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Gilmour and Patterson looked at him curiously.
“This one”—he jerked his thumb at Melanie—“I’d never want to get into a bar fight with her.”
Melanie laughed for the first time that day.
“Do you want to go to the hospital?” Patterson asked.
“I’d rather not.” The EMT handed her an icepack for her face. “Thanks.” She smiled at the technician, then turned back to Patterson. “Too much red tape, and I’m okay. Shaken, but okay.” She looked at Gilmour. “I might take you up on that Bulleit Bourbon offer.” Over the past few years, Gilmour and Drake had developed a work friendship. Camaraderie. Gilmour joked that to be a true agent, she had to drink bourbon. Never Scotch. It was in the rules. “As much as I try to follow them, I am skeptical about this one.”
They spent the next half hour giving Officer Kincaid all the necessary information for his report.
“Come on. Let’s get you home.” Patterson and Gilmour put an arm around the blanket-clad agent and walked her to the waiting helicopter.
“I retrieved your personal items from your car.”
“All of them?” She wondered about her gun, phone, and tote.
“Yes. They’re in a locker at the heliport,” Gilmour answered. “The ginger ale cans included.”
“That’s a bit anticlimactic, wouldn’t you say?” Melanie raised her bandaged hands and pointed at the locked box that contained the swabs from Howell’s injuries.
A sense of relief swept across their faces as they lifted off.
It took the chopper fifteen minutes to travel the fifty miles back to Anacostia. Patterson brought the evidence to a locked facility, got his receipt, and then they reclaimed Melanie’s things. Gilmour offered to drive her home. “Your car is impounded.”
“Of course it is.” Melanie shook her head.
“You did great work today,” Patterson said.
Gilmour glanced in her direction. “Seriously. Both in the cafeteria and during your joyride.”
“Actually, I did a crummy job in the cafeteria. He spotted me. Us, actually. We both did a crummy job. By the way, he said you need to take acting lessons.”
Gilmour snorted.
Melanie continued. “Apparently, he has a nose for women. Whenever one enters the room, he notices. He’s like a bloodhound, but that’s an insult to bloodhounds.”
Gilmour chuckled. “And you still have your sense of humor.”
“Sense of humor? Me?” Melanie looked at him with a blank expression on her face.
He wasn’t sure she was serious. “Yes. Droll, but you have one.” They walked to where Gilmour’s and Patterson’s cars were parked. Gilmour helped her into the passenger seat. “This should be a little more comfortable than your last ride.” He smiled.
Patterson leaned in. “You’re grounded for tomorrow, Drake.”
“What about filing my report?”
“Are you sure you can write or type with those wads?” He nodded toward her hands.
“Good point. I’ll record it and then transcribe it.”
“Excellent idea.” He tapped the roof of the car. “Take it easy.”
Gilmour left the heliport and began to drive to Melanie’s place. He pulled into the parking lot of a liquor store. “Be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
Within minutes, he was in and out of the store.
“And what is in the brown bag?” She tried to get a peek.
