Page 18 of Night Hawk
She looked at him, the tears still in her eyes.
She gave them an angry swipe. “Let’s get moving. I want to head back to Portland to pick up the records about this guy’s operation from Safe Harbor. See if we can find any mention of this place in them.”
Clay didn’t relish the long drive tonight, but he would make it for her. “We’ll leave your car, and I’ll drive you to Portland.”
She glanced back at her vehicle. “It would be better if Adair didn’t see us leave together.”
“Let me get on the road first, and we can meet up as soon as we’re out of his eyesight.”
She gave a sharp nod and charged across the lot to talk to one of the agents. Clay went to his Jeep, glad he’d already turned the snake over to the Feds. Not only because he didn’t want to deal with it, but it was evidence. Plus, he wanted the rattler as far away from Toni as possible.
He got his Jeep running and on the road, checking the mirror every few seconds to watch for her vehicle. Someone had tried to kill her, and he wanted her in his car and by his side. From that point on, he wouldn’t leave her out of his sight for very long. No matter what he had to do, he would keep her at his side until they found the creep who put the snake in the closet.
Clay pulled into the Veritas parking structure, glad to be safely behind secured gates. And soon to be out of the Jeep and away from the discomfort between him and Toni. Whatever topic he’d broached on the drive to her apartment, and again on the way here, she’d given short answers. She’d even quickly agreed to spend the night at Veritas. No objection. No question. He’d just said she would be safer there, and she’d acquiesced. So unlike her. Her dejection over being booted off the case seemed to be festering. Why didn’t she blow up and let it go like she used to do? Maybe she’d changed in the last year. Maybe she no longer exploded with anger. He’d changed, so why wouldn’t she have as she’d come to grips with her father’s death?
Still, he didn’t like seeing her so miserable. He had liked getting to see her home. The recently renovated warehouse apartment with a contemporary flair in the trendy neighborhood. The style fit her somehow. They’d made quick work of gathering her boxes, taking pictures of the murder board on her wall, and then dismantling it to take the items with them. They’d also brought along a box of her father’s belongings from his office in Virginia, where he’d retired and worked as a private investigator at a friend’s agency. She hadn’t found anything helpful in it, but he agreed to look through it just in case.
He ramped up in the parking garage to the top floor, and she faced him. “You actually think we’ll catch Hibbard this time? In the past, he thoroughly cleaned the places he abandoned but left his prints. It’s like he wanted us to know he was there, but not leave enough for us to find him.”
“He could be taunting us to stroke his massive ego.” Clay glanced at her. “But this time was different. He bolted and left plenty of items behind.”
“And yet, we don’t have access to them.”
“That’s true, but we’ll figure this out. I know we will.”
She shook her head. “I forgot how positive you always are. It’s great, but honestly, it can be irritating. You make it hard to be in a bad mood when I want to let my anger fuel my passion.”
He didn’t know how to respond to that so he didn’t. “You okay with leaving your files in my Jeep tonight?”
“Yeah. I’m way too tired to haul it all in.”
“I probably have all the same files. I made a copy of everything when we closed down Safe Harbor.”
She studied him. “I’m surprised we didn’t cross paths at the copier.”
Another thing he wouldn’t respond to. When they’d disbanded the task force, he’d tried to make himself scarce whenever she was around. He wasn’t proud of not being there for her. Not proud at all. Sure, he’d offered his condolences, but that was all. He would’ve—should’ve—done more. But the minute he started blaming himself for her dad’s death, he’d hardly been able to look her in the eye.
It took a lot of prayer and introspection to finally realize her father dying wasn’t his fault. Sure, Clay might’ve been in charge of the op, but how could he have predicted her dad would show up? He couldn’t have. Not when the guy wasn’t on anyone’s radar as related to the case. Even now, they couldn’t find a connection. So Clay might still feel some guilt, but he knew for certain that he wasn’t to blame.
He pulled into his parking spot, and his phone dinged. After shifting into park, he looked at it. “A text from Blake. He said Hibbard’s name never came up when he was sheriff, but he’ll give Sheriff Winfield a call first thing in the morning for us.”
“Perfect.”
They got out into the blustery wind howling through the parking structure, and he grabbed her overnight bag.
“You don’t have to carry that,” she said.
He slammed the hatch. “No worries. Always aim to please.”
She arched a brow like she had him pegged—knew that he really did have a thing about pleasing people if he could. Don’t rock the boat. That was him. Except when it came to suspects. They deserved as much rocking as he could offer.
He got the door open using his fingers on the print reader. “We’ll have to get a security badge for you at the front desk. Keep it on you at all times, and you can’t go unescorted anywhere in the building.”
She gave the easy smile of acquiescence again, and they boarded the elevator. He punched the lobby button and a yawn caught him off guard.
“Late night,” she said.
“They all are these days. After we formed the agency, I foolishly hoped we’d be working fewer hours, but I underestimated the work it would take to get a business off the ground. There’s so much more than doing the job. Payroll. Taxes. Reports. Record keeping. Planning. Budgets. I could go on for hours. Still, I think it’ll slow down once we’re established, and I might be able to think about a normal life.”
