No kidding.
She nodded, and he disappeared to help the other attendants shut the doors, and grab her drink, and she finally breathed a sigh of relief. It really was her lucky day.
She wanted to call Xander and tell him what she was up to, but she was afraid that the feds might be tracking his phone, or even hers by now. Just in case, she turned it off and took the battery out, left it tucked into its pocket in her bag. She’d just have to cross her fingers that he had gone home, and she’d be able to find him before he set off back to D.C., or worse, off into the woods to search for his website friends. She had no idea how any of this worked, what a “prepper” was, or how they lived, so as soon as the flight attendant handed her the mimosa, she took a deep sip, opened Ledbetter’s memoir and started to read.
Chapter 26
Washington, D.C.
Detective Darren Fletcher
Inez was beginning to look suspiciously like Fletcher’s ex-wife, Felicia, when he’d done something that met with her disapproval, which was more often than not. Her face was scrunched in anger, her toe tapping impatiently, her arms crossed. She was sending off prickly vibes, and he wanted nothing to do with it.
“What?” he asked finally, sick of pretending to ignore her.
“Where is she?”
“Where’s who?”
“Dr. Owens. The agents just reported back—she’s not at her house. Not at the morgue. She’s in the wind, and I think you know exactly where she’s gone. And Bianco is on the warpath, so if I were you, I’d start talking while we can still repair the situation.”
“Stow it, Inez. Last time I looked, you worked for me here, not the other way around. I don’t know where Owens is, and I’d appreciate you getting off my back and starting to help, instead of playing the Grey Spy for Madame Bianco.”
“The grey spy? What?”
Fletcher just shook his head. “Before your time.”
“Seriously, Fletcher. Where did she go?”
He stood and started to walk away. She tried to block his path, and he just smiled and sidestepped her. “Excuse me, Inez.”
“Where are you going, Fletcher?”
“I need to take a leak. You want to help me with that, too?” He ignored her cry of protest, marched straight to the men’s room and pointedly shut and locked the door behind him.
He sagged back against the door and shut his eyes. Good God above, what had he gotten himself into?
He wasn’t in the habit of getting his ass handed to him on a platter. As a matter of fact, he’d had just about enough of Bianco and the JTTF. First they brought him in like it was a huge honor, then they saddled him with a bombshell case, and now they were taking him to task for letting a suspect, which they were officially labeling Sam, get away.
He wasn’t sure exactly who had requested that he be put on the JTTF in the first place, so until he knew that, he wasn’t going to walk out. Either someone was gunning for him and wanted him to be the scapegoat, or he’d been put on the JTTF to keep an eye on things. Until he knew for sure either way, he wasn’t willing to piss Bianco off too much.
But damn, having two alpha women pushing him around all day—he’d have stayed married if he wanted to be nagged to death.
He took advantage of the lull to call his boss at Metro, Captain Armstrong. He answered immediately.
“Boy Wonder. How’s things on the inside? What’s all this mess happening? Aren’t they treating you like a god over there at JTTF?”
“I wouldn’t go that far. I’ll explain in a minute. Just a quick question. Who put me up for this position?”
“I did. I thought you deserved a shot at the big time. And you’d already taken things into your own hands when you invited that M.E. into the Metro case. Why? What’s wrong?”
He should have known he wouldn’t be able to put anything by Armstrong. The man was smart and too good at his job. Fletcher didn’t sense any strangeness or animosity, either, couldn’t imagine that Armstrong himself was a part of this.
“Nothing’s wrong. I was just wondering. So you came up with this all on your own? Guess I should be thanking you.”
“Well, not all on my own. Chief of Police came to me and asked for a few names. Yours was the one he picked.”
Ah. So it was too much to hope that this shit would have happened to anyone they sent over, not just Fletcher. The chief had picked him.
“What’s up, Fletch? You sound like there’s something seriously amiss. I can’t make heads or tails of this text you sent me, either.”
Fletcher took a deep breath and told Armstrong what was going down, starting with the DNA and ending with the plane ticket he’d just purchased. When he was done, Armstrong let out a long, low whistle.
“Good grief, Fletch. I can’t let you out of my sight for five minutes, can I?”
“Apparently not.”