“What’s up?” Dave leaned back, arms crossed, his eyes narrowing.
“Once I get some names, I need to run them,” Rawley said, voice low but urgent.
Dave’s eyebrows shot up. “Why?”
Rawley swallowed and met his boss’s gaze. “I have a feeling about them—”
“You can’t just run names because you have a… feeling,” Dave cut in, forward in his seat now, his tone clipped.
Rawley drew a breath and recounted every unsettling moment; the heated showdown at Dewey’s, the confrontation in the diner, the way those men moved in sync, too practiced, too cold. By the time he finished, Dave’s nostrils flared and his knuckles whitened around his mug.
“Let me get this straight,” Dave snapped. “You stick up for a woman, and suddenly these guys are cattle thieves?”
“No—”
“You have no proof. Absolutely none.” Dave’s voice rose, echoing off the walls.
“My gut is rarely wrong—” Rawley began.
“But sometimes itiswrong.” Dave slammed a hand on the desk as he got to his feet. “I cannot allow you to chase names without probable cause, and you know it, Bowman.” Rawley stood as well and noticed almost all the agents staring at them.
“I know that, but you have to trust me.”
Dave sank back into his chair, exhaling through clenched teeth. “If I let you do this, we’ll all be out of a job. Not happening. You’re dismissed, Agent.”
Rawley leaned forward, palms flat against the worn wood. “You know I’m not just picking names from a hat—”
Dave held up a hand. “Get out of my office and do your job or take the rest of the week off.”
Rawley straightened, anger rippling through his chest. “You think a week will make me think I’m wrong?” he shot back.
“Tread carefully, Bowman.” Dave’s stare was ice.
Rawley ran his fingers through his hair. “Damn it, Dave.”
Dave’s voice softened only slightly. “Look, we know you’re good at your job. But you need probable cause. What’s yours? They hit on your girlfriend?”
Rawley shook his head. “You know what? I think I will take the rest of the week off.” He pivoted and stormed out, the glass door rattling against the wall.
At his desk he snapped off his computer, snatched up his hat, and headed for the exit. As he reached the door, Dave’s voice boomed after him.
“Keep it up and it will be next week too.”
Rawley paused, jaw clenched, then he walked out of the department and slammed his hand against the stairwell door. The echo of metal hitting the wall followed him as he tore down the iron stairs two at a time.
Chapter Eleven
As Skylar drove home, she kept checking her mirrors, her knuckles white against the steering wheel. No one was behind her, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. When her infotainment center lit up with Ryan’s name, she flinched so hard she nearly swerved into the next lane.
“Hi,” she answered, hating the tremor in her voice.
“Hey! How was your lunch with Rawley?”
“There wasn’t one.” Skylar sighed, torn between wanting to unload everything and protecting Ryan from worry. “We just need to stop trying to meet up for lunch.”
“What happened?”
Skylar hesitated, then told Ryan about the confrontation, downplaying parts that still made her stomach clench.
