“You don’t think he already knows?”
Deck’s eyes met mine. “You mean via Burns?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck no,” he spat, shaking his head.
Burns was Doc’s father; was it really so hard to think he’d discuss Operation Argead with his son? Evidently so.
“As far as reading Doc in, would anyone object?” Cope asked.
“Anyone whose opinion I give two shits about? Nope,” answered Decker.
When he stood and walked over to the window, seemingly on another call, I wondered again about the brain-implant thing. How the hell had he done it otherwise?
“Doc, Decker here. How soon can you and your team get to Colorado?”
There were a few seconds of silence. “Yeah, I know you have a fleet of planes now, asshole. Just answer the question. How soon?”
The next thing I heard was him asking Rile the same thing. “Yes, this supersedes my directive to kill the little bastard.”
Decker returned to the table and sat down. “How’s Ali feeling?” he asked.
“Still pretty rough.”
“It’ll pass,” said Decker.
“Do you want to elaborate as to what you’re talking about?”
Decker ignored me, and Cope looked at me as if I were an idiot.
“What?”
“She’s pregnant, asshole,” Decker said before Cope could. “Now, can we get back to business?” He looked between the two of us, and I nodded.
“The way I see it, we may have two investigations to conduct. First is to figure out who the hell this Harris guy is, what and how much he’s given to China, and who else he’s connected to. At the same time, we need to determine whether this weasel has anything to do with Argead or if the two are unrelated. Then we meet in the middle.”
“Copy that,” both Cope and I responded.
“Irish.” He turned his chair so he was facing me. “Both teams report to you.” He looked over his shoulder at Cope. “As do you.”
“Roger that.”
“Good. Now, I’m going to ask one more thing of you.”
“Go ahead.”
“I want you to make Stella the lead on the Kerr side of things.”
“Roger that,” I repeated.
“No objections?”
“Isn’t that what she is now?”
“What we’ve been working on for the last few weeks is a flea on a dog compared to the horse we’ve gotta break now.” He looked between Cope and me. “No comment?”
“About the analogy?”
Decker laughed and pointed his thumb at Cope. “Is he really this much of a pussy?” he asked me.
“Not even a little bit.”
His eyes scrunched, and the smile left his face. “I’m damn glad to hear it, Irish.”
“News out of DC isn’t good, boys,” said Decker, looking at his phone several hours later. “Stella got the runaround today when she met with the attorney who took over after Barb’s lawyer was murdered, so she still hasn’t located the safe-deposit box. Worse, they found evidence that the housekeeper had been working for Kerr for years. Some relation to his wife.”
“And Kerr killed her?” asked Cope.
“If, in fact, he was the killer, then yes, it would appear that way.”
“How’s Stella doing?” I asked.
“She’s okay, Irish. I’m sure she’d appreciate hearing from you directly, though.”
I ignored his suggestion. I wasn’t quite ready for Stella and I to be “buds.”
The news didn’t get any better the following day. While Stella and Buck had figured out where the safe-deposit box was located, the branch manager of the bank was demanding a warrant for her to get into it. On top of that, the storm that had flooded the valley where the Roaring Fork Ranch was located had moved to the East Coast, wreaking havoc on travel. Even if they managed to get the box’s contents, now there was a question of whether they’d be able to return to Colorado in time to meet Buck’s curfew.
“How serious is Buck’s father’s will?” I asked Decker.
“According to Hammer, if Buck doesn’t follow it to the letter, the ranch will be sold and all the assets, including the proceeds from the sale, will be given to charity.”
“Seems extreme,” I mumbled.
“Extreme? Seems downright vengeful, bordering on psychotic, if you ask me.”
I was glad Decker said it because that was really more what I was thinking. I wondered how Flynn was doing and whether she even knew her brother was in danger of not making it back in time.
“I need to take a break,” I said, heading out to the porch to call her.
She sounded tired when she answered. “Hey, Paxon.”
“Hey, Flynn. I just wanted to check in with you. Things with the investigation have heated up. I anticipate working some long hours over the next few days, but I wanted you to know I was thinking about you.”
“I was thinking about you too, Paxon.”
“Yeah?”
“Yep.”
“I sure wish we could sit on my porch swing and talk again tonight.”
“I wish we could too. Listen, I have to go, though.”
“Everything okay?”
“I’m not sure yet. My brothers have called a family meeting. We might have to find a way to cover up the fact that Buck might not make it back within forty-eight hours.”
“I wondered if you’d heard.”
“Maybe we can talk later?”
“I’d like that.”
“How is she?” Decker asked when I came inside.
“If you’ve got my phone bugged enough to know who I was talking to, why is it you don’t know what we discussed?”
Decker laughed. “I know you were talking to Flynn by the look on your face, Irish. I don’t need any fancy spyware to read you like a book.”
“He’s smitten.”
I glared at Cope, stunned he would say something like that. “We’re friends.”
“Right,” both he and Decker said at the same time.
The next afternoon, we sat glued to our computers and phones, waiting for word from the East Coast. Buck returning to the ranch in forty-eight hours became the least of anyone’s worries when we were alerted that both Rock and Ink were down and Stella had been kidnapped—not in DC, as we’d thought; it all went down in New York City.
Finally, Decker managed to reach Jinx Jenkins, who, even though he was chief of the DC Metro Police, was on the scene in New York. Decker put the phone on speaker.
“Johnson, Ryan, and TJ are fine. Nicholas Kerr is dead, as are the crew that nabbed her. I’m going to need a little help, Decker. First of all, I have no jurisdiction in the State of New York. Second, even if I did, cleaning up this mess would have the media in a frenzy.”
“Jinx, you said you’re on the scene?” Decker asked.
“Affirmative.”
“What’s the twenty on Stella and Buck?”
“Your whole team is on their way to the airfield.”
“Copy that. Help is on the way.”
When Decker ended the call, he looked at Cope. “How many cleaners can you get to New York City, and how fast?”