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5
Unsure whether to pack a duffel or an arsenal of weapons, Lucas decided on the former and rely on his instincts and above average intelligence to compel Birdie to come home.
He didn’t discount that she was a married woman and her husband might have something to say about that. But he had to try. For Mia. If only to get those questions answered that had been buried so deep for so long, it would take an oil-rig-sized drill to unearth it all.
His pants vibrated, and he pulled his phone out of his front pocket.
Grant.
According to his call log, he’d tried calling five times and finally sent a text.
Grant:Why don’t you answer your phone? You answer when it’s one of your geriatric constituents, but not the Chief of Police? I’m two seconds from having you hauled in.
Lucas:On my way to Boston. What did you find out?
Grant:Drive to Atlanta. There are things you need to know.
Curiosity and good sense won over the throat-strangling anticipation of seeing Birdie again.
Barely.
He pulled up Grant’s number.
Grant answered after one ring.
“Thanks for calling, jackass.”
“What do you know?”
“There’s not a lot I can say over the phone. We’re working with insecure phone lines. Ms. Northrop’s not happy I’m making this call, as my phone isn’t encrypted.”
“You like her.”
Grant’s voice lowered as if he didn’t want her to hear this part of the conversation.
Busted.
“What the fuck did I say to make you think that?”
And overly defensive…
“The tone of your voice. Plus you’re career blue. You’re wildly attracted to women who can speak in police codes and are well-versed in the Automated Fingerprint Identification System.”
“It’s referred to as AFIS, no one in law enforcement has time to say all that shit.”
“What does she look like?”
“What the fuck does that matter?”
Interesting. He’d dodged the question. “Remember the assistant DA who came into town last fall? The one with all the curves and spoke in nothing but acronyms and police jargon.”
“She was an attorney. The men and women in blue have a well-documented lack of trust or attraction to lawyers.”
“That didn’t stop you from taking her to a hotel outside of town. Weren’t those your words when you were shitfaced at the Whiskey House?”
Grant was uncharacteristically quiet. “I’m not asking you to drive to Atlanta to help us pick out a china pattern. I’mtellingyou to drive to Atlanta to help us do some shit even I don’t feel entirely comfortable with, in terms of the law.” He paused, as if he had his hand over the phone as Lucas heard muffling in the background. He wasn’t sure, but it sounded like someone was ordering the French Toast Slam.
Grant came back on line. “Look, all I can say is that you’re going to want to hear this before hightailing it to Boston half-cocked and grossly unaware of pertinent details.”
