King and Maxwell (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 6)
Page 23
“Why not?”
“That kid is holding something back, Sean. Something that is scaring him.”
“Soldiers die all the time, Michelle. And their next of kin get notified. It’s standard procedure.”
“Well, this might just prove to be the exception to the standard. But there’s something else,” she said.
“What?”
“You referred to his dad in the past tense. Tyler answered but he spoke about his dad in the present tense. As though he were still alive.”
“Wishful thinking maybe?”
“He didn’t strike me as the type.”
Sean sighed. “Okay. We’ll do what we can. But just remember our deal about New Zealand.”
“Don’t worry. I ordered your Speedo online this morning.”
CHAPTER
9
THE NEXT DAY SEAN PUT down the phone and stared at his desk. He was alone in the Spartan offices of King and Maxwell, Private Investigation. Michelle’s desk abutted his. His desktop was pristine. Everything in its place and items lined up precisely. He looked across at Michelle’s desk and frowned. It looked like someone had dumped a box of junk on it and
then rifled through, spreading the debris around even more.
“I really don’t know how she finds anything,” he muttered darkly.
“Having another OCD fantasy about my desk?”
He looked up at the doorway. Michelle stood there holding two coffees, a folded newspaper under her arm.
“I’m that easy to read?” he asked innocently.
“We’ll be finishing each other’s sentences before long,” she replied. “And we’re not even married.”
“In some ways we’re more married than married people,” he shot back.
She handed him one of the coffees, laid the newspaper on her desk, and sat down across from him. “So did you reach your contacts at the Pentagon?”
Sean nodded. “Just got off with one, in fact.”
“And?”
Sean leaned back in his chair and studied the computer screen in front of him.
“And what I thought was straightforward is turning out not to be.”
Michelle sipped her coffee and fought back a shiver. The forecast called for a chilly rain or even possibly snow. And the sky looked like it would deliver on that forecast any minute.
“Meaning what?”
“I emailed him the name Sam Wingo along with the particulars that Tyler gave us about his squad, rank, and so forth. I figured I’d give my contact some time to look into it and that when I called he’d have all the answers.”
“But he didn’t?”
“No. In fact, he had no answers.”