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More than he’d enjoyed any aspect of the civilian world, according to his ex-wife.
He looked at the notebook pages more closely. He and Tim had shared that common denominator. They’d both served in the Army with pride and honor and on some level they both missed it.
“Come on, man. What were you watching?”
The produce entry caught his attention. He’d just reconciled the account for last week. The delivery dates were right, but he knew the numbers were off.
Tim only brought in extra tomatoes on the weeks when he planned lasagna baking days. Suddenly the code clicked and Bart nearly leaped from the bed with a triumphant shout.
Somehow he didn’t think anyone would buy that as legitimate new husband behavior at this hour. Now he could see it: Tim’s menus referred to regular trucks passing through and the deliveries marked anomalies in behavior. Working backward, Bart found a three day pattern on the tomatoes. There damn sure hadn’t been that much lasagna or sauce stored in the freezer.
Dread hit him like a fist in his gut. No way Suter and Kellerman had been looking in the walk-in for pans of lasagna or buckets of red sauce.
Bart’s alarm sounded and he shut it off as Hannah rolled away from him and curled into the pillow. The bruise on her face from yesterday’s fight had him grinding his teeth. She’d only iced it a couple of times and it had obviously needed more. He felt terrible for shoving her to the ground, even if she blamed the tree.
Leaning down, he brushed a light kiss to her hair before he eased out of the bed and turned off the reading light.
Grabbing clean clothes, he headed for the bathroom. Starting the water for a shower, he buttoned the notebook into the side pocket of his pants. He didn’t trust it anywhere but on his person until he broke the rest of Tim’s code.
He couldn’t be sure which truck each code referred to, but if he compared it to the fleet accounts, he could probably get it figured out. His biggest concern was the three day pattern on tomatoes. If whoever Tim was watching stayed on schedule, they would be back this afternoon.
Chapter 10
Patriot Plaza Truck Stop
Hannah rolled out of bed in a hurry as her stomach clenched. She sent up a prayer of gratitude Bart wasn’t nearby and she hoped he wasn’t even in the apartment.
When the first wave of nausea subsided, she leaned against the bathroom counter and brushed her teeth, careful not to do anything that would kick off an encore performance.
She decided she liked Bart’s bathroom, with only the mirrored medicine cabinet. It made avoiding her reflection that much easier. She didn’t need to look to know the dark circles and sickly pallor were her best features at the moment. Well, maybe everyone would blame it on yesterday’s excitement. She took a peek then, and startled herself when she saw the color blooming from her cheekbone and curling up and around her eyebrow.
“Lovely.” Bart would be more than a little irritated with her for refusing to apply the ice packs more frequently. From the look of it, she deserved his inevitable ‘I told you so’.
She returned to the bedroom and flopped back on the bed for a brief pity party. Beneath her, she could feel the hum of business carrying on downstairs. She should find a way to pitch in with the day to day, find something to keep her mind off the looming worry about the cartel’s next move.
Maybe she should just go back to Baltimore and let DeVries send her wherever he deemed safe. She’d warned Bart about the wiretap and he and his old Army connections were smart enough to take it from here. Staying here only put his livelihood in jeopardy. Not to mention his lifestyle if he learned about the baby.
She sighed as the debate chased itself in circles through her mind once more. How strange and unfair that one night resulted in lifelong consequences for two people who’d simply indulged in an alcohol-induced experiment.
And good grief, last night had been dumb. Satisfying, but dumb.
She blinked away tears. It felt ridiculous in the context of the moment, but she longed for her mother. For the soft touch and gentle comfort that had always been offered when Hannah was ill or upset.
She could almost hear her mom’s voice now, telling her this would pass soon enough.
“Not nearly soon enough,” Hannah muttered, imagining her mother’s smile as she rushed back to the bathroom for round two.
Starting the shower, she elected to skip her normal morning exercise. No way was her stomach steady enough to workout. Gently, she lathered shampoo through her hair and rinsed her face, carefully avoiding her bruised eye.
Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, her damp hair woven into a braid, she saw stars flickering at the edge of her vision when she bent over to tie her tennis shoes. She remembered the bugand the eavesdroppers on the other end just before she said something aloud to the baby.
She locked the front door behind her and paused to enjoy the morning. The sun was climbing into a clear sky and the light breeze carried the stringent fuel and exhaust fumes away from her. She took her time descending the stairs, and then headed toward the diner to check on Bart and Maria. Surely there was something she could do to help them out, even sporting a black eye.
She started to rethink her plan when the spicy scent of sausage on the grill hit her at the diner door. Swallowing, she forced a smile onto her face, big enough to make her cheek ache.
“Good morning,” she called out, trying to stay away from the kitchen.
Maria answered in kind, but her bright smile faltered when her gaze landed on Hannah’s bruised face. “If you say so.”
