Jon's Boom Shaka Laka Problem (Jon's Mysteries Case Book 4) by AJ Sherwood

Author:AJ Sherwood [Sherwood, AJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-02-07T05:00:00+00:00

The hotel beds were still harder than rocks, but I felt better this morning. It was nice to have a game plan for the Humvees, and talking it out with family, hearing their support, had been heartwarming. I might have been tired, and my back ached from the bed, but I had more of a spring in my step as I went into the FBI office.

We’d barely reached the reception desk—the nice lady on the other side knew us well at this point and had our badges ready—when I heard yelling coming from the conference room.

“YOU CAN’T HOLD ME ON ANYTHING!”

I turned sharply. What was this?

“Oooh, someone’s not happy.” Donovan sounded intrigued. “Has he been yelling like this for long?”

The receptionist made a face. “Rather, he’s rarely quiet. He was yelling even as he was brought in. Trying to explain that he’s only a person of interest has fallen on deaf ears.”

“Normally” —Donovan caught my eye, his own glimmering with interest—“when a person yells like that, they’ve got something to hide. Innocent people will be more patient while trying to prove their lack of involvement. Or so’s my experience.”

“There’s the exceptions, those who are just hot tempered.” I rubbed my hands together, already heading that way. “But let’s see which is the case here.”

The door was closed, and an agent I didn’t know stood in front of it. She gave us a nod in greeting then opened it for us. I took one step inside, my eyes falling on the yelling, belligerent man.

Mid-forties, short-tempered by nature, married but not happily, with a stack of vices as long as my arm, gambling being one of them. Not a man who should be living in Vegas, that was for sure. So much grey wrapped around his lines I could barely see the rest of his aura. This was not a nice person.

Freeman looked torn between popping two aspirin and shooting the guy. I waved him over with my fingers. “Freeman, a word.”

He popped up gratefully and headed straight out of the room.

“You can’t leave me in here. I want out!” the suspect demanded again, red in the face from his temper rising.

Freeman took great satisfaction in closing the door sharply. “Ever since I read him his Miranda rights, he’s been yelling like that. I was just going to ask him questions and let him go, but now he’s in a temporary detention. Reaction like that, he’s got to be up to something. I’ve been dying for you to get here and tell me what.” In a low tone, he asked eagerly, “What did you see?”

“That man wears guilt like a neon sign above his head,” I answered then shrugged. “I don’t think he’s our bomber—he doesn’t have that building experience in his lines—but he’s guilty of a lot of things. What all does your warrant cover?”

“Not much. I had to be pretty specific with it. We can search his home, car, and person for anything that might relate to our bombing. His phone has been opened, and Sarah’s going through it right now.

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