Sean clicked down the pen nib. He folded his arms and braced them on his desk. “No,” he said. “Unless you can convince me this isn’t a bad idea?”
“I’d need to convince myself first,” Javi said. He tapped the side of the coffee cup. “Can I get a refill before we start?”
Sean stared at him for a second. Intrigue gradually replaced the suspicion on his face, and he picked up his phone.
“Harry? I need two more coffees in here, and hold my calls,” he said. “I think we’ve got a new client.”
THE PROTESTERSwere back outside the bank. Farm trucks parked up on the sidewalk with Give Us Back Our Farms! banners duct-taped to the sides. Grim, weather-worn farmers with callused hands and mud-caked boots waved handwritten signs that demanded Fair Deals for Farmers next to skinny-jeaned hipsters from the coffee farms who waved dreadlocks and #Antitrust posters in the air. Other protesters, accompanied by their tired children, huddled together apart from the farmers, wearing T-shirts that cryptically demanded they Keep Plenty Plentiful.
Barriers along the street showed where the protest’s old perimeter was, but it had spilled into the road. The protesters blocked the route into the bank and yelled abuse across the shoulders of harried deputies and a clot of harried-looking businessmen with armfuls of blueprints.
Traffic had slowed to a crawl while drivers gawked at the brawl as they squeezed through the gauntlet of trucks and bodies. Javi sat on the road behind a station wagon and tried to avoid eye contact with the snotty-nosed little boy standing up in the back seat. He could taste the sour bile of second thoughts already. He didn’t need to watch a child pick its nose as well.
His Bluetooth trilled just as the traffic stuttered ahead a few feet. Javi changed gear and edged forward as he thumbed the green Call button on the steering wheel.
“Special Agent Merlo,” he said. “What is it?”
“I need to see you at the morgue.” Galloway never wasted much time on pleasantries, but she’d apparently abandoned them completely today. Under the crackle of the Bluetooth, her voice was clipped and impatient. “Today.”
Javi braked sharply as one of the protesters tripped and fell against the front of his car. His hip hit the metal with a thump, and he jumped back, hands up and mouth shaped around an apology. As he limped back into the crowd, Javi frowned at his back and then switched the expression back to the console.
“Galloway, I have to get into the office. I have reports to—”
“Today,” she repeated firmly. “Soon as possible.”
She hung up. Javi tapped his finger on the steering wheel again. Until the traffic moved another—he eyeballed the road to the nearest turnoff—six feet, his snap decision would have to wait. He assumed that Galloway’s sudden summons had to do with Janet—confirmation that she was the missing Macintosh child. What he didn’t get was why she needed him to go to the lab.
The deputies shoved a path through the crowd to let the business group into the bank. As the protesters closed ranks behind them, the outer perimeter collapsed. Cars squeezed through and away.
Javi took the turn. The wheel of his car bumped over the base of one of the barriers, and he pulled up the preprogrammed route to the morgue from his GPS. He knew the way, but he didn’t want to spend any more time stuck in traffic.
It took fifteen minutes to get to the highway. As he settled into the drive, he sent a quick voicemail to Sue to let her know he wasn’t going to be in. Then he called Cloister.
“Witte.”
“Honey, I’m going to be late for dinner tonight,” Javi drawled sarcastically. It occurred to him that it wasn’t actually that sarcastic. After all the fuss he’d made about being there for Cloister until he got the cast off, he probably owed him a heads-up he’d be late. “Galloway called. She wants to see me.”
There was a pause. Javi could imagine the suspicious squint on Cloister’s face. He wasn’t a man who took easily to affection.
“How is she?” Cloister finally asked.
“I didn’t ask,” Javi said. “Irritated. Look, before she called, I was going to check on an old drunk-and-disorderly call that involved Stokes and Andrew Macintosh Junior. Can you find it?”
“Where and when?”
“A couple of months before they were presumably murdered,” Javi said. “It was at a restaurant out on the coast road. No charges were pressed, but there should have been a log of the call.”
Cloister snorted. “That would have been to the sheriff’s department, not the police. It was probably at The Toast—far enough outside of town for cheaters to feel comfortable, but not far enough to avoid the occasional fight. I’ll see what I can find.”
“You’ve still got my spare key?” Javi said.
“Why, do you want it back?”
“Let yourself in,” Javi said. “The stuff in the fridge, that’s food.”
Cloister laughed and hung up.
GALLOWAY MIGHThave been paler than usual. It was hard to tell. She gave Javi a scathing look and ignored the question when he asked if she was okay.
