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When he picked up, he said, “Is this you, or a sheriff’s deputy again?”
She smiled to herself. “It’s me.”
“How is your head?”
She filled him in on that and everything else, up to why she hadn’t pulled out of this parking lot.
“You found him?”
“I hope so. There’s a deputy on the way.”
“I’ll have to push the paperwork through so they know he’s a federal suspect, wanted for questioning. Otherwise, they might not hold him.”
Tilley had assaulted Kenna, but he could simply be charged and released pending a court date. She would only press charges this time for the sake of the FBI needing him in custody. Normally, she wouldn’t have bothered about being tackled or having a stalker. But Stan was a means to an end.
Kenna said, “You can probably get the address of the motel where he’s staying from the app you have where you can see my location.”
Jax said nothing for a second. “Are you mad?”
“I want to know what it’s called so I can get it. Although, it seems to already be installed on my phone without my knowledge.”
“Maizie wanted to know where you were,” he explained, “and it was easier than putting a separate tracker on you.”
Kenna rolled her eyes. “Maybe I want to see whereyouare.”
“You can. If you show up in person and visit me, you’ll see exactly where I am.”
“I’m on a case.”
“Funny. Me, too.”
“It’s a Sunday. You should go home and rest.” Kenna shifted in her seat, which was just starting to heat up.
“I could say the same thing about you,” Jax said. “And tidy up the RV, because I might be there in a couple of days.”
Kenna chuckled. “Who says I’ll invite you in? You can stay with Kobrinsky.”
Jax laughed. “Wanna go out for dinner while I’m there?”
He really thought his boss would approve of a trip to Wisconsin to secure Stan Tilley in custody, with the hopes of flipping him into revealing the Walker’s whereabouts? “There’s a grill I’ve been to a couple of times we could go to.”
“Let’s make it a date.”
She wasn’t sure what sounded scarier—Jax being up here, putting his life at risk, or sitting across a table from each other and trying to think of something to say that wasn’t about work.
He chuckled. “You’re scared of me.”
“As if I’m going to give you the satisfaction of admitting that.” It was more complicated, but it also wasn’t.
“Don’t worry so much. God knows what He’s doing.”
Kenna stared through the windshield at the motel, and the dark room where Stan Tilley had paid for a room. He was right, but letting go and allowing God to be in control was another one of those complicated/not complicated things. “I had questions about the sermon from this morning, but that was before I got knocked unconscious, so I’ll have to save those for later.”
“Paste your notes into an email and send it over. I’ll look.”
“Thanks.” She didn’t get a chance to say anything else tobreak up their comfortable silence because a marked police car bumped up the drive into the parking lot. “Cops are here.”
The deputy climbed out.