Page 65 of Vortex (FBI Thriller 25)

You said that too fast, Alex.

He came around his desk, shook her hand. “I hope you’re feeling better after last night.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You never told me what you thought of Pamela.”

Mia said honestly, “I found her very impressive, Alex. She’s smart, committed to your future and hers with you. I’d say she could be relentless in getting what she wants. I agree with you, the two of you fit hand in glove. You’ll make an impressive team. Let me add she looks excellent in black Armani. Thank you for giving me some of your precious time. I’m sure we’ll speak again. Soon.”

She walked to the office door, turned, and smiled at him. “It was a pleasure speaking with some of the people who influenced your life, Alex. You can look for my first article sometime next week.”

“Of course. I’ll look forward to it, Mia.”

When she closed the door behind her, she saw he was standing tall behind his desk, the committed leader in rolled-up sleeves, looking every bit the workingman’s champion.

Sherlock was waiting for her in a small café near the campaign headquarters. Mia slid into the booth across from her, gave her a fist bump. “He’s first-rate at cat and mouse, Sherlock, played the game like a pro. Hardly any tells, but I saw them.”

Sherlock fist-bumped her back. “It sounds like you hit exactly the right note.” She pointed down at a steaming mug. “Tea, Dillon’s favorite, plain. Drink it, Mia, it’ll warm you up.”

Mia poured in milk and added two fake sugars, clicked her mug to Sherlock’s.

Sherlock said, “Tommy called a few minutes ago. I told you he’d tracked down the cars registered to Alex Harrington and Kent Harper seven years ago—a red Jaguar XJ12 and a BMW 330i, and their license plates. He called Creighton’s police chief, asked him to look again at the photos they’d collected from students’ cell phones at the rave. Great piece of luck—turns out we’ve got a red Jaguar with a visible out-of-state license plate. It belonged to Harrington. A big nail, Mia, a very big nail.”

“That’s amazing—but, it’s not enough, is it?”

Sherlock took Mia’s hand in hers and squeezed. “No, but it is the first big nail. It puts them at the rave. It means we’re on our way. Everything’s going to move fast now.” Sherlock’s cell belted out Post Malone’s “Into the Spider-Verse.” She listened, tapped off, gave Mia a big smile. “Good timing, she’s on her way. We’ll meet her there.”