Mean Streak

“Fuck you.”

“And back at you.”

Grudgingly, they grinned at each other.

* * *

During their bantering exchange, Emory had vacillated between disbelief and fury. Now she confronted them. “You’re friends?”

Hayes said, “Not even close.”

Jack’s reply was, “Quasi friends.”

“How long have you known each other?”

Jack said, “I recruited him straight out of the army.”

“For?”

“My SWAT team.”

She looked at Hayes with wonderment. “You’re with the FBI?”

“Was.”

“You’re the unnamed SWAT officer who made the impossible shot and killed the Westboro gunman? You’re the legend?”

Hayes didn’t respond.

“Answer me!”

He shouted back, “I will when you ask a question that I feel is worthy of an answer.”

The sound that broke the resultant silence was Connell slapping his naked knees. “We’ve got a lot to talk about. Hand me my pants.”

Hayes looked behind him where Connell’s clothes were piled in a chair, along with his pistol and shoulder holster. “You should keep your weapon within reach, Agent Connell.”

“Lesson learned. God knows who’s likely to show up and assault me.”

Hayes tossed the trousers toward the bed. Connell caught them and shook them out. “Excuse me, Dr. Charbonneau.” He stood up and stepped into his pants. As he did them up, he said, “Oh, before I forget.”

He took a cell phone from one of the trouser pockets and handed it to her. “Yours. We found it in the bedroom last night after you ran off. I asked if I could keep it, monitor calls you received. Guess there’s no need to now.”

“Thank you.”

“FYI, the battery has run completely out. It needs charging.” He finished dressing, including his shoulder holster, and worked his feet into a pair of loafers. “Emory, what Bannock said about your husband, is it valid?”

“Why don’t you ask me?” Hayes said.

“Because I’m asking her.”

“I believe it’s true,” she said.

“Based on a hunch or evidence?”

“In all the confusion…” She bent down and retrieved the brown paper sack containing the rock, which she’d dropped on the floor during the tussle. She handed the sack to Connell. After opening it and looking inside, he turned to Hayes. “Her hair and blood?”

He nodded. “Found at the scene, along with a designer logo off Jeff’s ski jacket.” Jack mulled over that information for several seconds, then said, “Before we get down to business, I could use some strong, black coffee and hot food, and, since I’m the only one here not currently being sought by local law enforcement, I volunteer to go for them.”