He finishes, zips his pants back up, and returns to his truck.
Before he gets in, Bob stops in. “Tomorrow at ten. Got it?”
“Got it.” The guy gets into the truck, and Bob goes back inside.
“Asshole,” the guy says. His window is open, and I heard him, but I doubt Bob could. Then he pulls out and leaves.
All right, tomorrow at ten. I wonder if he meant in the morning or at night. Either way, I’ll be here. And if it’s ten at night, I might be here all day. I better figure out how to pack food.
I make my way back the way I came. Then I get to my car and realize I have nowhere to go. I can’t go home. Or at least I don’t trust home. There is no way I’m going to the office. My cabin is a bit far.
Hunter requested that I stay with his sister. His concern was sincere, and I smile, remembering it. After I left the hospital, I called Maria, and she agreed I should stay with her. But I was scared and found myself in New Jersey.
I send her a text to confirm, and she replies quickly that yes, I’m welcome. My shoulders relax with relief.
I start my car and glance in the rearview mirror. This outfit isn’t something I want to explain to her.
I recline my seat and get into the back seat to change. I’m much more aware of the people walking by the car, so I’m careful not to expose myself in any way. Then I shove everything into the bag from the thrift store.
What if Maria finds the bag? I stare at it. No, she won’t. There is no reason she’d be in my car.
As I drive to my friend’s house, my mind drifts to Hunter. I hope he isn’t there. I pull over and send Maria another text asking if her brother will be stopping by. While I know he’d offer to help me, I also know he’d prevent me from going back to that dumpster tomorrow morning.
She replies right away.
Maria:He’s on an assignment.
That should be good news, but for some reason, I’m disappointed. I don’t want to see him. Do I?
It doesn’t matter. I have enough to deal with right now, and I’m happy Hunter isn’t another item on that list.
CHAPTER 8
Axel
“Thanks for meeting me here,” Agent Steven says as we stand outside a public library on the Upper East Side.
“Why are we here?” I ask.
“The anonymous tip form was sent in from one of the computers here. We need to question the staff and find out if there is any video footage or photos that might show who submitted it.”
I frown and glance at Durango, who also doesn’t look happy.
“Why do we need to know who the tip came from?” I ask. “I thought you said it was related to an investigation you already had going on and you needed us to confront or infiltrate the gun smugglers.”
She glances around, but no one is paying any attention to us. “I need both. The person who reported this might be inside the organization. Which means he might give up more information in exchange for protection.”
I relax a little. “Yeah, that makes sense. Do you know anything about this person? Man, woman, young, old?”
“Nothing yet.” She opens the door.
We follow her to the main desk, where she flashes her FBI ID and requests to view the sign-in sheet for the public computers. The person behind the desk leads us to an office in the back.
“We keep everything electronically, so let me pull that up for you. It was last week?” the librarian asks.
“Yes, on Saturday at three in the afternoon,” Stevens says.
Saturday seems so long ago. It was the day Savvy and I were caught up in the explosion.
