Actual Stop (Agent O’Connor #1)(21)

I cringed as the slew of curses and insults continued to pick up steam and become increasingly more hateful until I was no longer in earshot. I’d always been amazed that a man as prickly as Mark had managed to get someone to agree to marry him. After what I’d just heard, I was flabbergasted he’d somehow gotten her to stay. I couldn’t imagine what poor Dharma had done to garner that sort of scolding, but I seriously doubted it warranted such cursing and belittling.

The sound of my own phone ringing floated to my ears, and I hurried the rest of the way down the hall. I made it to my desk just in time to grab it before the call got kicked over to voice mail.

“Secret Service.”

“Hey, Ryan. It’s Sarah.”

“Hey. What’s going on?”

“You okay? You sound a little breathless.”

“Yeah. Just got back from the gym. What’s up? You’re in early.”

“I could say the same for you. I didn’t expect to catch you. I was going to leave you a message.”

“I’ve got the POTUS visit on Monday. You?”

“I have a protection assignment today. I needed to grab some equipment from the office.”

“Ugh. Hopefully it’s a short one.”

“Yeah. Couple hours. I should be done around lunchtime.”

“Good luck.”

“You, too. I won’t keep you. Just wanted to touch base. Did you get a chance to talk to Akbari?”

I pulled the file folder containing my notes from the interview as well as the envelope with the pictures Meaghan had taken out of my desk drawer. “I did, actually. Night before last. I’m sorry I didn’t call you to fill you in. It’s been crazy here.”

“Don’t worry about it. I was out all day yesterday on a protection assignment and couldn’t really talk anyway. So what’d he say?”

“About what you’d expected. He claimed he doesn’t know where he got the bill.”

“Do you believe him?”

I snorted. “Of course not.”

Sarah chuckled. “Didn’t think so. Did you bring up the lying-to-a-federal-agent statute?”

I grinned. “Don’t I always?”

“That’s my girl.” Sarah’s tone was wry. “And it wasn’t enough to crack him, huh?”

“No, but it made him sweat a little. Literally and figuratively. I don’t think he’s involved in the actual printing, though. I took one of our evidentiary notes with me to play a little game of show-and-tell, and he didn’t even blink.”

“What kind of bill? How was it counterfeited?”

“On an ink-jet printer.”

“Oh, yeah. He’d have picked up on that difference right away if he was our guy.”

“Yeah, I thought so, too. But just because he isn’t printing them doesn’t mean he doesn’t know who is. In fact, I’ll bet you a genuine hundred that he does.”

Sarah made a clicking sound with her tongue. “A fool’s wager, since I want to believe that he knows. Think you can get it out of him?”

“I’m planning to try. I left him to think it over with the promise that I’d be back. I have the visit Monday, and then I roll into Iran on Thursday, but I plan to try to squeeze in another chat with him somewhere between them.”

“Jesus, you guys are almost as busy as we are.”

“Sarah, we’re busier than you are. We actually work cases.” I liked to tease her.

“Whatever.”

I laughed.

“Shut up. Oh, by the way, I’ve been meaning to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For my fruit basket and for sending those NYFO shirts down for Lydia. I take it that means your girl enjoyed the tickets?” The mischievous edge to her voice made me smile.

Lydia, Sarah’s boyfriend’s sister (or cousin or aunt or someone), was a trainer for the Connecticut Sun. Through Sarah, she’d provided me with front-row seats for a home game against the New York Liberty, which I’d used as a birthday surprise for Lucia—whose obsession with the Liberty bordered on fanatical.

Sarah had mentioned that Lydia was what we affectionately called a “holster sniffer”—someone with an affinity for law-enforcement officers—so I’d sent her a couple of NYFO Secret Service shirts as a thank you. Lucia’d had a blast, both at the game and then upon meeting some of the players afterward, so sending the trainer a few shirts and Sarah some fruit for her part in arranging it to show my gratitude was definitely the least I could do.

“Yeah, she was thrilled. Please thank Lydia again for me.”

“Can I tell her that her tickets got you laid?” Sarah sounded as though she was struggling not to laugh.

“No, you cannot tell her that!” My God, did the woman have no class?

“Oh, so you didn’t get laid?”

“I’m hanging up now, Sarah.”

Sarah wasn’t even trying to contain her laughter anymore. “Oh, come on. Brian’s overseas and won’t be back for months. I’ve got to live vicariously through someone.”

“I’ll talk to you later.”

I hung up, and the sound of hurried footsteps approaching my open office door made me tense and look up. It was still too early for most people to be here, and whatever would cause someone to move with that much purpose at this hour couldn’t be good.