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When they were outside, they walked back to the SUV in silence.
Vernon held the door for them. “Where to?”
Freddie gave him the address of Gordon LeBlanc.
“I really feel for her,” Sam said when they were on the way to Penn Quarter.
“I know. It’s a brutal loss for her on top of losing her fiancé years ago.”
“Some people get more than their share of tragedy.”
“For sure.”
“I’ve felt that way lately,” Sam said.
“No one could blame you for that.”
“And yet, I live an absolutely gilded life in so many ways.”
“Everyone suffers loss, no matter how great the rest of their life is.”
“I guess. It’s funny, though. I really needed my dad to live forever.”
“So did I.”
Sam smiled at him, appreciative of his deep love for her father. “What’s our next move, hotshot?”
“We’ll talk to the guy who received the ten grand from the Blanchets, and then I want to keep going through the paper trail. I haven’t personally looked at the social media or the rest of the texts and emails yet.”
“Sounds like a plan. I have to say, I’m kind of enjoying riding shotgun on this one. I need to do that more often.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Children,” Vernon said. “No bickering.”
“But that’s what we do,” Sam said.
“It’s part of our charm,” Freddie added.
The agents laughed.
“Whatever you guys are doing, it’s working for you,” Vernon said. “You get a hideous job done and manage to have a little fun along the way.”
“I hope you know the irreverence is what keeps us sane,” Sam said.
“Of course we do,” Vernon said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Gordon LeBlanc ran a psychology practice from an office in his home. He answered the door with a sandwich in his hand and a surprised look on his face. He was heavyset, with thinning dark hair and brown eyes that were a little too close together.
Freddie introduced himself and Sam as they showed their badges.
