Cloister straightened up, brushed the dog hair off his hands onto his T-shirt, and lifted the cooled-down pan of lightly burned eggs from the stove.He split the technically still an omelet in half with the spatula, pushed the crispy mess into one of Bon’s bowls, and carried it outside.
The morning air was still cool—the heat of the day hadn’t fully kicked in yet—but still better than Montana would be in February.He set the metal bowl down at the side of the trailer and took a step back.
Strictly speaking, Bon should have stayed in her place until Cloister released her.Technically, shewasstill on her mat; she’d just combat crawled right up to the edge so she could watch him.It was dog-time, though, and she was on “place,” notplatz.She knew the difference.
“Friss,” Cloister told her as he tapped the side of the bowl with his foot.
Bourneville jumped out of the trailer and fell on breakfast like she’d not eaten food before.The bowl scraped back and forth over the grass and gravel as she nosed after the best bits of the meal.
As the rest of the trailer park residents left for the day, Cloister sat on the steps and ate breakfast with his dog.
And his dog’s cat, he noticed.Scraps was tucked behind the wheel of the trailer, pale and scraggly.He’d made a point to come and drop food for the stray, even though he knew at least four other residents did too, but he thought she’d missed her dog.
The tide came in, water as blue as something from an illustration and clean as not much in his life was, as he picked chunks of egg and turkey out of the pan with his fingers.
“Couldn’t do this as Javi’s,” he pointed out to Bourneville as he sucked the grease off his thumb.“He’d have a plate.”
Chapter Three
Javilikedsuits.
His were pricy, precise, and tailored to fit.
It wasn’t just because he looked good in them, though.He did,andhe knew it, but that was just a bonus.
A good suit—an expensive one, worn like you didn’t care—conveyed authority and distance.It made it easy to identify him as the lead voice at the scene.
Unfortunately, now that he wasn’t in charge….
Things had changed, and so had his wardrobe.
Javi scratched at the collar of his gray FBI-branded polo shirt, untucked to hide the gun clipped to his belt, and held out a leaflet to the one girl in the group of giggling teens who seemed genuinely interested in the display.
“Thinking about a future in law enforcement?”he asked, his face stiff with the effort to be approachable.
The short brunette looked a little surprised to be singled out.She juggled her armload of fair goods about until she freed up one hand to take the tri-fold pamphlet.
“I don’t know,” she said.“Maybe.I don’t know about the FBI, though.I was thinking more like a cop or something.”
One of the other girls, blond and tanned and stereotypically Californian, rolled her eyes.
“Oh my god, Maddy,” she huffed.“You don’t decide your future career because a hot cop caught your stalker.Hear the man out.You could be the next Agent Scully.”
“Who?”Maddy asked.
“The redhead in that old cop show that my dad likes,” the girl said.She poked Maddy in the shoulder with a sharp-nailed finger.“Talk to the Fed.I bet they get paid more than a deputy sheriff.”
Maddy slapped at her friend’s hand with the leaflet.“Then what’s he doing at a County Fair in Plenty?”she asked.There was a beat as her brain caught up with her mouth, and she gave him an apologetic, wrinkle-nosed smile.“Sorry.”
“It’s a fair question,” Javi said.“But Plenty’s actually got more going for it than you might think.At least, it does when it comes to crime.”
Maddy sniggered and used her thumb to unfold the leaflet.She glanced down the inside as Javi pointedly handed notebooks to the rest of the group.
A brief pitch later, and Maddy tucked Javi’s business card into her wallet.She hooked arms with her friend as they walked away, heads together as they pored over the leaflets.
Javi straightened a stack of thumbed-through magazines.That had…actually gone fairly well.
So he’d got first go at recruitment down and only…Javi checked his watch andfelthis shoulders sag…six hours left to go.
