Page 22 of Flash Freeze

“FBI.” Travis brushed his coat aside, displaying the badge clipped to his belt. “Hernandez, see you at the fire escape,” he called.

The shaken-up suspect fell in beside Travis as they trekked across the roof. “What’s the FBI want with me?”

“Why’d you run?”

With a shrug, Nasif said, “I thought you were someone else. I might have missed a few check-ins. My parole officer hates me, just lookin’ for an excuse, you know?”

Travis spared him a speculative look. “You must have done something if you ran.”

“Like I said,” he explained with animated emotion. “I got a job I can’t miss, and he insists on schedulin’ check-ins when I’m supposed to be at work.”

“And?”

“And …” Nasif fudged. “I might have left the county and been seen in Austin, but I had to go visit my Jaddah in the hospital. Look, Agent?”

“Ice. My partner is Special Agent Hernandez.” They stopped at the top of the metal ladder to the fire escape.

“Special Agent Ice, I’m not a terrorist. I was born in Texas, a natural U.S. citizen, and my parents have legal visas.”

“But you know how to make bombs and like setting fires.”

“Not anymore.” He raised his chin in a futile attempt to look Travis in the eyes. “I made the right kind of friends in prison and I ain’t never goin’ back. Turned over a new leaf, connected with God. I’m only thirty-three years old, plenty of time to turn my life around. But I’m so afraid that Officer Gallagher will write a negative report, and I’ll be right back inside.”

“And running was your first choice of smart ideas?” Travis propped a hand on his hip and stared at the guy.

Nasif forced a nervous smile. “Not such a smart idea, huh?” His shoulders slumped.

Travis shook his head. “After you, Mr. Nasif. You’ve just won a free trip to FBI headquarters.”

Chapter 11

Flash started her day by taking Snuffles for a run. The tiny dog with little legs kept up for the first mile; Flash carried her the rest of the way. After breakfast and a shower, she relaxed to nature music while reading a print copy of Firehouse Magazine’s latest issue. Despite being born into the digital era, and perhaps influenced by her teacher parents, Flash always preferred the sleek feel of a physical magazine to the bright light of a tablet or computer screen. She liked paper books and real newspapers, even if a tree had to die. Didn’t the environment suffer from all those humongous supercomputers that ran the internet? She’d read somewhere about the millions of gallons of water it took to cool them. And the power plants; many still ran on oil. She figured it was like the ridiculous air dryers in restrooms instead of paper towels, most of which were now made from recycled paper anyway. Flash loved nature without a doubt, but paper books went back over a millennium, so how bad could they be?

After lunch, she secured Snuffles in her backpack dog carrier, which she wore with the dog on her chest rather than her back, and headed out. First stop: the groomer for Snuffles’ appointment. She was so overdue.

“You be a good girl for Mommy,” she instructed before leaving her with the groomer. “Maybe Louise will give you a treat.” She kissed Snuffles’ head, and the dog responded by licking her nose.

“We’ll be just fine,” the middle-aged Louise, dressed in a doggy-themed smock, assured her with a smile. “Same bath and cut as last time?”

“Yes, please.”

“Should be done in three hours.” Louise picked up Snuffles and carried her to the back. Flash took the opportunity to slip away.

She had errands to run, and the traffic was awful. She filled her motorcycle tank with gas in no time, but the wait at the pump seemed interminable. Add in quick stops at the bank ATM and to drop a card to Mom in the post office slot, and an hour was lost. Next was the all-important grocery store stop. Flash was planning to cook one of her mother’s recipes for Athena’s dinner tonight, and everything had to be fresh. She figured the ingredients, plus a few beverages, would fill both her saddlebags and Snuffles’ carrier, so she’d need to drop them off at her loft before picking up the pup from the groomer.

The place was a madhouse. Flash sensed the frantic energy rippling through the supermarket, a palpable buzz of people rushing around. Toilet paper rolls and bottled water had flown off the shelves. Carts loaded with canned goods, baby food, diapers, and batteries, along with the typical milk and bread, clogged the aisles. Worried shoppers conversed in tight tones, two arguing over the last jar of peanut butter.

Upon assessing the chaos, Flash opted for a hand-held basket she could easily maneuver around the bulky carts to get the items on her list. She headed to the meat department first, hoping it hadn’t been picked clean. Shimmying between a brawny bald man and a hunched granny, claiming one of the few remaining hams, Flash pressed up to the meat case. The only ground beef packages left were the ones wrapped in meat-colored plastic tubes, the kind where you couldn’t actually see what you were buying.

Flash frowned because she never bought those. But a few feet away, she spied two packs of Italian sausage. That’s better anyway. Reaching around the retreating, ham-hording granny, she snatched one of the Italian sausages and wiggled out of the meat section. The pasta aisle wasn’t much better, but the mac and cheese boxes had been hit hardest, leaving plenty of ziti for her recipe. Finding cans of crushed tomatoes and tomato paste, and having the necessary spices at home, she worked her way to the refrigerated cheese display.

Sandwich slices had been hit hardest, leaving a few bags of mozzarella and Italian blends. Flash snagged one of each. Then she and another woman simultaneously reached for a container of ricotta, their hands bumping.

“Excuse me,” the woman said, lifting the plastic tub. Good for her, it wasn’t the last one.

Flash glanced to her side and blinked. Recognition brightened her expression as she straightened. Nikki Alvarez, an old girlfriend. Sort of. They’d hooked up about five years ago after a few weeks of clubbing together. It had been fun for a couple of months, and then … she didn’t remember why they stopped going out, but neither of them was looking for a serious relationship, so it wasn’t a problem.

“Lisa Cash? Well, damn. You got even hotter.” The twenty-eight-year-old brunette brushed back a strand of hair, her face lighting up like a Christmas tree. She was shorter than Flash, wearing a boob-hugging sweater and some kind of tight yoga pants. Her cheeks flushed.