Red After Dark (Blackwood Security #13) - Elise Noble Page 0,11
were going to the veterinarian. Beth had gasped at the thought of a hurt animal, and Alaric had nearly bitten through his bottom lip as he watched her tearing up in the passenger seat.
He wanted to hit the brakes and give her a hug, but he didn’t dare. Fucking Dan.
And then things got worse.
Somehow—somehow—the pair of crazies beat Beth and him to Kentucky, and the true horror of the situation became clear. Miracle of miracles, Dan hadn’t had yet another fender bender. No, she and Emmy had stopped for their junk food fix at some diner in the middle of nowhere, and there they’d seen ol’ Joe Bob booting his mangy old mutt across the parking lot. Emmy, of course, had asked him to stop, and when he gave her a mouthful in return, Dan had punched him in the face while Emmy slashed the tyres on his pickup. Then they’d stolen the damn dog and driven it to Lexington for a check-up. And now? Now Beth was feeding the skinny pooch cocktail sausages in their rented house while Alaric and Emmy tracked Irvine Carnes’s assistant.
“Coffee?” Alaric asked after Emmy finished taking pictures.
He’d deal with Fido later. Right now, there were more important things to worry about.
“We’ve known each other for fourteen years, and you still feel the need to ask that question?”
Fair point. An old-fashioned bell jingled as he held the door to the café open for her, although the rest of the decor looked reasonably modern. A dozen tables were scattered haphazardly in a space large enough for twice that number—good if you wanted a private conversation, not so great if you wanted to listen in on somebody else’s. Hegler ordered a chai latte and took a seat beside the window, paying more attention to his phone than the surroundings.
Alaric had learned his lesson. “One light coffee, one black coffee, and a chocolate muffin for the lady.”
Emmy nodded approvingly. Some girls liked diamonds and pearls. She preferred caffeine and carbs.
They left a table between themselves and Hegler, keeping his back to them. He was a small man, dapper, dressed in a suit and tie even on Sunday in a town where the uniform seemed to be denim and plaid. Nobody gave him a second glance, which suggested he was a regular patron.
Emmy’s camera hooked up wirelessly to her phone, and Alaric kept up a mostly one-sided conversation about local attractions while she sent the photo of Hegler to Richmond. Five minutes later, they had their answer.
“Sky says it’s the same guy she saw collect the painting in London.”
A finger of tension uncurled in Alaric’s gut. They’d been almost certain this particular Stéphane Hegler was their man, but until that moment, there’d been a modicum of doubt. With Sky’s confirmation, they could move on to phase two—interrogation.
“Good. That’s good. How do we want to play this?” he asked, almost to himself.
“Hegler’s most likely just a pawn. We need to scare him a little, but I’d vote against steaming in there with all guns blazing.”
“Agreed. Go in too soft, and we risk them moving the painting again, but you catch more flies with honey.”
As an FBI agent, Alaric had been expected to cultivate his own sources. In every interview he did, he’d wanted the subject to feel comfortable but just the tiniest bit intimidated at the start, and if he played his cards right, by the end of the chat, they’d want to help him. He employed the same philosophy with Sirius. Today’s witness or even a suspect could become tomorrow’s informant.
“If they’ve got the painting, then ten to one it’s at Carnes’s place,” Emmy said. “He’s coveted it for years, right? So he’ll want to look at it, not hide it away in a vault somewhere, especially if he’s on his last legs.”
She was right. And back in the old days, it would’ve been easy to get answers. People tended to respect the FBI. Show a shiny gold badge, and… Hmm…
“Did Bradley pack you a pantsuit?”
“Knowing Bradley, he packed me everything from a bikini to a ballgown. Why? What are you thinking?”
“I still have my FBI shield.”
In between defending his name and fleeing the country, Alaric had omitted to hand it back. They also had guns and a Ford Explorer. Of course, most agents didn’t actually drive black SUVs, but thanks to the movies, the public thought they did.