Page 9 of Armed ’N’ Ready

“This is a copy of the search warrant.” Cox handed her a document consisting of several pages stapled together. “Take a few minutes to look it over.”

She picked up the warrant and began reading. At the top of the first page in bold letters were the words U.S. District Court. She’d only dealt with the courts one other time in her life. A time I’d rather forget. The document was signed by a District Court judge and authorized federal agents to search Joe’s house and his office in Springfield.

“Flip to Attachment A, the second page.” Cox did the same with what looked like a duplicate of the warrant. “This is a list of the items we’re authorized to seize.”

She scanned the dozen or so numbered items on Attachment A. Articles of incorporation for Joe’s business, business licenses, emails, computers, laptops, various storage devices such as thumb drives and DVDs, and cash. But it was the last item that took her completely by surprise.

“Guns?” She snapped her gaze to Cox then twisted her neck to look behind her at Houston. Sgt. Houston watched her impassively, without a flicker of emotion, although she noted a hardening of that rock-solid jawline. She began shaking her head. “You can’t be serious. This has to be a mistake.”

“Again, there’s no mistake.” Houston repositioned himself at the edge of the table. “You and your boyfriend are up to your eyeballs in money laundering for a gunrunner.”

“Whoa. Wait a minute. Me?” She stared at Houston, her eyes as wide as they could possibly go. “You must have me confused with someone else. I don’t have anything to do with money laundering or a gunrunner. And what do you mean, my boyfriend?” For a second, she didn’t know what shocked her more, that she and Joe were being investigated by the FBI and the state police for money laundering and gunrunning, or that they all assumed she was his girlfriend. Then again, she’d been in his bathroom at six in the morning, so it shouldn’t come as a shock that they’d jumped to that conclusion. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she insisted.

Houston’s tone hardened. “Then why are you here?”

“My place has plumbing problems, and since Joe was going to be out of town for a while, he offered me his place to crash for a couple nights.”

“Where is he now?” Cox asked.

“I already told Sgt. Houston I don’t know, and Joe didn’t say. Did you ask his parents, or his brother or sisters?”

“We did,” Houston confirmed. “They have no idea where he is. When was the last time you talked to him?”

He looked at her so intently that she felt his gaze boring into her like twin lasers, and she had the distinct impression he was angry. Well, I didn’t do anything.

“Yesterday,” she answered. “Right before he left. He gave me keys to the house.”

Cox jotted something on a pad. “Did he say when he’d be back?”

“No.” She twisted the edges of the warrant in her hands. Again, it hit her that he’d always let her know when he’d be returning. This time he hadn’t.

Cox tapped his pen on the pad. “You used to be a financial planner in New York City. You and Myer both went to Columbia for your business degrees. Did you ever work together?”

“No. After graduation, Joe moved to Massachusetts. I stayed in New York.”

“Are you working together now?” Cox asked.

“No.” The warrant audibly crinkled as she all but gouged her nails clean through the papers.

“There’s a photo of you and Myer upstairs in his bedroom,” Houston interjected. “The two of you look pretty cozy. If you’re not his girlfriend, and you’re not his accomplice, what’s your connection to the guy?”

“We’re friends.” When Houston arched an eyebrow, it was obvious he wasn’t buying her story, but it was true. Now, anyway. “Okay, we dated and lived together while we were at Columbia, then after we graduated, we decided our romance had died a quiet death and we were just good friends, so we broke it off.” And in all the years since, she hadn’t had a meaningful relationship with anyone. Except for Steve, and that had been a disaster that still haunted her.

Maybe it’s my fault for being so gullible.

She swallowed the shame inside her. Given the dire predicament Joe was in at the moment, there were more important things at hand than whining about her personal crisis. And as for her gullibility, she lived with Joe for two years and knew every aspect of his personality. There was no way she could have missed such a huge part of who he was. It wasn’t possible. There has to be an explanation.

“After we broke up,” she continued, “Joe moved here to Springfield and opened his own company, but we remained friends and spoke regularly on the phone.”

“About what?” Sgt. Houston asked.

“About everything. Business, his new clients, his new house, restaurants he’d been to lately.” That was something they’d shared—a love of good food, wine, and beer. While they’d been together, they frequented so many restaurants and wine tastings she’d lost count.

Cox looked up from his notes. “What did you discuss about his business?”

“That it was going well, but not quite as well as he’d expected.” She bit her lower lip. The first time she’d seen Joe’s three-story McMansion and pricy new silver Mercedes, she had thought they were a bit extravagant considering the income he said he was pulling in. “But recently, he told me he got a new client and business was picking up.”

Cox’s brows drew together sharply. “What new client?”