Windermere and Mathers took the first flight to Chicago O’Hare Wednesday morning. An FBI agent waited for them in the arrivals terminal. Windermere recognized him instantly.
“Wintergreen,” he said, flashing her a wide smile. “Didn’t we do this before, you and I?”
“Good morning, Agent Davis,” she said, ignoring the way his hand seemed to linger on hers. “Back for another try, are you?”
Davis snorted. “I could say the same for you. We going to find us a real bad guy this time?”
“Probably not,” Windermere told him, “but we’re hopeful. This is Agent Mathers.”
Davis gave Mathers an appraising look. His smile faded somewhat. “I’m outside,” he said, and led them through the terminal to an FBI-issue Yukon double-parked at the curb.
Mathers stole a glance at Windermere as they walked. “You know this guy?”
“Pender case,” Windermere told him.
“He sounds like he missed you.”
She rolled her eyes. “He offered to give me a tour of Chicago last time I was in town. I respectfully declined. He didn’t take it so well.”
Mathers glanced at Davis. Then he grinned. “Respectfully, huh?”
Windermere grinned back. They climbed into Davis’s SUV, and the Chicago agent drove away from the terminal. “Our suspect’s name is Alex Kent,” Windermere told him. “Lives in Logan Square. We don’t think he’s dangerous, but we can’t be certain.”
“So long as he’s home,” said Davis. “That’s all I’m asking.”
They drove away from the airport and into Chicagoland. Davis took the Kennedy Expressway into the city, got off in Logan Square, and drove past a couple gas stations and strip malls before turning down a short residential street. He parked the Yukon across from a narrow, two-story brick house, and glanced over at Windermere. “Address?”
Windermere looked out at the house. “That’s the place.”
“No tactical this time,” said Davis. “You cool with that?”
“Should be fine. But guns drawn. Mathers, go around back.”
“Roger.”
Windermere studied the house some more. It was a nice little place. Well taken care of. A white railing ringed the porch. It looked bright, freshly painted. “Okay,” she said, reaching for her sidearm. “Let’s go find Alex Kent.”