“I apologize for the hour, but we had to be in this neck of the woods, and I thought we’d take the opportunity to drop by.”
“Can we offer you coffee?”
“Love a cup. It’s bitter cold out there. This is Special Agent Matthews.”
Matthews walked up to Matt, offered his hand, and said, “Jack Matthews. I’ve wanted to meet you.”
“How are you?” Matt said. “The large one is Officer Charley McFadden. The other’s Officer Hartzog.”
They shook hands. Hartzog put the shotgun back and sat down where he had been sitting watching television.
“Charley, will you get the FBI some coffee?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“You’ve wanted to meet him, too, Jack,” Young said. “Officer McFadden is the man who located, and ran to earth, the individual who shot Captain Moffitt.”
“Yes, I have,” Matthews said. “I’m one of your fans, McFadden. That was good work.”
Charley looked uncomfortable.
“You want something in your coffee, or black?” he responded.
“Black for me, please.”
“A little sugar for me, if you have it, please,” Young said.
“You want some more, Matt? Hartzog?”
“Please,” Matt said.
“Not now, thanks,” Hartzog said.
“How do you feel, Matt?” Young asked.
“I feel all right.”
“No pain in the leg?”
“Only when I forget and step on it.”
“It’ll take a while,” Young said. “It could have been a lot worse. .45, wasn’t it?”
“Apparently a ricochet,” Matt said.
Charley passed out the coffee.
“They must be taking this ILA threat pretty seriously,” Young said. “Judging by the fact that you have two men on you.”
“I’m off duty,” McFadden said. “Hartzog came on at eight. Just one.”
“Matt, is there somewhere we could have a word?” Young asked.
What the hell is this all about?
“We can go in my bedroom.”
“Please,” Young said, smiling. “You need any help?”