stockpiling food and supplies.”
“And guns.”
Andrea looked at Torres.
“They aren’t using cell phones or landlines that we’ve been able to tell,” Jon said. “And there’s no Internet connection.”
She scoffed.
“What?”
“If Gavin’s living there, there’s Internet. He’s a computer junkie.”
Jon glanced at Torres again and back at Andrea.
“And what’s your plan?” Jon asked. “You can’t stay here forever. Don’t you have a job to get back to?”
She bristled. “My plan is to help Gavin. He needs to get back to Lubbock so he can graduate.”
Jon stood up. He stepped closer, and she got the feeling she was about to hear the real point of this meeting.
“So you refuse to leave.” He folded his arms over his chest.
“I’m not leaving until I talk some sense into my brother.”
“Problem is, Andrea, you’re a cop. Hardin is going to hear about you going around town asking questions about him, if he hasn’t already. That puts him on guard and jeopardizes our investigation.”
“Your investigation has nothing to do with me. Or my brother.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Jon said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We’ve been trying to build this case for months, and we could use someone on the inside,” he said. “You could get your brother to help us.”
“What, you mean get him to wear a wire?” She pushed away from the wall and felt her temper rising along with her voice. “That’s what you mean, right? Maybe I can persuade him to walk up to Shay Hardin and casually ask him where he was—oh, I don’t know—July fourth, six summers ago? Great idea. Then my family can sit around for six long years waiting for you to solve the mystery after Gavin turns up in some ditch with a bullet in his brain.”
Jon’s expression hardened. “You should think about it, Andrea.”
Both men stared at her. The only sound in the room was the faint crackling of the police scanner.
“I’d like a ride back to town now.”
She jerked open the door and stepped out into the blinding sunlight. The wind whipped against her cheeks as Jon joined her on the steps.
“You get him to talk to us, you’d be doing him a favor,” he said.
“Gavin was in high school when that judge died. He had absolutely nothing to do with it, so don’t act like you have some leverage against him.”
She stalked down the steps and across the dirt. She heard him follow, but she didn’t look at him as she climbed into the truck.
“Think about it, Andrea. Hardin is bad news. You know it as well as I do. That’s why you came all the way out here.” He started the truck. His gaze was on her, but she refused to look. “He’s using your brother for something—and whatever it is can’t be good.”
♦
Special Agent Elizabeth LeBlanc stared at the portly bank manager and waited for him to get to the point. She’d been listening for ten minutes, and still the man was totally in the weeds. Finally, she interrupted his description of the Italian sub he’d ordered for lunch.
“All right, and when you returned from the sandwich shop, which door did you use?”
“The back, like always,” he said.
“Did you get a look at any of the customers in line?”
“Um, no. Not really.”
Elizabeth jotted it in her notebook. So far, no one had noticed the robber except for the teller who’d received his typewritten note. No one besides the teller had even realized a crime was occurring until the perpetrator was out the door.
The bank manager shifted back and forth on his feet. His gaze flicked to her notepad, and he wiped his palms on the sides of his suit jacket.
She tried to put him at ease with a smile. “Well, it’s too bad you didn’t see him. But those are the breaks, right? I’m sure the lobby footage will be able to tell us more.”
He looked at her blankly.
“The surveillance footage? Your assistant said—”
“Oh, yes, of course. Let me check on that.”
He scurried into the
“And guns.”
Andrea looked at Torres.
“They aren’t using cell phones or landlines that we’ve been able to tell,” Jon said. “And there’s no Internet connection.”
She scoffed.
“What?”
“If Gavin’s living there, there’s Internet. He’s a computer junkie.”
Jon glanced at Torres again and back at Andrea.
“And what’s your plan?” Jon asked. “You can’t stay here forever. Don’t you have a job to get back to?”
She bristled. “My plan is to help Gavin. He needs to get back to Lubbock so he can graduate.”
Jon stood up. He stepped closer, and she got the feeling she was about to hear the real point of this meeting.
“So you refuse to leave.” He folded his arms over his chest.
“I’m not leaving until I talk some sense into my brother.”
“Problem is, Andrea, you’re a cop. Hardin is going to hear about you going around town asking questions about him, if he hasn’t already. That puts him on guard and jeopardizes our investigation.”
“Your investigation has nothing to do with me. Or my brother.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Jon said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We’ve been trying to build this case for months, and we could use someone on the inside,” he said. “You could get your brother to help us.”
“What, you mean get him to wear a wire?” She pushed away from the wall and felt her temper rising along with her voice. “That’s what you mean, right? Maybe I can persuade him to walk up to Shay Hardin and casually ask him where he was—oh, I don’t know—July fourth, six summers ago? Great idea. Then my family can sit around for six long years waiting for you to solve the mystery after Gavin turns up in some ditch with a bullet in his brain.”
Jon’s expression hardened. “You should think about it, Andrea.”
Both men stared at her. The only sound in the room was the faint crackling of the police scanner.
“I’d like a ride back to town now.”
She jerked open the door and stepped out into the blinding sunlight. The wind whipped against her cheeks as Jon joined her on the steps.
“You get him to talk to us, you’d be doing him a favor,” he said.
“Gavin was in high school when that judge died. He had absolutely nothing to do with it, so don’t act like you have some leverage against him.”
She stalked down the steps and across the dirt. She heard him follow, but she didn’t look at him as she climbed into the truck.
“Think about it, Andrea. Hardin is bad news. You know it as well as I do. That’s why you came all the way out here.” He started the truck. His gaze was on her, but she refused to look. “He’s using your brother for something—and whatever it is can’t be good.”
♦
Special Agent Elizabeth LeBlanc stared at the portly bank manager and waited for him to get to the point. She’d been listening for ten minutes, and still the man was totally in the weeds. Finally, she interrupted his description of the Italian sub he’d ordered for lunch.
“All right, and when you returned from the sandwich shop, which door did you use?”
“The back, like always,” he said.
“Did you get a look at any of the customers in line?”
“Um, no. Not really.”
Elizabeth jotted it in her notebook. So far, no one had noticed the robber except for the teller who’d received his typewritten note. No one besides the teller had even realized a crime was occurring until the perpetrator was out the door.
The bank manager shifted back and forth on his feet. His gaze flicked to her notepad, and he wiped his palms on the sides of his suit jacket.
She tried to put him at ease with a smile. “Well, it’s too bad you didn’t see him. But those are the breaks, right? I’m sure the lobby footage will be able to tell us more.”
He looked at her blankly.
“The surveillance footage? Your assistant said—”
“Oh, yes, of course. Let me check on that.”
He scurried into the
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