car. Two marked police cars were lined up on the street.

Eric pulled in behind one of the police cars and nodded at the two heavily armed SWAT officers standing on Katie’s porch. Katie pushed through the front door and ran into the living room, shouting, “Moira! Moira? Where are you?”

Jack stepped out of the kitchen with a steaming mug of coffee in each hand. “She’s in there, Katie,” he said calmly. “Just a little excitement at work tonight. She’s fine.”

Realizing the situation was serious, Katie put a hand on Jack’s arm and mouthed the words, “Thank you.” She entered the kitchen and found Moira sitting at the kitchen table, a lit cigarette between her fingers. Jack left the sisters to talk and carried the coffees out to the front porch for the officers. He wanted them to stay awake. He promised them relief in a couple of hours.

Eric was standing by the front steps with a scowl on his perfect face. The two officers accept the proffered coffee, and then moved away a respectful distance to allow Jack and Eric to talk. As they passed Eric, one officer remarked to the other, “Three to one on Jack.” The other asked, “Killing or just wounding?” The rest of their conversation was lost to ambient city noises.

“Once again I’ve been left out in the cold,” Eric said accusingly.

Jack wasn’t sure if Eric was referring to the fact that he didn’t know what had happened at the Civic Center, or if he was upset because he wouldn’t be spending the night with Katie. It hardly mattered, because Jack was furious with him.

“Where the hell have you been?” Jack asked.

“Where have I been?” Eric asked. “I have to hear from these two goons of yours what happened. That’s what you call cooperation?”

“Well, counselor, first of all they’re not my ‘goons,’ they are SWAT officers. Second, if you’d turn your phone on, maybe someone could find you.”

Eric wasn’t having any of that. “You knew where we were. Katie left a note for you. You could have sent a car to the