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Grant knew it was time to call in for reinforcements. “You need to come up with some names of people who can help us. People who aren’t in bed or beholden in some way to the Shepherds.”
She nodded as she stared out the window. “Alpha Morales.”
That was quick.
“Alpha?” Grant asked, his eyes darting between the windshield and Tati. “That’s a real name?”
“He’s an idiot. Thinks he’s some super spy mastermind. The dude’s a lowly intern but believes he’s one case away from being the next Johnny Utah. Literally.”
Grant was having a hard time connecting the dots and then it hit him. “Point Break. Keanu Reeves and Patrick Swayze. Federal agents infiltrate a group of bank robbers that also happen to be surfers. Great movie.”
Tati grumbled, “He’s an idiot who can’t find his ass with both hands. The department keeps him around as a gofer because his dad’s wealthy as fuck, all from questionable transactions, has a huge mansion on the water, and throws some kick-ass parties for the department.”
“So, he’s an incompetent FBI agent wannabe?”
Her head turned toward him. “His real name was Angelo. He changed it to Alpha when he was at the bottom of his class in college. Said Angelo made him sound like a pussy.”
“And he’s the best you can come up with?”
She stared ahead, twisting her lips to the side. “I burned a lot of bridges. People were such…fucking rule followers. Morales was good at one thing. Getting info out of people and coming up with last minute resources outside of the Bureau. Avoiding a shit ton of red-tape.”
Great. Grant was a rule follower.
“You do realize you’re speaking to a chief of police?” Of a small town, but still.
“Yeah, but you’re willing to break the rules.”
“In my world calling me a rulebreaker is a slur, not a compliment.”
“Life’s not always black and white, Chief. Everything doesn’t have clear delineations of good and bad, right and wrong.”
“Let me be clear. There are people who have no problem defining right from wrong. I would be one of those people. Then, there are people who swim in the gray. That’s not me. I stay within healthy guardrails of the gray.”
She stared at him, expressionless. “I don’t just swim in the gray, I do the backstroke in it.”
“Well, then,” he exhaled. “This trip should bode well for my career.”
Tati pulled out her phone and made a call, clearly agitated. Whoever she called must’ve answered on the first ring.
“Morales?”
She was quiet, and then looked perturbed. “No, that’s not why I’m calling.”
“No, I have not come to the realization that we would make beautiful babies. No, I don’t want to meet your abuela. If you would shut up a minute, I’ll tell you what I called for.”
She stared at Grant, with a look that promised bodily harm and spit out the words, “I need your help.”
Grant could almost hear her teeth grate as she stared out the window with the phone to her ear.
“No, I’m not ovulating and looking for a sperm donor, you self-absorbed moron. For crying out loud, shut up and listen. I need you to meet me at The Hallowed Corral in Springfield… That’s right… Well, I happen to like their food. Maybe I’m looking for quantity and not quality.”
“We’ll be there in…” She turned to Grant.
“Eleven and a half hours, if we don’t make any more stops.”
“Twelve and a half hours,” she said into the phone.
Then her fingers were rubbing her eyes and then pinching the bridge of her nose.
