That wasn’t the word he’d choose, but he returned her smile. It had been so long since he’d actually been honest with somebody, he wasn’t sure how to do it. “If you’d asked me into the bedroom, I would’ve said yes.”
She tilted her head to the side. “I know.” Then she moved out of the way so he could go back outside. “Were you serious about being friends?”
“Sure. Why not?” Every bit of him knew he wasn’t leaving Cottage Grove now. How could he?
“Okay.” Her voice was tentative. “Tomorrow, late afternoon, after I finish my work for the day. We’ll walk the property and maybe get to know each other. We can look for any threats.”
An odd word to choose, really. Not damaged trees or property problems, but threats. “Okay. I’m running errands most of the day but will make it a point to be here by early afternoon.” He kept her towel and headed out to the patio before striding back into the storm.
One of many coming his way, if history had taught him anything.
Chapter Four
Parking the truck in a half-full parking lot, Mal double-checked the address he’d scrawled on a sticky note. “Odd,” he murmured, looking around. The building in front of him definitely had been built in the seventies. Square, beige-colored, three stories high.
The morning drive from Cottage Grove in Virginia to this oddly placed building outside DC had taken him more than an hour, and he’d questioned his wisdom with every mile.
A deserted grassy area with worn picnic tables sat to the left, while a row of similar buildings extended to the right. Behind him was the interstate. The area was quiet—eerily so.
He hesitated to lock his SIG in the glove compartment, but without credentials, he couldn’t very well walk into a government building armed. If thiswasa government building. Chances were, it was one of those satellite offices for overflow, but that was close enough.
Jumping out, his boots hit wet pavement. The rain had softened, barely falling, but it still dampened his hair as he strode around parked vehicles to pull open the glass front door.
The interior hadn’t been updated. Worn yellow tiles, a marquis on the wall with mismatched letters, dingy white paint. No security and complete silence. An elevator bank of two faux wood elevators was over to the right. He moved toward the marquis, not surprised that the HDD wasn’t listed. Had he gotten the address wrong?
An ancient elevator opened, and Angus Force stepped out. He wore a full suit and looked like a fed from years back. While shorter than before, his hair was still messy; he’d tamed it back with some sort of gel, and his tie was neatly knotted. “West.”
Mal looked around the deadly silent floor. All the doors to the offices were closed. “Nice place you’ve got here.”
“The gym is on the ground floor at the end of the building.” Force flashed a quick smile. “You think this is nice? Wait till you see your office.” He stepped back into the elevator.
Mal shook his head and followed. The elevator hitched when he stepped inside. “I’m not joining your team.” Especially in this hellhole. “You said if I came in you’d give me the records you supposedly have on Pippa.”
“So, it’s Pippa now, is it?” Force murmured, pressing the far-left button. “First name basis already? Youaregood.”
Mal didn’t rise to the bait as the elevator began to descend. “We’re heading down.”
“Yep. Nothing gets by you, Detective,” Force said cheerfully, tugging on his tie.
“What’s a Homeland Defense unit doing in this place?” Curiosity was a bitch.
They descended two floors, and the doors slid open to a small alcove with a flickering light. An old door to the right looked like it led to a closet, and a smaller one to the left had a restroom sign above it, old and tilted. “We’re kind of a dirty secret nobody wants around,” Force said, striding through the alcove. “And I lied.”
Mal followed him to see a bullpen of sorts with several scratched old desks scattered around, a few piled high with dusty boxes. Garbage and discarded computers lined one wall. “About what?”
“You don’t have an office.” Force pointed to four open doorways across the wide room. “From left to right: my office, case room one, case room two, and computer center.” He gestured around the room. “You can have first choice of desks. I was thinking of arranging them in a circle or something Zenlike. What do you think?”
Mal cut him a look. “I don’t give a damn how you decorate.” The paint on the walls was peeling, and the yellowish lights from the ceiling buzzed. The floor was dirty cement. “Just give me the files.”
The elevator dinged and opened.
Mal turned slightly to face the elevator. The guy who stepped off looked like he belonged in one of those superhero movies.
As the bad guy.
The huge, scary, psychotic bad guy.
Force smiled. “Right on time. Lieutenant Commander Clarence Wolfe, meet Detective Malcolm West.”
