Joe had no doubt of that.
Kinnard didn’t say good-bye to Jordie but paused at the door of the suite and shot her a telling look before going out. Joe pretended not to notice and walked over to her. “All set, Ms. Bennett?”
“Did you tell him about Costa Rica?”
“Who, Kinnard?”
“Did you?”
“He needed to know, especially now that it appears Panella isn’t in a distant land after all.” He paused, then asked, “Are you afraid he’ll retaliate?”
“He can’t. He’s a federal agent.”
Joe waited a second then said drily, “I was referring to Panella.”
“Oh.”
While the egg was still congealing on Jordie’s face, Gwen, who’d been on her cell phone, quickly clicked off. “They’re ready downstairs.”
The three of them left the suite and walked along the corridor to the elevator that provided hotel guests direct access to the parking garage. Joe, speaking into the mike on his lapel, communicated to all officers involved that they were on their way.
No one said anything as they rode the elevator down, but Joe covertly studied Jordie’s reflection in the brass door. Her expression was thoughtful, her brow slightly furrowed. He wondered what, exactly, had made her so contemplative.
Maybe it was concern over Kinnard knowing about her romantic getaway with Panella, whom he had sworn to either put away or blow away. Meanwhile, she and Kinnard were steaming up bedrooms. Strange dynamics for a budding romance.
He’d called Marsha earlier to tell her that he would be late—again. He recapped everything that had happened in Tobias and shocked her with their discovery about Shaw Kinnard.
“He’s good. Fool
ed Jordie Bennett. The rest of us, too. Hick almost shot him.”
“What’s he like?”
“Like?”
“As a person.”
Joe hem-hawed a description, circled the wagons, backtracked, tried again. Marsha interrupted and asked, “Is he Maverick, Iceman, or Goose?”
“Is this a trick question?”
“Which is he?”
“I don’t know, Marsha. He’s—”
“Of the three.”
“Then Iceman.”
“Okay.”
Before hanging up, he’d asked, “Which am I?”
“Goose. Definitely.”
A slightly disappointing answer.
When the elevator stopped and the doors slid open, the two young marshals were there to greet them. One held up a hand. “Hold tight. SUVs are rolling.”