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Their relationship wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t common knowledge either, although maybe that had changed since breakfast. Part of the expectation, though, was that on the job they could restrain themselves to treating each other like coworkers and not romantic partners. No dramatic clinches or thank God you’re all right, darling.
Everything Sam was feeling had to be conveyed by a shoulder squeeze, and everything Jason felt had to be confined to even more briefly covering Sam’s hand with his own.
Phillips’s alert hazel gaze took note of the exchange. She said to Jason, “Then this is not related to your case?”
“This is nothing to do with our case. We just happened to be in the right place at the wrong time.”
“The right time,” de Haan objected. “These agents saved my life and the life of everyone on the ranch.”
“And you are?” Phillips asked.
As de Haan began to explain who he was, they were joined by two detectives with the Park County Sheriff’s Office. Sandford launched yet again into his complaints.
For Jason, time was of the essence, and it was painfully clear that his entire day was going to be lost to the fallout of this goddamned unfortuitous shooting. He did his best to control his frustration.
And the press hadn’t even got wind of the incident yet.
He and J.J. were questioned separately by the sheriff’s office detectives. It was pretty routine, and Jason could tell that the sheriffs—unlike Police Chief Sandford—were eager to hand this one off. Typically, law enforcement deferred agent-related shootings to the Bureau to investigate, but sometimes they chose to conduct their own investigation. Either way was fine by him. He was confident any shooting-incident inquiry was going to back up their decision to engage.
He just wanted the whole thing over so he could get on with his own investigation. The clock was ticking. Loudly. But he seemed to be the only person who could hear it.
SAC Phillips finally managed to appease Police Chief Sandford, who instructed Jason to inform him before he attempted to interview anyone in “his” town.
By that point Jason had had his fill of the overbearing asshole—which was saying something because he’d had a lot of experience with overbearing assholes.
“That is not going to happen,” Jason told him.
Which nearly resulted in setting Sandford off again.
“Just simmer down,” Sam told Sandford. He did not actually plant his hand in the center of Sandford’s uniformed chest, but it had the same effect. Sandford rocked back as though he had been yanked by an invisible chain.
Rock meet hard place.
Sandford began to splutter. “You put a goddamned hand on me—”
Sam grinned. It was not a nice, friendly grin.
Sandford turned several shades of rage.
“OH-kaaay,” Phillips interceded. She threw an exasperated look at Sam. “No one is putting a hand on anyone, boys. And Agent West will cooperate fully with the police department.” Phillips’s glance in Jason’s direction was one of dire warning.
Jason said nothing. He did not need—and was not about to—coordinate his efforts with the Bozwin Police Department. He had more pressing concerns than SAC Phillips’s public-relations efforts.
After Sandford left the scene, Jason and J.J. were directed back to Bozwin and the RA, while Phillips’s team and the sheriff’s department finished up at the crime scene.
J.J. was silent for most of the nearly hour-long drive through scenic green-gold Paradise Valley. Beneath dramatic blue skies, vast and breathtaking views of the Absaroka Beartooth Mountains stretched to the east and the jagged snowcapped Gallatin Range dominated the west.
“You okay?” Jason asked J.J., surfacin
g from his own grim preoccupation.
“Sure,” J.J. said tersely. “You?”
“Great.”
They exchanged bleak looks.
“You don’t have to worry,” Jason said. “There’s no way the SIRG won’t find in your favor.”
