He let out a breath, faintly embarrassed that her response relieved him of the immediate need to explain to Agent Clinton how he already figured into the case.
He bent to brush soothing strokes down Zander’s back to calm him because his partner had begun dancing in greeting at the sight of Georgiana. Zander never forgot a scent but his handler couldn’t allow his partner’s reaction to Georgie to distract him from the job they were here to do.
“Let’s begin.” Agent Clinton indicated that Brad should start his search with Georgiana.
Brad took no more than a few steps when his gaze snagged on a photograph hanging on the wall to his right. He paused. It was a picture of him. Naked. Blown up to proportions that made the scene graphically erotic, yet tender and intimate as well.
The details of that morning came flooding back to him. How shy she’d been but intensely protective, too, of the pictures she’d taken while he slept.
“You an art critic, Agent Lawson? Or are you telling me something I didn’t know about you?” Clinton chuckled as he threw a glance in the direction of the other two agents present.
“It’s a personal photo. One of my favorites.” Georgiana’s voice had come to the rescue, allowing Brad to turn his head and focus on her as she continued to speak. “His name is Philip Dexter. You don’t know him, do you, Agent Lawson?”
Brad felt his face prickle with embarrassment as he gazed at her hostile expression. He hardly ever blushed. Well, fuck. The heat in his face told him he was now.
He shook his head. “Can we get on with this? My dog’s getting restless.” He directed his gaze toward Clinton. “I’d appreciate if you’d all clear the room while Zander and I do my job.”
“Right.” Clinton waved his colleagues toward the door.
“Wait.” Brad moved to block her path. “Ms. Flynn, please hold out your hands.”
Georgie did as he asked, avoiding Brad’s eye.
“Zander. Such.’’ The dog sniffed her hands and then gave them a lick.
Clinton glanced at him. Brad shook his head.
“Very well. We’ll wait for you outside.”
Zander was an active dog, moving quickly but methodically, as Brad directed him to sniff out every corner, drawer, piece of furniture, pillow, bedding, and closet nook, paying close attention to the doorknobs and area where her computer had been. He hoped that this search would eliminate Georgiana as a suspect.
Less than five minutes later, Brad exited the small apartment. Zander was stepping high, very pleased with himself as he chewed his favorite snack, a bit of beef jerky.
Brad’s face was grim and he didn’t glance at Georgiana. “We had three, maybe four hits. All of them appear to be residual. No equipment or traces of incendiary material located.”
Agent Clinton’s serious expression turned to granite as he turned to his suspect. “Georgiana Flynn, you will need to come with me.”
Chapter Four
Georgie hugged her arms to her chest as she sat in an interrogation room talking with Will Barris, the attorney sent to represent her. “Aiding and abetting domestic terrorism? They can’t possible charge me with that. I’ve done nothing, know nothing.”
“Unfortunately, Ms. Flynn, the laws have become quite draconian about things like terrorism. If they feel you are in any way a threat, or know someone who is, they could try to hold you indefinitely.”
“Oh, god.” Georgie pushed a hand hard against her mouth, willing herself not to panic. “All I did was get burglarized. What’s the connection?”
“They haven’t told me much. As you can imagine, the FBI isn’t required to divulge as much as a local law enforcement agency would. They did say this investigation may have something to do with a secret admirer of yours. Do you know who they mean?”
“Yes, maybe.” She repeated a quick version of all she had told Clinton about her online fan. “So, I don’t actually know him. I’ve never had any contact with him—except online through my blog.”
“You see? You do know how to find him.”
Georgia stiffened at the sound of the voice. She hadn’t heard the door behind her open. It was Special Agent Clinton.
“It must be quite a thrill for a person to have an avid fan. You said he knows more about your work than you do. Quite an ego stroke. Couldn’t blame you for encouraging him. When is the last time you were in contact?”
“I’m not sure. At least ten days.” Georgiana closed her eyes for a second as she tried to hold onto her temper. Two hours of questions, the same ones over and over asked in only slightly different ways, had given her a headache.
“We can check, you know. Check your Web site. Your e-mail.”
Georgie lifted her head. “Then do that. I have nothing to hide.” She had been acting on sheer nervous energy since Clinton arrived at her door. “You can’t arrest me for having a blog that strangers comment on.”
“I’d be more persuaded of your cooperation if you could produce that corrupted chip from your camera. We have experts who might find things you say aren’t there.”