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George’s laugh was more of a hoot. “Me phone him? That’d be the day.”
“But how did Kennedy get stuck with bailing me out?”
“Uh, you’re kidding about being out on bail, right? You weren’t formally charged?”
“Yes. I’m kidding.”
George was abruptly serious. “It was Kennedy’s choice, believe me. He phoned me not long after you did. Said he was already on his way to New York. That since you were following up several lines of inquiry at his request, he felt it was his responsibility to see you didn’t take the heat for a job that rightly should have fallen to his team.”
“That was…”
A load of bullshit, frankly.
“Not what I’d have expected,” George agreed. “I told you he likes you. Plus, there must be some reason agents fight tooth and nail to get into his unit.”
“Do they?”
“Yeah. According to Jonnie, they do. Did you get your interview with Durrand?”
“Yep.”
“Good. I look forward to reading your report.”
“No, you don’t.”
George laughed. “You’re flying back when?”
“Tomorrow morning. My plane leaves at seven.”
“Travel safe. No more falling afoul of local law enforcement, okay?”
“I’ll try. No promises.”
George chuckled again and hung up.
Jason stared at his phone in disbelief.
What the hell had Kennedy told George? Because, far from getting ready to fire him, George had sounded almost jovial. Like Jason had done something particularly amusing by getting dragged in for questioning.
Had he taken this whole thing way too seriously?
No. Kennedy wouldn’t have dropped his own investigation to fly to Jason’s rescue if it hadn’t been pretty damned serious. It seemed to Jason the most likely reason his running afoul of the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Department was being treated like a boyish escapade and not an interagency FUBAR was whatever spin Kennedy had managed to put on the situation for Jason’s superiors.
Kennedy might be a lousy boyfriend, but he sure as hell was a loyal friend.
When the alarm on his phone went off, Jason blinked up at the shadowy ceiling for a second or two, trying to figure out where he was.
Oh, right. The Buccaneer’s Cove hotel in Cape Vincent. He was supposed to meet Sam—Kennedy—for dinner in…Jason peered at his phone screen…half an hour. He settled his head on the pillow, closed his eyes, and considered blowing off dinner. Every time he saw Kennedy, it just stirred up a lot of feelings he didn’t want and didn’t need.
But no. He couldn’t do that. He owed Kennedy, so if Kennedy wanted to have dinner, the least Jason could do was make the same effort he would for any other colleague.
He sat up and reached for the lamp switch.
On the bright side, he had clean underwear, his own razor, and his job did not appear to be in imminent danger. A hot shower, a good meal, and he’d be his old self again.
The hot shower did work a minor miracle. Jason dressed in the jeans, white shirt, and navy blazer he’d originally planned on wearing for his interview with Barnaby.
He went next door and knocked. When nothing happened, he knocked again.
