“I never should have come here tonight,” Connor said.
“But you did,” she said. “And I know you want to stop these people from harming others. If Shane contacts you, at least agree to meet with him. I’m not asking you to set bombs or to cooperate with his plan in any way.”
She was right. Backing out now, when he had the potential to at least find out what Shane and his cohorts were up to, smacked of cowardice. “I’ll agree to meet with him,” he said. “But you’re coming with me.”
“Good idea,” George said before Stacy could answer. “Stacy is the girlfriend who recruited you to the cause in the first place. I’ll come, too.”
“No, Dad. Absolutely not.”
“Hey, Shane has already met me,” George said. “He’ll think it odd if I don’t butt in again. I can play the trigger-happy old guy. You two can be cautious, but I’m all for full speed ahead.” He punched his fist in the air.
Connor could practically feel the irritation rolling off of Stacy in waves. Her whole body was rigid, her knuckles pale in the dashboard lights as she gripped the steering wheel. He sensed another futile argument rising. “Let’s wait and see if Shane even contacts me,” he said. “Maybe he’ll change his mind.”
“I doubt it,” Stacy said. “In the meantime, I need to find out more about Shane. Why wouldn’t he tell me his last name, for one thing?”
“We can run his prints,” George said. “That should tell us if he has a record.”
“Right,” Stacy said. “I’ll just ask him to let me ink him for a fingerprint card.”
“You don’t have to.” George thrust something between the seats—a beer bottle in a plastic zipper bag. “I grabbed this off the table when Shane’s back was turned,” he said. “He was drinking out of it.”
“Is that even legal?” Connor asked.
“Trash is abandoned property,” George said. “Fair game for pulling fingerprints, DNA, whatever else we can derive from it.”
“Um, great, Dad,” Stacy said. “I’ll get that right off to the lab.”
“You’re welcome.” George sat back once more. “I told you we make a great team. You’ve got youth and the most up-to-date training on your side, but there’s nothing like experience and old-fashioned cunning to really get things done.”
The triumph in the old man’s voice almost made Connor smile. He understood Stacy’s annoyance at her father’s interference, but you had to admire the man. And Connor wouldn’t bet on the side of anyone who tried to cross him.
Chapter Seven
“Where’s Stacy this morning?” Nina’s voice rang out as Connor unlocked the door to ski patrol headquarters midmorning on Saturday.
“I have no idea.” He pushed open the door and flicked on the light.
Nina followed him inside. “How long is she in town for?” she asked.
Connor opened Farley’s kennel, and the dog stepped out and arched his back in a stretch. “I don’t know that, either.”
“I thought you two were friends.”
“We are. But I don’t keep track of her comings and goings.”
“I thought I saw her yesterday afternoon with a good-looking older guy.” Nina smirked. “Maybe you’ve got some competition.”
“That was probably her dad. He’s in town, too. And Stacy is just a friend. She can hang out with whoever she likes.”
Nina slid one hip onto the corner of his desk. “In that case, I have a friend I could fix you up with.”
“Not interested.”
“Why not? She’s really cute. And smart.”
He met her teasing look with a scowl. “How would you feel if I pestered you about your personal life and offered to fix you up?”
“I’d think you cared.” She laughed. “Okay, I get it. I’ll back off. Just call me a romantic.”
