pick me up.”
“Where are we dining?”
“At the Yellow Dog Cafe, just south of Melbourne. It’s not a long drive.”
“I’ve heard good things about it. We’ll see you later.”
Holly hung up and went back to work on her personnel files, completing the job while having a sandwich at her desk. Then her phone rang.
“Holly Barker.”
“Hi, it’s Harry.”
“Hello, Harry. How are you?”
“Good. You free for dinner on Saturday night?”
“No, I’ve just made plans; Ham and I are dining with friends.”
“How about Sunday night?”
“Okay. What brings you up this way?”
“It’s not me; his name is Grant Early.”
“Harry, are you trying to fix me up?”
“Not exactly. He’s one of my people and he’s going to be spending some time in your area.”
“Doing what?”
“I think we need a presence around there—not exactly an agent in residence, more of a…”
“Harry, is he going to be undercover?”
“Well, yes. He’ll explain that to you. I’d appreciate it if you’d give him any help you can.”
“What could I possibly do for him that the FBI can’t?”
Harry paused to think about that. “He might need some on-the-ground assistance,” he said finally.
“Well, okay, Harry. Have him call me about Sunday.”
“He’s right here; I’ll put him on.”
“Hello?” a man’s deep voice said.
“Hello.”
“Holly Barker?”
“Yes.”
“This is Grant Early.”
“Sounds like a bourbon.”
“Usually people say scotch. I take it we’re on for dinner on Sunday?”
“All right.” Holly didn’t know why she was agreeing to this.
“Will you book us a table at some place you like a lot? I’ll pick you up at seven, if that’s all right.”
“All right.”
“Harry says he’ll give me directions to your place.”
“Okay.”
“How should I dress?”
“We’re pretty casual up here; a jacket but no tie should do.”
“See you then. Here’s Harry.”
“Holly, I appreciate this. Don’t blame Grant if he can’t tell you everything.”
“I’ll blame you.”
Harry laughed.
“Harry, have you been bugging my phones?”
“Huh?” His surprise sounded genuine.
“Somebody has; the FBI is good at that.”
“Who do you think it is?”
“My first guess was you.”
“Wrong. What’s your second guess?”
“I don’t have one.”
“You working on something exotic?”
“Nope.”
“You working on something unexotic that someone might want to know about?”
“Not that I can think of, and believe me, I’ve thought about it. Whoever it is, is bugging Ham, too, and since he has a new girlfriend, he’s not happy about it.”
“Why don’t you talk to Grant about this on Sunday night? Maybe he’ll have some ideas.”
“Okay.”
“And watch your back; I don’t like the sound of this.”
“Okay.” Holly hung up feeling uneasy. She didn’t like the sound of it, either, but she hadn’t thought about watching her back.
Her phone rang again.
“Holly Barker.”
“Chief, it’s Teddy Wright.” He sounded sheepish.
“How are you feeling, Teddy?”
“A lot better; I want to come back to work today.”
“No dice; you’re taking two sick days. I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.”
“But what am I going to do? I’ll go nuts sitting around here.”
“Watch soap operas; that shouldn’t put any strain on your newly concussed brain.”
“I hate soap operas.”
“So do I. Try reading.”
“I’m not much of a reader.”
“Teddy, you’re wasting my time. I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.”
“Okay, Chief.” Teddy hung up.
Once again, Holly felt motherly.
13
O n Saturday morning Holly drove out to the Orchid Beach airport and found the Orchid Flight Academy. She had been there before, she realized.
The building was broken into a warren of small rooms with desks and computers, and most of them were busy. Ginny Heller was seated in a glassed-in office at the back of the small building.
“Good morning,”
“Where are we dining?”
“At the Yellow Dog Cafe, just south of Melbourne. It’s not a long drive.”
“I’ve heard good things about it. We’ll see you later.”
Holly hung up and went back to work on her personnel files, completing the job while having a sandwich at her desk. Then her phone rang.
“Holly Barker.”
“Hi, it’s Harry.”
“Hello, Harry. How are you?”
“Good. You free for dinner on Saturday night?”
“No, I’ve just made plans; Ham and I are dining with friends.”
“How about Sunday night?”
“Okay. What brings you up this way?”
“It’s not me; his name is Grant Early.”
“Harry, are you trying to fix me up?”
“Not exactly. He’s one of my people and he’s going to be spending some time in your area.”
“Doing what?”
“I think we need a presence around there—not exactly an agent in residence, more of a…”
“Harry, is he going to be undercover?”
“Well, yes. He’ll explain that to you. I’d appreciate it if you’d give him any help you can.”
“What could I possibly do for him that the FBI can’t?”
Harry paused to think about that. “He might need some on-the-ground assistance,” he said finally.
“Well, okay, Harry. Have him call me about Sunday.”
“He’s right here; I’ll put him on.”
“Hello?” a man’s deep voice said.
“Hello.”
“Holly Barker?”
“Yes.”
“This is Grant Early.”
“Sounds like a bourbon.”
“Usually people say scotch. I take it we’re on for dinner on Sunday?”
“All right.” Holly didn’t know why she was agreeing to this.
“Will you book us a table at some place you like a lot? I’ll pick you up at seven, if that’s all right.”
“All right.”
“Harry says he’ll give me directions to your place.”
“Okay.”
“How should I dress?”
“We’re pretty casual up here; a jacket but no tie should do.”
“See you then. Here’s Harry.”
“Holly, I appreciate this. Don’t blame Grant if he can’t tell you everything.”
“I’ll blame you.”
Harry laughed.
“Harry, have you been bugging my phones?”
“Huh?” His surprise sounded genuine.
“Somebody has; the FBI is good at that.”
“Who do you think it is?”
“My first guess was you.”
“Wrong. What’s your second guess?”
“I don’t have one.”
“You working on something exotic?”
“Nope.”
“You working on something unexotic that someone might want to know about?”
“Not that I can think of, and believe me, I’ve thought about it. Whoever it is, is bugging Ham, too, and since he has a new girlfriend, he’s not happy about it.”
“Why don’t you talk to Grant about this on Sunday night? Maybe he’ll have some ideas.”
“Okay.”
“And watch your back; I don’t like the sound of this.”
“Okay.” Holly hung up feeling uneasy. She didn’t like the sound of it, either, but she hadn’t thought about watching her back.
Her phone rang again.
“Holly Barker.”
“Chief, it’s Teddy Wright.” He sounded sheepish.
“How are you feeling, Teddy?”
“A lot better; I want to come back to work today.”
“No dice; you’re taking two sick days. I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.”
“But what am I going to do? I’ll go nuts sitting around here.”
“Watch soap operas; that shouldn’t put any strain on your newly concussed brain.”
“I hate soap operas.”
“So do I. Try reading.”
“I’m not much of a reader.”
“Teddy, you’re wasting my time. I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.”
“Okay, Chief.” Teddy hung up.
Once again, Holly felt motherly.
13
O n Saturday morning Holly drove out to the Orchid Beach airport and found the Orchid Flight Academy. She had been there before, she realized.
The building was broken into a warren of small rooms with desks and computers, and most of them were busy. Ginny Heller was seated in a glassed-in office at the back of the small building.
“Good morning,”
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