Page 67 of Flash Freeze

“I’ll send over a CSI team to swab and collect evidence,” Bach said, digging into his pocket for his phone.

“Good.” Athena shot out of her chair with less finesse than usual, leaving behind the last quarter of her thoroughly delicious burrito. She could always reheat it later. “I’m off to see Mr. Smith. You should have your warrants by the time you arrive.” Anticipation surged through her. This could be the big break they’d been chasing all week.

Chapter 31

“What do you think about Detective Bach moving in on Shoops?” Travis asked as he guided his Rubicon through the slush with the unhurried precision he’d once used on military roads. He had Isaac Mora’s address programmed into his dash GPS. It was over in the Second Ward and would take half an hour to get to.

Samuel shot him a sideways glance. “I don’t know. He seems like an OK guy, and Karen is a grown woman. They can do what they want.”

“I suppose.” Travis had spent little time with Bach since he had become Bouvier’s near-constant shadow, and he felt protective toward Karen, like a little sister. The shy, petite agent was young, naïve, and far from imposing. Easily taken advantage of. He didn’t like it.

“I thought you had a girlfriend,” Samuel said.

“I do,” Travis confirmed, “one my age. Don’t you think Bach is a little old for Karen?”

Samuel smirked, huffing out a laugh. “Do you think ASAC Bouvier is too old for Flash? Because I’m pretty sure there’s a bigger age gap there.”

“Hey, I’m not touching that,” Travis answered emphatically. He carefully drove around a stuck car and slowed as they passed children playing in a small park. “I’ll bet your kids are loving this.”

“Oh, yeah.” Samuel’s face lit up. “They’re as happy as pigs in a wallow. My wife’s been taking pictures practically nonstop.”

Travis hit the brakes. The pedal hammered beneath his boot as he swerved around a garbage truck barreling through the dead signal. The buzz of a chainsaw poured through the inch gap in his window. “Don’t people know you’re supposed to stop and look before proceeding at an intersection when the light is out?”

“How many more days do we have of this?” Samuel asked, his glare trailing the back of the waste management vehicle.

“They said it’s supposed to be sunny and get above freezing on Sunday. Then we have the joy of mud to look forward to.” Travis had to admit he’d adjusted to the ice and snow better than expected. Maybe because there weren’t mountains or crevices, and he didn’t have to camp out in a tent doing military exercises.

Samuel chuckled. “Probably back to school on Monday then. I wonder if the kids’ spring break will be canceled to make up the lost days?”

“Cancel spring break?” Travis gawked. “That’d sure infuriate parents and students alike. People make plans, you know.” His girlfriend’s second-grade daughter, Misty, was energetic, curious, and fascinated by his beard. A few years ago, dating a woman with a child would have been an immediate no. Now? He was older, more settled, and beginning to picture things he once hadn’t. Savannah was worth it, and so was Misty. He’d been thinking about inviting them camping over spring break—if work would let him.

“Yeah, people who aren’t us,” Samuel said in a disappointed tone.

And that’s why Travis hadn’t asked yet. What if Misty got her hopes up and then he was assigned to a big case and couldn’t take them? Better to wait until the last minute.

Travis pulled up in front of the address, a vintage wood-frame bungalow in a hundred-year-old neighborhood. They’d passed new townhomes and apartments rising where dilapidated properties had stood, while other old Craftsman and shotgun houses underwent renovations. A for-sale sign sprouted in front of the house across the street. Mora’s residence fell somewhere between fixer-upper and fully renovated and suited the modest income listed in his employment records.

“Well, if he’s our guy, he didn’t run out and buy a half-million-dollar house,” his partner said as he climbed out.

Travis slogged through the slushy snow at the curb around the front of his Jeep. “Let’s play it cool so we don’t spook him. Just knock on the front door and say we have some follow-up questions about the day of the fire. We won’t mention the warrant until we have him in custody.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Both agents took out their IDs, and Samuel knocked on the door. “Who’s there?” called a male voice from inside.

“FBI,” Travis answered. “We just have a few more questions about last Friday’s fire at Gulf Allied Chemicals.”

“Oh, yeah, just a minute,” came a bright reply. “Gotta put some pants on. Ya know, they haven’t let us back to work yet?”

They waited. “Do you think he’s sneaking out the back like the other fellow?” Samuel asked.

Around the side of the house, a small truck roared to life and sped out of the driveway, heading in the opposite direction from the one Travis’s Jeep faced. “Yep. Here we go again.”

They scrambled across the glazed yard. Samuel’s shoe slipped out from under him, but Travis caught his sleeve and hauled him upright without breaking stride. Once behind the wheel, he slapped the magnetic blue beacon onto the Jeep’s roof, pulled a U-turn in the sloppy street, and tried to catch up.

Samuel put his cell on speakerphone and called the office.

“Bouvier.”