Hard Target. Barb HanЧитать онлайн книгу.
years on the job told him she wasn’t a hard-core criminal. There was something about her situation, her, that ate at his insides. God help him.
“This is Jared,” came through the cell. His voice was crisp, and he sounded young. Early thirties.
Reed identified himself as a Border Patrol agent. “I’m calling to verify employment.”
“Then you’ll want to speak to HR.”
“I’d rather talk to you if it’s possible,” Reed interjected.
“That’s against policy—”
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t a matter of national security. You can clear something up for me. Save me a lot of time going through rigmarole, sir.” Reed listened for the telltale signs he’d convinced Jared.
A deep sigh came across the line.
Bingo. “Does Emily Baker work for you?”
“Yes, she does. Why? Is she all right?”
Reed picked up on the uncomfortable note in Jared’s voice. Was it curiosity or something more? “Is she there today?”
“No. She’s on vacation. Mexico, I think.”
Part of her story matched up. The woman sitting beside him could be anyone, though. He’d already caught her glimpsing his gun. Logic told him she was debating whether or not to make a run for it.
“Can you give me a description of Miss Baker?”
“Why? Did something happen to her?” Panic raised his tone an octave. Something told Reed the guy on the phone was interested in more than her work performance. Wasn’t he the caring boss? A twinge of jealousy shot through him. What was that all about?
She was vulnerable. Reed’s protective instincts jumped into overdrive. He was reacting as he would if this was one of his sisters, he told himself.
“No. Nothing to worry about, sir. Routine questions.” Reed hadn’t exactly lied. She was a witness.
“Okay. Good. Um, let’s see. She’s medium height, thin, light brown hair. She’s a runner, so, um, she has the build for it, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah. I get the reference.” How nice that her boss paid attention to her workout routine. Clearly, there was more to this story. An office affair? Disappointment settled over Reed for reasons he couldn’t explain. Why did he care whom she dated?
He reminded himself to focus on the case. This woman fit two-thirds of the description. It was obvious her hair had been bleached. The dye job was bad, and so was the cut. Her hair had been chopped off. Even so, she was beautiful.
And her legs were long and toned. She could be a runner. He made a mental note of the fact, in case she decided to bolt. It was easy to see she was in good physical condition, aside from events of the past few days.
She glanced around, antsy. Her expression set, determined, as she skimmed the docks. Was she working with someone? For someone?
Or was she just a few grains of sand short of a castle?
The tougher job was to assess her mental fitness. If she wasn’t involved in bringing guns into the country, and, really and truly, she would’ve been smart enough to have one loaded at the ready if she was, he had to consider the possibility she might be a danger to herself or others.
He’d witnessed all kinds of crazy.
In fact, in six years with Border Patrol, he’d seen just about everything. And a whole lot of nothing, too, especially when he was a rookie.
“Eye color?”
“Green, I think.”
They were hazel, but lots of people confused hazel with green or blue. The description was close enough. “Thank you, sir. That clears everything up.”
“She’ll be back to work next Monday, right?”
Reed figured the boss wanted the answer to his question more for personal reasons than anything else. “I don’t see why not.”
“And she’s okay? You’re sure?”
Another sprig of jealousy sprouted. “She is. That’s all the information I need. Have a nice—”
“I don’t want to ask anything inappropriate, but our job requires a certain level of security clearance. She hasn’t gone and done anything that might jeopardize her position at work, has she?”
“Why would she do that?” Reed knew she wasn’t telling him something, but he doubted she was involved in criminal activity. Couldn’t rule it out yet. Even though his instincts never lied, he preferred logic and evidence. Did this whole episode have to do with her job? What would she have to gain?
A relieved sigh came across the line. “She wouldn’t. At least, I don’t think she would. I guess you can never really tell about people, but I don’t have to tell you that. Not in your line of work.”
The man finally said something smart. “Desperate people can do all kinds of interesting things.”
“I’m sure. I already asked, but she’s okay, right?”
“Yeah. She’ll be back to work next week, and I’m sure she’ll explain everything then.” Reed ended the call.
“I lost my job, didn’t I?” She sounded defeated. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You didn’t tell me everything,” he hedged.
She repositioned in her seat.
“You’re tired and hungry, so I’m afraid you’re going to make a bad choice. Whatever you’re running from, I can help you.”
She deadpanned him. “No. You can’t.”
“Not if you don’t tell me what it is.”
“I won’t run. Please don’t take me in.” Her wide hazel eyes pleaded.
“There’s protocol for situations like these. You came into the country in a shipment full of guns. Who do they belong to?”
“I’d tell you if I knew.” Tears welled in her eyes.
“I need a name. They’ll take it easy on you if you cooperate.”
“Are you arresting me?” She glanced toward the field to her right.
Was she getting ready to make her move?
He started the engine, determined to keep her from making another mistake she’d regret. “Buckle up. We can finish this conversation over a burger.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Are you going to arrest me?” she repeated slowly, as if he was dim.
“No. Why? Do you plan on giving me a reason to?”
The drive to the nearest fast-food burger place was quiet. His passenger closed her eyes and laid her head back.
She didn’t open them when he pulled into the drive-through lane and ordered two burgers, two fries and two milkshakes at the speaker box.
Reed gripped the steering wheel tighter, thinking about what she’d been through in the past few days. He also realized she was keeping secrets. Professional curiosity had him wanting to find out what they were. Or was it something else?
He dismissed the idea as standing in the sun too long back at the docks. His interest in Emily Baker was purely professional.
At this point, he’d classify her as a witness. However, she was walking a fine line of being moved into another category—suspect—and she didn’t want to be there. He should probably haul her up to Homeland Security and be done.
But he couldn’t.
Something in those hazel eyes told him there was a bigger story, one