Cory returned with a heavy-duty parka, tags still attached. Emergency supplies, probably. The man planned for everything.
"This is warmer," he said simply. "Trade?"
Rose examined the new coat with an expert eye, checking zippers, testing the insulation. Finally, she nodded and shrugged out of Izzy's jacket.
"Finders keepers rules?" she asked hopefully.
"Absolutely," Cory agreed. "That's yours now."
As Rose bundled into the new parka, Izzy pulled out her phone. "One more thing. Do you recognize any of these people?"
She scrolled through the photos from the FAA hangar—Reed looking officious, Tom and Janet with their clipboards, the skinny mechanic trying to fade into the background.
"Him." Rose's grimy finger landed on the skinny mechanic without hesitation. "Twitchy guy. Saw him toss the jacket."
"You're sure?" Cory leaned in, all cop now.
"Got a good memory for faces." Rose tapped the screen again. "Definitely him. Looked nervous as a cat in a dog pound."
Izzy exchanged glances with Cory.
"Thank you, Rose." Cory pulled out his wallet, extracted two twenties. "For your help."
Rose snatched the bills before he could change his mind. "Didn't see nothing, if anyone asks."
"Fair enough," Izzy agreed.
They walked back to the SUV in charged silence. Her jacket went into an evidence bag Cory produced from his seemingly endless supply of law enforcement equipment.
"Brad Houzer," Izzy said once they were inside. "He wore my jacket to sabotage the helicopter."
"Appears so." Cory started the engine. "Address?"
She was already pulling up the employee database she'd screenshot at the FAA hangar. "1847 Desert View Road. Out past the old mining district."
"Twenty minutes." He pulled into traffic, jaw set with determination. "We're ending this tonight."
Izzy stared at him. "Wait. What?"
"You heard me."
"We're just... going? Right now?" She twisted in her seat to face him fully. "No calling the FBI? No backup? No seventeen forms filed in triplicate?"
His jaw tightened. "You have a problem with that?"
"A problem?" A laugh bubbled up, part shock, part delight. "Who are you and what have you done with Chief Fraser?"
"I'm adapting to circumstances."
"Adapting." She drew out the word, savoring it. "Is that what we're calling it when Mr. By-The-Book goes rogue?"
"I'm not going rogue." He took a turn faster than strictly necessary. "I'm pursuing a lead while it's fresh."
"Without backup."
"You're my backup."
"Without notifying the feds."
