Page 101 of Night Hawk
She shook her head. “The guy isn’t on the internet at all.”
“Maybe we should pay Ziegler a visit.”
She’d been thinking the same thing. “Blake said Ziegler doesn’t like surprise visitors.”
“Yeah, but you can charm him into talking to us, can’t you?” He popped another fry into his mouth.
“You aren’t really asking me to exploit the fact that I’m a woman?”
“Not politically correct these days, but come on. Look at me. No way I’m charming a retired sheriff.” He grinned.
She might not like fighting with Clay, but she was enjoying getting to know his brother. “Fine. I’ll try. But I have to warn you. I’m not very good at charming people.”
“Then play on his sympathies for your family.”
“That would just be wrong.”
Drake sat up, and his jaw clenched. “I might not like the way Clay handled getting everyone deputized, but one thing I agree with him on. We have to do whatever we need to do to save these girls.”
Her appetite vanished, and she set down her burger.
Her cell chimed. Good. Just what she needed. A distraction. She grabbed it from the table. “Text is from my dad’s old boss. He got the key we sent. He’s headed to the bank now. He’ll report back on what he finds.”
Drake smothered another fry in ketchup. “You must be excited to finally find out what’s in the box.”
“Excited. Apprehensive.” She picked up her soda and took a long drink. “Maybe more apprehensive after the recent surprises.”
Drake polished off his burger and wiped his mouth. “Can’t even imagine, but you seem to be holding up pretty well.”
“My ability to compartmentalize, I guess. I learned it at work.”
“Yeah, we all learn that skill in law enforcement or burn out. I don’t honestly know how the officers without any faith make it.”
She covered her plate and closed her laptop.
Drake picked up his glass. “Looks like you’re itching to go.”
“That obvious, huh?”
“Then let’s get after it.” He chugged his drink and grabbed a handful of fries. “Just don’t get into any trouble and need rescuing until I finish these fries. They’re too good to have to pitch so I can go for my gun.”
She laughed with him, grateful for his company. Without him, she would be sulking over Clay instead of laughing. Drake chowed down on his fries on the ride down the elevator and dusted his salty hands on his cargo pants.
He leaned out the door to take a look before pushing it all the way open and standing back. He might’ve joked about his fries, but like the other Byrds, safety came first for him. They crossed the lot to the vehicle, and thirty-five minutes later, they were pulling into Ziegler’s driveway.
“Let me get out first so he recognizes one of us,” she said. By the time she slid out, Ziegler was pushing open the screen door.
“Agent Long.” His tone was a cross between annoyance and surprise.
“Sorry to come by unannounced, but I had a few more questions about my sister’s disappearance.”
He tipped his head at the vehicle. “Who’s with you?”
“Drake Byrd.”
“Thought you were sweet on the other one. Clay. Why the brother?”
“I never said I was—”
