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11
As soon as Grant drove into the sleepy town of Wayward, his defenses lowered, and a sense of calm returned. This was his home, his space, and his jurisdiction. An area of his life that he managed well because he knew every square inch.
He stopped at his apartment, which was conveniently above the Wayward Diner, to change before going into the station and checking in.
Despite taking the week off and his deputy chief temporarily assuming his responsibilities, he felt it necessary to show his face and let his department know who was in charge. More for himself than anyone else.
His uniform on and fully armed, he walked into the kitchen where Tati was now raiding his cabinets.
“If you’re hungry, go down to the diner and tell Sarah-Lynn I sent you. She and her husband Frank own the place.”
He filled his pockets with his billfold and phone and looked up at a blatantly hungry Tati, who was staring at him as opposed to the snack foods in his cabinets. Not the first time he had seen her like this, but never starved for anything other than fully loaded nachos or maybe a Coney dog with extra cheese.
“You okay there, Northrop?”
“What can I say?” she said blatantly eyeing him up and down. “I’m a sucker for a man in uniform.”
“I thought you FBI types looked down on the blue.”
“Only some of the less self-aware men in the Bureau, and I’m pretty sure that stemmed more from jealousy than any legitimate disdain.”
He walked up to her and placed his hand on the back of her warm neck, pulling her in, and kissing her on the mouth. “When I get back from the police station, how ’bout I put handcuffs on those pretty wrists of yours and show you how to properly frisk a hostile criminal?”
She made a noise somewhere in between a wounded animal and a squeaky toy. “You could try.” She stood in a power stance. “I was trained in hand-to-hand combat at the FBI academy in Quantico. Carry my own set of handcuffs.”
He gave her a wink. “Well, then, feel free to use them on me.”
He started to make his way to the door, when she must have had a moment of clarity and blurted, “Don’t you dare go to that gas station to look for the diary and thumb drive without me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” That was his first stop. “Only thing you need to decide is whether that’s before or after we handcuff one another.”
Tati moaned a little bit that time around, no longer in power stance and squeezing a bag of Fritos.
“I’ll be back in less than an hour. Be fueled up and ready to rumble.” He saluted her with a wry grin as he shut the door behind him.
Less than ten minutes later, Grant jimmied the door to Fulsom’s and was inside. There was no way he wasn’t going to be the first one to see the contents of that diary and thumb drive. The diary for very personal reasons and the thumb drive for professional ones.
He didn’t like lying to Tati, but this was his job, and the truth of the matter was that she was no longer in law enforcement.
A private investigator didn’t come close to having the proper jurisdiction required to oversee an investigation or to handle evidence, for that matter. There might be highly sensitive information in either or both mediums, and he wasn’t going to risk the privacy of others to pacify the woman.
Regardless of her penchant for handcuffs.
He quickly spied one of the steamer trunks sitting close to the cash register. He went through each of the drawers, searching for hidden pockets or places where a thumb drive might be wedged and hidden.
He had gotten to the bottom right-hand drawer and noticed a number of decorative nails lying on the floor and the crowbar used to open it.
He pulled on the handle and looked inside.
Nothing.
He looked through the second steamer trunk.
Again, nothing. No diary and no thumb drive.
Sitting on the padded seat beneath the window, considering next steps, he noticed a multi-colored woven bag that he had seen Mia carry a time or two.
He made a call to Bernadette, who confirmed Mia was in her bedroom reading. He told her he was on his way to see her.
