Brodie went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. It was mostly bare except for a bottle of ketchup, a few cans of beer, and a couple of hot dogs.
He grabbed the hot dogs and walked out to the backyard. The dog was lying in the grass, lethargic. Her ears perked up as Brodie approached and tossed the hot dogs to her.
His cell rang. It was his boss, Colonel Dombroski. He picked up. “Brodie.”
“Mr. Brodie. Where are you?”
Brodie watched as the Lab inhaled both hot dogs. “Executing an off-base search warrant.”
“We need to meet.”
“Is this business or pleasure?”
“I occasionally enjoy your company, Scott, but it’s always business.”
“Yes, sir. O Club?”
The Officers’ Club was an on-base bar and restaurant that, as the name suggested, was restricted to military officers and their guests. Dombroski liked the Quantico O Club and often held his meetings there. At the age of fifty-five, he was on the old end of colonel, and he had something of a chip on his shoulder in place of the general’s star he might never get. The O Club reminded Colonel Dombroski that he was still in the exclusive fraternity that is the military officers corps. Also, the club had a decent twelve-dollar sirloin.
Dombroski replied, “A little farther afield this time. Annie’s Junction. Sports bar just off Ninety-Five, past the Lowe’s.”
“Is it ten-cent wing night?”
“Can you be there in twenty?”
“I’m working outside of Fredericksburg, Colonel. The Hinckley larceny case.”
“Evans can handle that.”
“Can I get that in writing?”
“It’s urgent, Scott. Thirty minutes.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dombroski hung up.
Brodie put his phone back in his pocket as he saw Evans exit the detached garage and walk across the lawn toward Brodie. “The mother lode’s in there.”
Brodie nodded.
“Chili mac ’n’ cheese. Beef brisket. Doesn’t sound bad. You eat that shit in Iraq?”
Brodie had served as an infantry sergeant in Iraq in 2003 and 2004. He didn’t like to talk about it much, but Evans, who had never seen combat, was always asking him stupid questions. “I ate snakes.”
Evans laughed. “Hard-core.” He stopped walking and stared at the black Lab looking up at Brodie, tail wagging. “You feed it?”
“Someone had to.”
“This guy’s a real prick.”
“I need to head out. Call the evidence team and catch a ride back with them to HQ once they wrap up. Have the MPs send a patrol car to collect Hinckley and let him call his sister to collect the dog.”
“Where you going?”
“Something came up.”
Evans didn’t seem sure what to make of that, but he nodded. “Okay.” He walked past Brodie toward the house.
