Page 7 of Armed ’N’ Ready

“Yes, sir.” The kid nodded overemphatically.

He’d been a newbie once, too. Twice, actually. First in the Marines with Force Recon, later with the Mass State Police.

A soft huff had him glancing at Saxon, who still sat obediently a few feet away. The dog’s haunches bunched as he resisted the urge to come closer to Nick.

Before he could finish saying, “Hier,” Saxon bolted closer to the table and lay down at Nick’s feet.

“Good boy.” He gave the dog a quick pat on the head and began reading.

The first document was a DMV printout and photo. A smiling Andi Hardt stared back at him. Thick blond hair framed her face, but again it was her eyes that drew his attention. Not even a lousy DMV photo could hide her spirit that practically jumped off the page.

The next document was a Springfield Ledger article. The Ledger had interviewed Ms. Hardt over a year ago when she’d first opened the Dog Park Café in Wilbraham. The article had said it was risky opening up a restaurant so far from any big city.

Other documents filled the folder, but the most important ones were her bank records. Those, he couldn’t wait to grill her about.

His cell vibrated, and he pulled it from his shirt pocket. It was an incoming text message from Kade Sampson, a Department of Homeland Security K-9 officer stationed at JFK Airport in New York, and another of his best friends. They’d gone through K-9 training school together in Texas, along with Eric and a few other stand-up guys. Since then, their small group had been as tight as blood brothers.

Nick read Kade’s text and frowned.

“Bad news?” Cox asked.

“Myer hasn’t crossed any borders. Wherever he is, he hasn’t left the country. Legally that is.” They all knew it was entirely possible that he’d escaped through an unmonitored section of the border.

“Speaking of missing persons”—Cox canted his head toward the staircase—“where is she?”

“Still getting dressed, I assume.” And taking her sweet time doing it.

“We made entry nearly an hour ago.” Cox tapped a pen on the table. “How long does it take to get dressed?”

“Good question.” By his count, she should have been down already. Then again, he hadn’t lived with a woman in years. Five to be exact. Since his wife put a bullet in her brain. A painful, brutal reminder of his biggest failure—letting down the person he’d loved most.

He swallowed and stared at the phone in his hand, no longer seeing what was on the screen. It had taken years for him to stop grieving every single damned day of the week. He’d finally managed, but no way could he go through that again. Giving his heart away only to have it shatter into a million fucking pieces… Not gonna happen.

“Was she awake when you found her?”

He looked at Cox. “What?”

“I asked if she was awake when you found her?”

The agent wore an expression that told Nick he needed to pull his shit together and pay attention.

“Yeah. In the shower. Washing her dog,” he added as a quasi-plausible explanation as to what could be taking her so long.

Several agents and other officers looked his way and snickered. Word traveled fast during a search warrant, so he assumed everyone else knew exactly where he’d located Ms. Hardt.

“I see.” Cox grinned. “Not as much as you did, I’m guessing.”

He glared at Cox, making no effort to disguise his irritation. “She was wearing a bathing suit.” Granted, a little one.

For a Feeb, Cox was okay, but the implication that Nick really was a voyeur pissed him off. Not only had he done his best to minimize the woman’s embarrassment by keeping the other uniforms from entering the bathroom, but he’d tried to get the only female officer on site upstairs ASAP to deal with the situation.

Ignoring the jibe, he returned his gaze to the Accurint report in the folder. “Andi Hardt received her master’s from Columbia School of Business, then became a financial planner at an investment firm in New York City. After ten years with the firm, she picked up stakes, moved to Massachusetts, and opened the Dog Park Café.” Attached to the Accurint report was a printout from the restaurant’s website dated yesterday. He noted the ad in the upper right corner of the page. Bartender Wanted. Call Andi. A phone number was included, and he guessed it was either the number for the pink cell he’d grabbed upstairs, or another phone associated with the café.

“Interesting.” Cox made a few notes on a pad. “She and Myer both graduated from the Columbia School of Business, and they’re into financial planning. I’d say there’s a history there. With what we got from her bank, it looks like she’s buried at least up to her ass in Myer’s mess.”

“Looks like.” Nick tapped the keyboard idly with his fingers. “Photo upstairs aside, we’ve been surveilling him for six months and until now, never caught her once at the house. The only people we saw coming and going besides him were the cash mules dropping off envelopes in the mailbox. Could be something changed between them.”

Cox made another note. “Let’s get a subpoena for his and Andi Hardt’s cell phone records. Eventually we’ll get the laptop, and maybe we’ll see a pattern of calls between the two of them right before he makes a dirty financial transaction.”