The time stamp at the bottom showed 12:56. They watched the grainy black-and-white image as a man entered the bank. Baseball cap pulled low, zipped jacket. Nothing remarkable given the weather.
“Gloves,” Elizabeth said. She wasn’t surprised.
He waited patiently in line, keeping his head down, as if reading the slip of paper in his hand. When his turn came, he approached the teller.
“Hit pause.” North leaned closer. “Damn it.”
“Damn it, what?”
He glanced at her. “He’s too short.”
“Too short for what?”
“Shay Hardin.”
Okay, now she understood. Shay Hardin was a person of interest in North’s resurrected murder case. Several of the agents in her office had been helping out with the background checks.
“I’m going to need a copy of this tape,” North told her.
“Sure.”
He returned to the counter in the lobby and picked up the file she’d been compiling. “Vehicle?” he asked.
“We don’t know yet. Last three robberies in San Antonio all involved different vehicles, and the plates were conveniently obscured by mud. Want me to send the outdoor footage, too?”
“Thanks,” he said. “I’d wait for it, but I need to get back.”
“Air taxi’s leaving?”
He smiled slightly.
“How are things going out in Maverick?” she asked.
“So-so.”
“You know, I’m not really up to speed on your case, but . . . I should probably give you a heads-up.”
He lifted an eyebrow.
“Word is they’re planning to yank you guys out soon.”
He didn’t look surprised.
“It’s just something I heard,” she said. “Think they need all hands on deck for the Saledo case.”
North’s jaw tightened, and he shook his head.
“Can you blame them? The cartels are out of control,” she said. “They executed five people in Brownsville last weekend. And then there’s Al Qaeda. Every office is stepping it up after the university bombing.”
“I thought that was just a theory.”
“Not anymore.”
His gaze sharpened.
“You haven’t heard? They traced the minivan used in the bombing through the number stamped on the axle,” she said. “Vehicle comes back to a cleric at a mosque in Philly. He was pretty radical, from what I understand.”
“Was?”
“It was a suicide attack.”
North looked over her shoulder, his expression inscrutable as he stared out at the street. The afternoon sun slanted through the windows and made the stubble on his face stand out. She waited for him to say something. North wasn’t a big talker. He was known for being a loner, as she was, and he had a reputation for going against the grain. But so far, that had worked for him, and he also had a reputation as a solid investigator.
He glanced at his watch.
“I’ll send you that footage,” she told him.
“Appreciate it.”
“Say hi to Jimmy for me. And good luck with your case. Whatever you’re looking for, I hope you find it soon.”
♦
Andrea was on her eighth Hershey’s Miniature when a knock sounded at the door. She padded across the room in her socks and peered through the peephole. Her heart lurched. She wasn’t expecting visitors, and she definitely wasn’t expecting Jon North in civilian clothes with an easygoing smile on his face.
She opened the door.
“Hi,” he said.
She put her hand on her hip, instantly wary. They hadn’t exactly parted on friendly terms.
“May I come in?”
She pulled the door back. He stepped inside and glanced at the bed, where her laptop was propped on a pillow.
“Working?” he asked.
“Yep.”
“You had dinner?”
“Yep.”
“How about a drink, then?”
She tipped her head to the side.
“There’s a decent pub up the road,” he said. “They’ve got a lot of beers on tap.”
“Aren’t you worried about your cover?”
“It’s in Fort Stockton.”
She looked him over. Gray flannel shirt tucked into jeans. Worn sneakers. Except for the Sig Sauer hiding under his brown leather jacket, he looked almost like a
“Gloves,” Elizabeth said. She wasn’t surprised.
He waited patiently in line, keeping his head down, as if reading the slip of paper in his hand. When his turn came, he approached the teller.
“Hit pause.” North leaned closer. “Damn it.”
“Damn it, what?”
He glanced at her. “He’s too short.”
“Too short for what?”
“Shay Hardin.”
Okay, now she understood. Shay Hardin was a person of interest in North’s resurrected murder case. Several of the agents in her office had been helping out with the background checks.
“I’m going to need a copy of this tape,” North told her.
“Sure.”
He returned to the counter in the lobby and picked up the file she’d been compiling. “Vehicle?” he asked.
“We don’t know yet. Last three robberies in San Antonio all involved different vehicles, and the plates were conveniently obscured by mud. Want me to send the outdoor footage, too?”
“Thanks,” he said. “I’d wait for it, but I need to get back.”
“Air taxi’s leaving?”
He smiled slightly.
“How are things going out in Maverick?” she asked.
“So-so.”
“You know, I’m not really up to speed on your case, but . . . I should probably give you a heads-up.”
He lifted an eyebrow.
“Word is they’re planning to yank you guys out soon.”
He didn’t look surprised.
“It’s just something I heard,” she said. “Think they need all hands on deck for the Saledo case.”
North’s jaw tightened, and he shook his head.
“Can you blame them? The cartels are out of control,” she said. “They executed five people in Brownsville last weekend. And then there’s Al Qaeda. Every office is stepping it up after the university bombing.”
“I thought that was just a theory.”
“Not anymore.”
His gaze sharpened.
“You haven’t heard? They traced the minivan used in the bombing through the number stamped on the axle,” she said. “Vehicle comes back to a cleric at a mosque in Philly. He was pretty radical, from what I understand.”
“Was?”
“It was a suicide attack.”
North looked over her shoulder, his expression inscrutable as he stared out at the street. The afternoon sun slanted through the windows and made the stubble on his face stand out. She waited for him to say something. North wasn’t a big talker. He was known for being a loner, as she was, and he had a reputation for going against the grain. But so far, that had worked for him, and he also had a reputation as a solid investigator.
He glanced at his watch.
“I’ll send you that footage,” she told him.
“Appreciate it.”
“Say hi to Jimmy for me. And good luck with your case. Whatever you’re looking for, I hope you find it soon.”
♦
Andrea was on her eighth Hershey’s Miniature when a knock sounded at the door. She padded across the room in her socks and peered through the peephole. Her heart lurched. She wasn’t expecting visitors, and she definitely wasn’t expecting Jon North in civilian clothes with an easygoing smile on his face.
She opened the door.
“Hi,” he said.
She put her hand on her hip, instantly wary. They hadn’t exactly parted on friendly terms.
“May I come in?”
She pulled the door back. He stepped inside and glanced at the bed, where her laptop was propped on a pillow.
“Working?” he asked.
“Yep.”
“You had dinner?”
“Yep.”
“How about a drink, then?”
She tipped her head to the side.
“There’s a decent pub up the road,” he said. “They’ve got a lot of beers on tap.”
“Aren’t you worried about your cover?”
“It’s in Fort Stockton.”
She looked him over. Gray flannel shirt tucked into jeans. Worn sneakers. Except for the Sig Sauer hiding under his brown leather jacket, he looked almost like a
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