Chasing Lies (Special Agent Ricki James Book 12) by C. R. Chandler

Author:C. R. Chandler [Chandler, C. R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BackDoor Publishing
Published: 2024-05-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

The next morning, Ricki and Clay strolled into the lobby and nodded to the desk clerk before heading outside. Anchorman and Finn were already standing next to the rental sedan, sipping from cardboard cups of coffee. Anchorman greeted them by pointing at a takeout carrier perched on the roof of the car with two more steaming cups nestled in it.

“Brought yours along.” He stepped to the side so Clay could retrieve the coffee. “Finn here told me that Blake sent a CIA agent.”

“Apparently they’re case officers, not agents. I would have told you about him last night, but you disappeared early,” Ricki said.

“I ordered room service since the FBI is paying for this and spent the evening making calls back home.” He leaned against the car. “Marcie had a lot of questions about the reopening, which we can talk about if you want to, but only after you tell me what the spook had to say.”

Ricki lifted an eyebrow at Finn. “You didn’t tell him?”

Finn shrugged. “Didn’t have much of a chance, and I wanted to hear if you still believed Case Officer Reynolds now that you’ve had a night to sleep on it.”

Surprised by the question, Ricki shot Finn a curious look. “I’m still inclined to believe him. How about you? Have you changed your mind?”

“Nope. But not because I didn’t think I should. I just couldn’t come up with a good reason. I can’t see the CIA risk getting caught shooting someone on domestic soil. Even if he was a very bad guy. And not for a million dollars. That would be chump change to them.”

“The contracting company had to eat the other million,” Clay said in an aside to Anchorman before the Marine could ask about it.

“Which eliminates that theory. And since the FBI never caught up with Preston Malone, the only suspects we have left are his old partners. One, or both of them, probably shot Malone, and we don’t have a solid lead on either of them.” Ricki looked off into the distance, silently weighing the possibilities. “Somehow, at least one of those partners tracked him down in the Bay.”

Clay took a long sip of his coffee, then opened the passenger side door. “Well, we won’t figure it out by standing around here. I thought we should start where the Feds left off, and that would be with The Last Nail Handyman Services, according to Dan’s email. I have the address, so I’ll drive.” When Anchorman tossed him the key fob, Clay waited until Ricki took the shotgun seat before crossing to the opposite side of the car and slipping behind the wheel.

“How far away is this place?” Finn asked as he buckled his seatbelt.

“About five miles,” Clay said. “I’ve already called one Mr. Fred Brightwood, who owns the business. He said they’re in a residential neighborhood.”

“Sounds like a mom-and-pop shop.” Finn smiled. “Although from the name it could be just Pop who is running it.”

The GPS on Clay’s phone got them to the address listed in the FBI file without a hitch.

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