The Chance (Thunder Point #4)(36)

“Depends. Do you know what it is? Because I’m resting. I’m not infiltrating any cults or communes, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t know what he wants, exactly. He’s probably going to call you. He mentioned to my boss—who mentioned to me—that if they were looking for someone with federal investigative experience, you were still in the area. And you know how to work with the local cops.”

“We all know how,” she said, a little irritated by the inference that the fibbies took over. Even though they had earned that reputation very honestly.

He chuckled. “Just so you know—I think he’ll call you.”

“Side jobs like that while I’m on leave have to be cleared through my division, not his.”

“I’m sure you can work out details like that. I thought maybe a part-time job could come in handy. Just in case you could use a couple of bucks.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll let you know what I hear.”

* * *

As it happened, Laine didn’t need money. She had money. She’d always had money. And her mother, Janice, had made sure that upon her death Laine and Pax would have what she referred to as a parting gift. Of course her father, Paxton Sr., was loaded and unless he decided to punish her for disobedience, she’d eventually have a big load of his money dumped on her. Of course, Senior was also young and healthy—seventy, sturdy, strong, robust. Very stubborn. He’d live to be a hundred. And she wouldn’t be surprised if the division of assets favored Pax.

But Laine had always been very careful not to live rich once she left home. She was also cautious about how she parceled out information about her youth and her parents—it wasn’t typical for an agent to come from wealth. In fact, it was the rare law enforcement officer or agent whose family was stinkin’ rich. It came out, of course. She’d been razzed a little bit about being born with a silver spoon in her mouth, as though that meant she wasn’t clear on how the other half lived, or as if that had anything to do with her ability to do the job well. There had been one agent who called her Duchess. She pretty much wanted to kill him. That guy wasn’t just jealous of the money he thought she had, he was also jealous of her brain. But she was promoted ahead of him and was better respected, so he could go to hell. She lived conservatively; had a modest town house, drove an Acura. An upgraded Acura, but still...

Here in Thunder Point, they didn’t know.

Eric sort of knew. He knew how she’d grown up and easily surmised her childhood was more advantageous than his. But like everything with Eric, he seemed to take it in stride. In fact, his whole existence was that way—just nice and easy. It was as if he knew everyone had baggage and his wasn’t any heavier than what anyone, rich or poor, carried. Maybe that was his trick—if he didn’t make something a big deal, then it wasn’t. It was as if he was in some Zen place with life and the world.

In fact, the biggest baggage he’d displayed so far was his concern over Laine finding herself in dangerous situations. After throwing him, she hadn’t heard about it again.

So, Laine didn’t need to earn any money. But there was something she realized she needed after a little more than a month in Thunder Point. She needed something to do. She’d always worked or gone to school or both. Always. And now not only did she have time off, but she also had a man in her life, a man who put in very long hours. If she didn’t find productive ways to fill her days she’d find herself building every second around the reappearance of her man. And she was not that kind of woman.

Just the suggestion of work lit a fire under her. It was time to get moving again—the shoulder was no longer an excuse. She searched out karate dojos and found that while there were many, she’d probably have to drive to North Bend for the one that appealed to her the most.

A few days later she went to the Douglas County Sheriff’s Department and found they had a few cases of interstate flight that had gone cold, mostly domestic situations, custodial interference, et cetera. The FBI had bigger fish to fry and would be of little assistance there, but the sheriff wanted to pursue them. Dedicated but boring work, yet something she could do with a minimum of aggravation.

Getting cleared to consult for the sheriff through her boss started something of a firestorm, however. Her division chief said if she was willing to spend some hours, they had a crunch of background checks in the area they could use help on. So within a week she had a full roster of investigative jobs. And they weren’t all at the computer. She would be needed in the field. Since she hadn’t been firearm-qualified in a long time, she had to get that done. The sheriff’s department was happy to assist.

Out of the blue her phone rang and caller ID identified Senior. Still angry with him, she flipped him to voice mail. His message was “Where are you? When will you be home?” She was baffled at the nonchalance and lack of any attempt to apologize. She didn’t respond, of course. Two hours later, Senior called again. Every couple of hours he called, but didn’t leave another message.

She called her brother. “What’s up with Senior? He’s been calling but only left one message, asking where I was and when I’d be home. Like he’s pretending we’re not estranged. Have you talked to him?”

“Yesterday,” Pax said. “He didn’t mention you. Are you two ready for a truce?”