She glanced up and came to an abrupt halt. A man stood before her, tall and lean and dressed as a priest. The latter nipped at her already frayed temper. Brought up as a Catholic until the age of twelve, she hated priests.
“What?” she snapped making no effort to hide her impatience.
“We’d like to talk to you for a moment, if you have the time.”
“We?”
He nodded to a black SUV parked by the curb. The windows were tinted and she couldn’t see inside, but as she stared, the driver’s door opened and a second man climbed down.
Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. Not tall, probably about the same as her five ten, but lean and he moved with the grace of a fighter. Ex-army? When he turned to face her, she realized he was older than she’d first thought. In his late fifties maybe, but still fit.
He strolled toward them, his gaze running over her, and she reckoned he wasn’t missing anything.
“This is Colonel Grant,” the priest said. “And I’m Father O’Brien.”
The colonel stepped up close and held out his hand. For a moment, she stared at it, and then she put her own in his. His grip was cool and firm.
Something occurred to her as she tugged free. “How did you know where to find me?” She hadn’t told anyone at work about the appointment. Her colleagues were unaware of her illness—there was some advantage to the blackout having taken place on Ryan’s last night on the job—he’d failed to report it. And she wanted it to stay that way. Otherwise, she’d find herself tied to a desk job until she got the all clear—if she got the all clear. No way was that happening while she had a murder to solve.
The colonel shrugged. “We work for the government, Detective Connolly. We have access to their databases. Your appointment came up, and we thought it would be a good time to catch you before you return to work.”
“Isn’t that an invasion of privacy?”
He shrugged again. “We believe some situations override the privacy of the individual.”
“Are you antiterrorist?” She glanced at him sharply. They were the only people she knew who had those sorts of powers. Could her case be involved with terrorism in some way? She was unable to see a connection, but at this point, she was willing to take any leads.
“In a way. But not exactly in the sense you mean.”
“Let’s all be as cryptic as shit,” she muttered. “Why don’t you guys get to the point? What is it you want? Because I’m presuming you want something.”
“At the moment, to talk to you. We thought it might be best to make our first approach away from the office.”
First approach? Sounded like they were going to make this a regular thing. She glanced at the priest—not if she had any say in the matter. On the other hand, she couldn’t deny a certain amount of curiosity. She spotted a coffee shop across the street from where they stood. “You can buy me a coffee, and I’ll give you ten minutes.”
The colonel followed her gaze. “We were thinking of somewhere a little more private.”
“You can talk quietly. And I need coffee.”
She’d been told no food and drink before the tests. Now she was feeling the distinct absence of caffeine in her system. But it wasn’t only that. Something about these guys put her on edge, despite one of them being a priest. In fact, if it wasn’t for the dog collar, she would never have placed him as a religious type. More likely another soldier. He had that alertness and way of moving. No way did she want to go anywhere alone with them until she knew who they were and what they wanted.
In the café, they found a booth along the back wall, which afforded them a little privacy. It was self-service and Faith sat herself on the padded seat opposite Father O’Brien while the colonel went to get the coffee. Neither of them spoke and Faith played with the sachets of sugar while she waited. She tried to ignore the way he studied her with his dark eyes as though he could see into her soul. Except she didn’t have a soul to see into.
The uncomfortable silence was only broken by the colonel’s return. He carried a tray, with not only drinks but also a toasted-cheese-and-bacon sandwich. Her favorite. A shudder of unease ran through her. Maybe coincidence—but she didn’t believe in coincidences.
“Do you know everything?” she asked.
“Not everything.” The colonel flashed her a slight smile. “We’re hoping you can fill in some of the blanks.”
She took a sip of coffee and a bite of the sandwich and sighed. “Okay. So shoot.”
But it was the priest who spoke first. “I believe you’re a Catholic, Detective?”
The question took her by surprise. Though maybe it shouldn’t have considering the man asking. “I was born a Catholic, but no, I’m not a Catholic now.”
“Perhaps, we’ll leave the religious aspect out of this for the moment,” the colonel said, the smile still playing across his lips. He was a handsome man in a stern older-guy sort of way. “We work for a division of the government that concerns itself with things of a…less than normal nature.”