The man in the drawing wore a hoodie with the hood up and a baseball cap underneath it, brim low enough to cut the eyes half into shadow. He had more than a five o'clock shadow, but not a full-grown beard.
Sterling picked up the phone to let Juniper get a better look.
He'd processed hundreds of sketches over the years. Witness, criminals, random people crossing the street that might be someone of importance or might be no one at all. His mind was full of images of people he might never be able to get rid of.
Each one he’d filed away in his brain, that hadn't been cataloged to a live person, made him an itch. They reminded him of a mission. Or a place.
This one gave him a feeling. A sense that he knew the man behind the drawing.
He set the phone on the island, and Juniper picked it up without a word.
"That's a pretty defined jaw," she said. "Wouldn't you say?"
"People say that about me." Buddy rubbed his chin. "Then I go and shave, and everyone says it changes everything about my face."
She slid the phone across the counter. "Too bad the artist didn't draw the man's eyes."
"Because they might say Doyle Malone?" Sterling asked.
"They might." She nodded.
"Dawson gave me the broad strokes regarding that guy." Buddy swiped his phone. "This is the only image I found on him." He turned the screen around.
Sterling looked at the Meridian company photo. Flat grey backdrop, fluorescent light that wasn't doing anyone any favors. "That barely looks like him."
"It's all that's out there."
"But even with a better picture, there's another issue with Doyle and his appearance." Sterling polished off his coffee.
"What's that?" Buddy asked.
"Doyle's code name on missions was Chameleon. He knows how to read a situation better than most. Depending on what the situation calls for, he can walk into a bar full of operators andlook like he's the most decorated man there or the bottom of the barrel. He could even stroll into a boardroom, and everyone would think he's the boss. Or maybe the janitor. He's so good, it's scary." Sterling crossed his arms. "Has Dawson had a chance to look into where Doyle was when Anthony was approached by this man and asked to rob the Crab Shack?"
"It was the day before he checked into Harvey's Cabins," Buddy said. "But like you said, it doesn't really look like him. Dawson's just going on a hunch, and he wanted to get your take on it."
"Why would Doyle spend ten thousand dollars to stage a robbery?"
"I don't know." Buddy waved a finger. "But I think your boyfriend has a thought."
Sterling had a million ideas floating around in his brain and none of them were good. "Have you read any notes regarding new clients or any Aegis Network business since you got back last night?"
Buddy laughed. "Are you kidding me? I was on my honeymoon."
"That doesn't answer the question," Sterling said.
"Of course I read them." Buddy leaned forward. "I looked at the updates every morning with Fallon's blessing, so I'm well aware that this guy Doyle and his company Meridian Tactical wants to hire us—you—for a job. One that has to do with Ashbourne Holdings." Buddy cocked his head. "So, tell me what's going on in that insanely complicated brain of yours."
"It's pretty simple. But it doesn't make a whole lot of sense, yet," Sterling said. "But what if Doyle staged the robbery so that I'd get the rush of working with him again."
"That's about the dumbest thing I've ever heard," Juniper said.
"I'm with her." Buddy pointed a finger. "Except maybe that might have to do with the fact that her ring camera was forced into a loop and doesn't even show the two of you standing on that railing while an alligator was chomping at your feet." Buddy ran a hand over his face. "I kind of would have loved to see that especially because I heard Sterling here had no shirt on."
"Let's stick with the important parts of the story." Sterling let out a long breath. "And that's the idea that both events don't feel connected. Yet, in a weird way, I think they are." He glanced at Juniper. The first event was to get him to want to work with Doyle.
The second event had nothing to do with him and everything to do with you, which meant her cover wasn't as secure as they thought.
"You're the expert." She raised her mug, practically sticking her entire face in it, and took a long sip. "I'm just a pub owner."
