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A teenage boy and his distraught mother wait on the sidewalk, guarded by uniforms, when Cooper rolls to a stop at Hiller’s house. Cooper surprisingly lets me out of the car, and we follow a uniform into the house, listening to his report as we walk.
“The kid and mom have laptops. Hiller’s computer is password-protected in his office. The wife doesn’t know the password.”
“That’s red flag number one,” the detective says.
“There’s no physical evidence linking him to the victim, so we’ll have to wait for the lab to crack his computer. As far as they’re concerned, every case is a priority. It won’t be fast.”
Cooper shocks the hell out of me by saying, “Birdie’s an authorized resource. You got any others acceptable for a chain of evidence?”
“How about a CIA contractor? That official enough?”
“Give me a name.”
I write it down on the pad he hands me, and Cooper orders the uniform to take the computer tower to Knot Corp, just on my word. I send a message to Knot for him to expect the delivery and follow the detective back outside. His phone rings, and after listening to whatever news is delivered, the man swears.
Rounding on him, I wait until the call ends before I jump. “What?! What’s happening?”
“Hiller’s car either doesn’t have GPS, or it’s disabled. We can’t track the car, and his phone isn’t pinging.”
Swallowing down the despair threatening to cripple me, I ask, “What now?”
“Now we wait for the BOLO.”
“I can’t do that.”
I walk away from the detective, ready to call Frank to come pick me up when I spot the officer from inside exiting the house carrying Hiller’s computer. He’s going where I need to be, so I abandon Cooper and jog over to the man. “I’m going with you. I’ll get you through security.”
The uniform looks to the detective. Cooper wants to be where I’m going, knowing we’ll use resources and tactics unavailable and possibly illegal for him. But being a good cop, he sighs, knowing he’s bound by the laws he swore to uphold. Cooper nods to the uniform, resigned.
The drive to Knot Corp only takes twenty minutes since rush hour traffic has mostly cleared. Seeing the squad car with me in the front seat, security doesn’t stop us. They open the gate and wave us through.
Frank, who’s returned long before now, meets us at the entrance with a rolling cart. The cop retrieves the tower from the trunk and places it on the cart, following Frank to the elevator and, ultimately, Knot’s office.
The former SEAL turned executive rushes to meet us when we walk in and quickly signs the chain of evidence form. He barely acknowledges the officer or me before pushing the cart right back out the door. No doubt, he’s on his way to the war room.
I thank the cop and leave Frank to escort him back downstairs and then jog to catch up with Knot. “Good work, Bash,” he says when I reach the elevator where he’s waiting.
“Only if it leads us to Birdie,” I fire back.
Cle and Squid’s faces fill the giant screen when we enter Knot’s battle planning room. The two look like they’ve been anxiously awaiting the computer’s arrival and are now waiting for Knot to hook up Hiller’s system. Once that’s done, the Pantera people dive in, leaving Knot and me standing around with our thumbs up our asses again.
Birdie’s now been missing for almost three hours. I pace the floor, waiting for anyone to find something that will tell me where this bastard has taken my woman.
“Guys, not that it’s bothering me, but there’s no use in you waiting around,” Squid announces. “Breaking into this thing is going to take a while. Why don’t you go get some food? We’ll call when we get in.”
Knot steps in front of me to answer. “We won’t be far.”
He essentially pushes me toward the door, though I would rather stay. “Leave them to it. They are the best, I swear. I can’t tell you how many times I tried to hire them both away from Pantera, but they’re all related by marriage or some shit and won’t split up. Believe it or not, Cle Maxwell is who Birdie wants to be when she grows up, or so Birdie says.”
“Don’t patronize me, Knot. I don’t need you trying to calm me down.”
The defense powerhouse chuckles, but there’s no humor in the sound. His tough front fades just a little when he says, “I think I’m saying it for myself just as much as you.”
Dammit. If he has doubts… Pulling a one-eighty, I’m returning to the war room when Knot grabs my shoulder and practically frog-marches me to the cafeteria. Once there, he shoves a cup of coffee in my hands and my ass into a chair.
He gives me one hell of a warning glare, pinning me to the seat before walking toward the cold storage. A minute later, he returns with a steaming cup for himself and two sandwiches. Knot sits down, sliding one of the sandwiches over to me, and orders, “Talk me through it.”
I get the idea he’s not referring to the investigation into Hiller. “What do you want to know?”