Camouflage Cowboy. Jan Hambright
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jacket, he pulled an evidence bag out of the inside pocket. Grace may be tight-lipped with personal information, but DNA held no such pretenses, and he planned to make a mitochondrial comparison with the sample the governor had already given him. He grasped the glass at the bottom where she hadn’t touched it, dumped the remainder of the water into her unused coffee cup and eased the glass into the bag.
“Uh-huh.”
The sound of a throat being cleared raked over Nick’s nerves. He stared up at Faith and the coffeepot in her hand.
“What are you up to, Nick?” she asked as she topped off his java.
“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”
She grinned. “Does this have anything to do with your secret assignment for Governor Lockhart?”
Nick shook his head and slipped out of the booth. “You know the things we do at CSaI are hush-hush.” He winked at her as he tucked the evidence bag inside his jacket. As long as no one knew what that assignment was, the secret was safe.
“That’s stealing, Cavanaugh.”
“Not if I bring it back. Washed.”
Faith shook her head and grinned. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“While we’re telling secrets—” Nick pulled out his wallet and put a five on the table “—mind if I ask what you gave Grace at the counter a moment ago?”
“That’s no secret. Molly Alden left for college months ago. Gloria and I have been taking up the slack, but between taking care of Kaleigh and adjusting to having a man around again, I’m pooped. I need someone to fill in a couple nights a week. I gave Grace an application. I just hope she fills it out and gets it back to me. I like her.”
Nick grinned. Faith had recently won the heart of fellow CSaI agent and friend Matt Soarez. “I’d offer to help around here, but I’m not sure some of your regulars wouldn’t break me and cause me to spill the state secrets I have along with their coffee.”
“Stan Lorry and Fred March could probably pull it off,” Faith said with a chuckle, referring to her cranky elderly regulars. “The trouble would come when they told Allen Davidson and he aired it on his radio show.”
Nick did a fake shudder. “Spooky. I’ll see you later.” He headed for the door and stepped outside, where he immediately spotted the top of Grace’s head as she ducked into her car half a block up the street.
He fell into an easy stroll as she pulled away from the curb, headed due north. Probably to the hospital was his guess. He’d learned that she had a four-year-old son named Caleb who received some sort of treatments at Holy Cross every couple of weeks. The prescription drug bottle had confirmed it, but there were holes in Grace’s background history. Holes he’d yet to plug.
The sound of a revved engine caught his attention as he spotted a late-model black sedan with Montana license plates pull away from the curb and roll in a car’s length behind Grace.
Caution raked over his nerves. From his observation point on the park bench earlier, he’d seen the same car just after she’d arrived. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen the driver exit the vehicle.
He took a right onto 4th Street and dug the keys to his pickup out of his pocket. Was it possible the beautiful and cautious Grace Marshall was being followed by someone other than him? He decided to keep an eye out in order to confirm his suspicion.
NICK WALKED INTO Corps Security and Investigations headquarters still mulling over his and Grace Marshall’s brief encounter.
Harlan McClain sat behind his desk minus the black hoodie and sweatpants he’d used to disguise himself for the purse-snatching ruse.
“Thanks, buddy,” Nick said as he tossed his keys onto his desk and leaned against the edge. “Your timing was spot-on.”
Harlan swiveled his desk chair. “Did you get what you needed from her?”
“Yeah.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out the evidence bag. Holding it up to the light streaming in through one of the loft windows, he could see the clear imprint of Grace Marshall’s lips on the rim of the glass. Grace’s lips. Her perfect, kissable lips.
“You’re not going to tell me what the hell is going on, are you?” Harlan rocked forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
“Can’t, but suffice to say it’s an assignment that came down personally from Governor Lockhart.” Nick put the bag down on his desk and went around to the other side. He pulled open the file drawer, took out a lab form and sat down in his chair. The results of the DNA test on the lip impression would come in from their private lab in a week. It was the definitive piece of evidence he needed. He didn’t particularly like the method he’d been forced to use to obtain it, but in this case, the end did justify the means, and he’d be able to tell the governor conclusively whether or not Grace Marshall was her illegitimate daughter.
Nick filled out the paperwork, aware of the modulation of Nolan Law’s voice as he stepped out of his office, still talking on his cell phone.
“Is he awake yet?” A measure of excitement materialized in Nolan’s tone. They’d yet to catch a break in the case of a shooting at Governor Lockhart’s ranch, and their only link was Trevor Lewis, a man lying in the ICU, breathing with the help of a ventilator. The man Harlan McClain had so expertly perforated before he’d been able to hurt Stacy Giordano.
Nick looked up, watching Nolan pace back and forth as he talked to the team member assigned to guard Trevor Lewis, their only suspect in the war someone had instituted against Governor Lila Lockhart and her bid for the U.S. presidency.
“Who’s watching Lewis today?” Nick asked Harlan.
“Matteo. I take over at five.”
“Is Lewis still on a ventilator?” Nick turned in his chair to face his fellow team member.
“Yeah, but the doc is going to wake him up around four this afternoon. Nolan wants us there so we can persuade him to give up the name of the shooter who infiltrated the party at Twin Harts Ranch wearing a stolen deputy’s uniform. We need to nab the guy before he tries again.”
Nick couldn’t agree more, but he’d been an outsider on the case from the start. Forced instead to focus on his special assignment for the governor.
Nolan closed his phone and headed toward them. “Let’s go. The doctor told Matteo that Lewis is stable enough to breathe on his own. He’s going to remove the tube. He’ll give us five minutes to get some answers before they prep him for medical transport to the hospital in Amarillo.”
Anticipation clung to Nick’s nerves as he taped the lab request to the evidence bag and stood up, then on a whim, he picked up his pen and put an X next to the fingerprint-lift request, as well. Maybe Grace’s prints on the water glass could lead him to the holes in her life story if he decided to run them.
CSaI receptionist Amelia Bond glanced up from behind her desk near the front entrance, catching wind of the hustle being stirred up as Nolan hurried for the door.
On the way out, Nick put the evidence bag on Amelia’s desk for processing. He knew her efficiency would have the sample out today and the results back to him before he could stop thinking about Grace Marshall’s perfect lip impression on the edge of the glass.
Chapter Two
Nick pulled his vehicle in next to Nolan Law’s sleek black Mercedes. He’d never cared much for hospitals, cared even less for them now. He’d seen too many men perish in them and had come close to being a casualty himself not too long ago—before CSaI founder Bart Bellows gave him a reason to breathe again.
The hair on the back of his neck bristled as he climbed out and locked his pickup. He took a quick scan of the parking lot, searching for the source of the hinky feeling climbing all over his nerves. They were being watched.