Grace just smiled at her; she was already passing Rollo a tidbit of her food.
Mo slipped behind the bar, and Abby cast her a look of gratitude. They weren’t alone. Josh Whitby was there, too, but the place was so busy, she figured she could be helpful by making drinks at the service station for the floor servers.
She was creating a house specialty—a Head of the Horseman, a strange concoction of beer, liquor and a touch of soda—when she saw that Grace wasn’t alone.
Mo almost dropped the glass.
The tall, dark and handsome FBI agent was at the table with her. He was still wearing his suit—but his tie was gone and his top shirt buttons were loosened. He was patting Rollo and smiling at something Grace was saying.
“Mo?”
She caught herself just in time to keep from spilling the specialty brew and turned to Abby.
“Thanks, Mo. You were a lifesaver tonight. It’s wound down now. I’ll cut you in when I divvy up—”
“Abby, don’t be ridiculous. I don’t want anyone’s tips.” Mo shook her head, distracted.
“Grace got herself a hot one, huh?” Abby said. “Nice! But right now, she shouldn’t be going home with strange men. I don’t think I’ve seen him before.”
“He’s FBI,” Mo told her. “I met him this morning.”
“Oh. Ohhh! Cool. I imagine an FBI man would be safe—and good to have around.”
“Yeah, one would imagine.”
“Seems Rollo likes him, so he must be okay.”
Rollo did choose his people, and Rollo liked the agent. He was greeting him with tail thumps and licks that should have gone to a long-lost relative.
Mo returned to the table, watching the man. She was disturbed to realize that she felt as if she needed to be there. She found the man fascinating. She’d met him under the most disturbing circumstances possible, and yet...
She’d simply stared at him when they’d met. When she’d pitched right into him. He had the kind of physique that made a suit look good. He wasn’t overly muscular, yet he was obviously strong and solidly built. Then there were his eyes. Blue. Intensely blue. In a ruggedly handsome face.
Great. In the middle of a dreadful situation, she was falling into...a crush? Infatuation, maybe. Or maybe he’d mesmerized her. But then...
She hadn’t dated in a long time. Not quite true—she’d had one dinner with a friend of a friend. Nothing had sparked. She’d claimed a headache while he was droning on about his brilliance at the stock market. The guy had driven her home, and thanks to Rollo she’d been able to escape inside before the good-night kiss. Rollo had barked on cue; he was very good at getting rid of anyone she didn’t want to ask in.
Before that, there’d been Kyle.
She still went to see him sometimes when he and his group were playing in Albany. They were friends—they just weren’t meant to be the great loves in each other’s lives.
“Ah, here she is!” Grace said, as Mo reached the table.
Agent Aidan Mahoney stood and smiled at her.
“Hello.” She smiled back.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt. I saw the dog and I guess he just drew me over.”
“I told him he wasn’t interrupting,” Grace said, looking a little starry-eyed.
“Not at all,” Mo agreed politely.
“Then, please, sit,” Agent Mahoney insisted. “Let me get out of your way. I should—”
“Don’t leave!” Grace broke in.
“I’m just surprised to see you. How did you end up here tonight?” Mo asked him. “Have you learned anything? Did you get the guy? Sorry, I’m bombarding you with questions.”
“I’m here for a few reasons. This is one of the few places in the area where you can still get food at—” he glanced at his watch “—almost eleven. It’s also where we found Richard’s head and I thought I should get the lay of the land and figure out how and when someone might have come here to, uh, place the head on the effigy.” He spoke easily and his manner was relaxed. He was a man who exuded confidence. Why wouldn’t he be? Yet, oddly, she recognized a tension in him. Maybe that made him even more attractive; he seemed aware of everything around him, even as he paid attention to the two of them. She thought that if danger did arrive, he’d be up and prepared to confront it in a flash.
“So, nothing new?” she asked.
He shook his head. “What we do is very methodical. Very routine. Check and recheck stories and find the discrepancies, follow every little thing.”
“He was telling me how good you and Rollo are,” Grace said, sipping a cup of coffee now. “I told him you two are like a wonder team, finding people all the time. Luckily, most of them alive. She used to find lots of dead people in the city—that’s why she moved here. Fortunately, our murder rate is extremely low. We like to be spooky, not lethal.”
“This crime is unusual,” Aidan Mahoney said. But he was staring at Mo. And she suddenly felt uncomfortable, as if he’d seen something in her. Something she kept hidden. Secret.