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A warm, giddy feeling skipped through her. “Yes, I’d like that.”
“I’ll text you my address,” he said.
“No! Don’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I’m sorry, it’s just that Garcia cloned my phone in case West contacts me.”
“And you don’t want him to know I invited you for dinner?” he asked with a smile.
She nodded.
“Ops pulls a tracker report, you know. I don’t care if you don’t. And it’s just dinner. Friends are allowed to have dinner together.”
An odd feeling twisted in her stomach, a cross between disappointment and embarrassment. But she wouldn’t let that stop her. “Yeah, true. I don’t care. Sure, text me the address.”
“Let me know what time you’ll be done for the day.”
“I will, thanks,” Laura Lee said. Then she returned to Caleb’s office to continue pulling names and reviewing case notes.
Several hours later, Smith stood and stretched. “It’s nearly eighteen hundred. Let’s knock off for the night. I promised my dad and Hollyn I’d bring dinner home tonight.”
“So, Hollyn’s staying at your place now? I heard she’s working at Doctor Diana’s office.”
“Yes, to both,” he said with a big smile. “She and my dad get along great. It’s good for them both. Hollyn’s doing better, but she still has moments that she has panic attacks because of what happened up in Michigan.”
“I bet,” Laura Lee said. “I heard about it. I also heard you went on the Op, Rambo Smith,” she teased.
He laughed. “No. not quite. My part was very safe.”
“That’s not what I heard. I heard you had to shoot one of the Russians.”
Caleb Smith frowned and nodded. “Yeah, well, it was safe up until that moment.”
She could tell that he didn’t want to talk about it, so she let it drop. “I hope Hollyn works through the panic attacks soon. Is she seeing Lassiter?”
“Yes,” he replied. Then he closed the lid to his tablet and crossed his office to where his backpack sat. He began packing up. “Can you be in at zero seven hundred tomorrow and we’ll pick back up, then?”
“Yes, see you then,” Laura Lee said. “Have a good night, Caleb.”
They left his office together.
Laura Lee knocked on the door to the address Brad Dupont sent her. She had driven one of the agency cars there. It was a condo complex near the office. Each unit had a one or two-car attached garage with short driveways, which was where she’d parked.
He opened the door, greeting her with a smile. “Hello.” He swung the door wide, inviting her in.
She stepped inside. Her eyes swept the room. “Wow, Brad, this is awesome,” she said.
It was one large open room with a living room space in the front, dining area and kitchen towards the back. A large black brick fireplace was the focal point in the room, centered along the wall on the right in the front half of the space. It was lit with a low, glowing fire of gas logs. A large screen television was mounted over it. The walls were painted a reflective medium gray. The furniture was black leather and looked overstuffed and comfortable. At the back of the room, the dining table and chairs were black with silver accents. The kitchen was stainless steel. Three doors were on the wall to the left.
“It’s home,” he said. “It’s comfortable.”
“And something smells amazing,” she said.
“Take your jacket off and come on back,” he said, his hand out to take it.
Laura Lee slipped her jean jacket off. The nights were getting cooler. She’d probably be chilled wearing it as she left, but it was cute, and she wanted to look nice when she arrived. Her agency fleece jacket was her other choice, but she didn’t want to look like one of the guys.