“Cop behavior.” Scott sat up and reached for his cell phone. “You may have bought us a winning lottery ticket, Officer Jamieson.” He punched his speed dial.
“Hear me out, Dave. What if X is one of us? Ex-law enforcement. SWAT or SOG. Probably got into undercover, loved the thrill of it, and went deep blue and stayed.”
Scott had punched “speaker” so Cole could hear Dave’s reply. “Wouldn’t be the first time. No department wants to advertise their bad apples. Usually the guy is just written off and dismissed.”
“We’ve got something else. That birth date he mentioned to his parole officer the other night. Want to bet it’s different than the one on his paperwork?”
“How did I miss that? Wish we had a year to go with it, for investigatory purposes.”
“A wild guess puts him in his early forties. He’s lived hard a long time. Even if everything else on his prison forms is lies, you’ve got his face and fingerprints to run through law-enforcement channels.”
“Called himself Dos Equis when you met, correct? Sounds like he’s not from the East Coast. I’ve had to move carefully locally so as not to draw attention of the wrong sort. But I can be more straightforward in the Southwestern states, Texas to southern California, I’m thinking. I’ll check with major internal affairs departments. Turn over a few rocks and see what crawls out.”
“Thanks, Dave. I owe you.”
“Only always.”
When he’d hung up there was a smile on Scott’s face. “You done good, babe. I’ve been thinking like a Pagan where X is concerned. I should have been thinking like a cop.”
Cole shrugged, basking in the glow of his praise.
Her phone chimed with a text. She read the message and her smile deepened. Maybe their luck was changing.
“It’s Shajuanna. She says she didn’t make it to the Bahamas after all. She’s enrolled Shujaa in an Agility competition near Philadelphia tomorrow and wants to know if I can meet her there. What do you think?”
“Let me check with Lattimore.” Scott made the call. After he explained the situation, he scribbled something down on his pad. “Yes, sir. I’ve got it.”
He looked at her with a smile. “We’re good. You like Philly cheese steak sandwiches?”
*
“Sorry I overslept.” Cole slid into the passenger seat of Scott’s truck where he’d waited for her to dress. One motel room was too small for two people and two dogs. “I’m usually up half the night running obstacles in my mind. Not competing today removed the pressure.”
“Take your time.” He passed her one of the cups of coffee he held. “Shajuanna never shows up early.”
Except that Shajuanna’s motor coach was already parked in the lot next to the exposition building when they arrived thirty minutes later. Next to her coach was one marked WQQR. She had brought her TV crew with her.
Scott nudged Cole. “Looks like we’re in for a show.”
Cole nodded. “Wonder what sort of manufactured drama she’s come up with this time?”
This event was much more than an Agility event. There were booths and rides, and other dog competitions set up on the fairgrounds. It was more like a festival with dog competitions as part of it. The indoor air-conditioned hall was packed with spectators as well as competitors. The Agility ring had been laid out under arena lighting with Astroturf flooring. The competition was well under way, with small dogs running first.
When they had walked through, not recognizing anyone from a previous meet, Cole and Scott, along with Izzy and Hugo on leashes, moved out onto the midway area.
Cole waved when she caught sight of Shajuanna among the crowd. Not that it was difficult. She was surrounded by her entourage and curiosity seekers, and spotlights on poles had been set up to light her effectively.
Scott nodded but said out of the corner of his mouth, “You go make nice. She’s already told you I’m not her favorite person. I’m going to walk through to the dog competition staging area with Izzy and hope we get lucky.”
Shajuanna greeted her with a big hug. “Hey, Noel. That is your name? Noel Jenkins?”
Cole felt the cool current of unease touch her. “That’s right.”
“Then, sweetie, can you explain this to me?” She pointed to an enormous video screen that had been set up next to the TV van. It burst to life with a grainy picture of Cole in her K-9 uniform and Hugo on a leash.
Cole felt as if a sinkhole had suddenly opened under her feet. The sensation of falling was so strong she reached out to clutch Hugo’s collar for balance as she stared at the screen.
It was a picture from a six-month-old newspaper article from the Gazette. Beneath it the caption read, Montgomery County Police Officer Jamieson and her K-9 partner Hugo on patrol. At the bottom edge of the torn-out article a large X had been made with a felt-tip marker.
Shajuanna poked her shoulder. “Explain that, Noel. Or Officer Jamieson. Or whoever the hell you are.”