33

Jim was drying off when he heard the knock at the door. He’d jumped in the shower right after leaving the restaurant. Wanted the grime and sweat of the dying neighborhood and the steamy Texas heat off his skin before he went to sleep.

“Yeah?” He never put his eye to a peep hole.

“Pizza delivery.” O’s rumbly voice was easily recognizable.

Jim swung open the door. To his great and unpleasant surprise, Agent Webb walked in … followed by Oscar you’re getting your ass kicked Olsen. Jim tightened the towel wrapped around his waist. Did she give him a good once-over before she turned away? Probably not. He needed some sleep.

“Sorry, bro. Didn’t know you were … um … naked.”

“I’m not naked.” Jim headed to the bathroom to grab his jeans. If O was matchmaking at this time of night, Jim was going to find a good payback.

“Mostly naked,” O allowed. “Nice abs. Been lifting again, I see.”

Through the mirror Jim saw her give an eye roll. She didn’t find his nakedness quite as amusing as O. Could be a good thing. Could be bad.

And his gym time was to burn off steam. Properly release his anger. Or so the court order had read. Didn’t hurt to be in shape in his business either and O knew it.

“Why are you two here, O?”

“Ran into Lady Fed in the hall. She was on her way.”

Jim popped his head out of the bath as he buttoned his jeans. She didn’t correct O’s comment.

“I got something on Elizabeth Stanton.”

As if on cue, his phone started blaring “Smoke on the Water.” Ely. The phone was by the bed, across the room. She was a Fed, worked around men. His walking around shirtless shouldn’t offend her sensitivity. And if it did, he wasn’t sure he cared. He picked up the phone. “You have good stuff for me?”

“I do, my fine friend.” Ely was always on target. He’d get the chance to one-up the woman. “I do. How’s Lady Fed?”

What? “How do you know about … ” Jim was going to say her name, but that would give her reason to believe they were taking about her. She was smart enough to see they were all plotting to put them together as a couple. Probably already picked up on it. That pissed him off too. He had no intention of adding to the farce. He glared at O as Webb looked out the window. Not that the view was exciting. His room overlooked the parking area.

“Good news travels fast,” Ely said.

Jim gritted his teeth. “There is no good news. Unless, of course, you have some for me.”

“Bummer. And I do.”

“Well?”

“So you want the Stanton stuff or the mother stuff first?”

Jim looked at the Fed. “You coming up here to share info on Stanton?”

“Who is that?” she asked.

At the same time, Ely asked, “Is that Lady Fed? You in her room?”

“Special Agent Ava Webb, meet Ely. Go on with the Stanton info.” Jim hit speaker button. “This is my research guru, Ely.”

“Hello, Miss Ava Webb, Lady Fed.” Ely was stoned. He all but sang out her name.

Her brows drew at Ely’s tone. “He together enough to be reliable?”

Jim sighed. “Would I have put him on speaker if I didn’t think he was okay?”

She frowned and stepped a little closer. Her eyes scanned his chest again. That time he was sure of it. Jim inwardly smiled.

Ely started, “Elizabeth Stanton. Born in Sweetwater, no real records until ’89. Graduated University of North Texas in Dallas with a logistical something or other degree. Social Security records show two jobs in her career. One short term at a car rental company, the other with a warehouse distribution firm. You know, trucking and logistics and shit. She was there at least six years. Then she drops off the face of the earth. No money trail. Nothing.”

Jim rubbed his chin. “That time period. The seven years or so she was employed. That the quiet time in the killing spree?”

Agent Webb nodded.

Ely said, “You got it.”

So they had the same information. Where was her partner from the Vegas office, anyway?

“All lines up.” O oozed into the chair at the tiny desk in the room. He’d been drinking all evening. Jim had a stash of scotch he’d been about ready to crack open. He wanted it now.

“But it tells us nothing.” Jim shook his head. “So she had a job. Killing pimps seemed to be her job for a while before that. Pays her way through school with the drug sales? Then she goes all respectable? That would mean she was in school, turning tricks, and selling drugs. Busy young lady.”

“Makes her smart and hard working. But fragile and easily thrown off kilter,” Ava added. Jim shook his head at himself for thinking of the agent by her first name. He’d intentionally kept her at a distance by reminding himself she was an FBI agent and Jim was not. It would be like dating a really rich chick. You’d never be on her level. Not really.

“No shit,” Ely said. “But I got another bone for you.”

He paused. He always did. Jim could see him sitting at his wall of computers and grinning like a kid with a new Xbox.

“Don’t keep us hanging too long,” O shouted so he’d be heard from across the small hotel room. “We’re all here looking at Jimbo’s throbbing pecs while you shoot for the dramatic pause. It’s taking away from the effect.”

Jim grabbed a tee from his bag and pulled it over his head.

“Stealing my thunder, Bean?” Ely drawled.

“Ely.”

“I found her real mom, bro.”

“Sophie’s real mom, not the foster mom?” Jim had talked to that family. They’d said terrible things about the girl. Not surprising, given what Dan had said about the way the fosters had treated her. Nothing to really consider there, since he was sure the foster father had abused Sophie.

“Exactly.” Ely cleared his throat. “Her name is Mary Callas. Looks like she gave up three kids to the system over about seven years. Get this. All three were named ‘Something’ Ryan Evers. Oldest, Samantha Ryan Evers, died in a car wreck in 2001. Middle, Sarah Ryan, moved to Idaho and got married real young. You Feds find that shit out?”

Ava frowned. “Not yet. We didn’t have a lead to make us think tracking down the birth mother would be of importance.”

“You were not adopted then, Miss Lady Fed. My girlfriend was. She’s looking for her mom right now. Probably dead, but I think maybe all abandoned kids feel the desire to seek out mom.”

She nodded to the phone. “You got me there, Ely.”

Ha! His guy had one-upped the Feds. Take that. “Nice job, anything else?”

“No. Annie misses you. You want to talk to her?”

Ava raised an eyebrow.

“Miss her too, but I can’t talk now. Work to do.” Interesting. Maybe Agent Ava was a little bit jealous.

O butted in. “Give her some tuna.”

Ava looked appropriately confused at O’s order.

“Cats love tuna, don’t they?” His tone dripped amusement.

So much for making the Fed think there was a little woman named Annie at home waiting for him.

“They do,” Ely agreed.

“Goodbye, Ely.”

“Later, Jim. See you in the a.m., O.”

Jim looked at Oscar.

Ely sang over the phone, “Goodbye, Lady Fed.”

Jim ended the call. “Heading home?”

O shrugged and put his arms up, locking fingers behind his head. “I figured you and Agent Webb here have things firmly in hand. No need for me to be tagging along. I got a business to run.”

His leaving Jim alone with Agent Webb was definitely playing matchmaker, but O’s reasoning made perfect sense. No way to argue it. Jim was the one emotionally invested in the case, not O. He’d be available if Jim needed him, no question about that, but talking him into staying was impossible.

“I’ll check in on Dan as soon as I get there and often. Is he in the same place?” O asked.

“We haven’t made the move yet. But I’ll clear you when we do. Probably tomorrow.”

“Why so long?” Jim would have figured for a quick move.

“Sometimes we do a fake-out move. Let the bad element believe the subjects have been moved. His mother is old. Taking her a long way off would be hard on her. My partner is there, coordinating with the locals. Dan’s being consulted today, we’re getting his opinions.”

“Wow. Considering the subject’s opinion.” Not what Jim expected to hear. “Kinder, gentler FBI?”

She smiled. “Not exactly. People in protective custody tend to stay in custody longer and stay safer when they have some say. Likely, we’ll move your boy and his mom to another local spot. She’s really frail. Don’t want it to be too hard.”

O piped up. “So I’m out for the night. On a jet plane in the a.m. Call me if you need.” He gave a pathetic salute and left Jim standing in his hotel room with Special Agent Ava Webb.

“Tomorrow. Distribution company and the mom’s house?”

Jim nodded.

“Eight. In the restaurant?” She was looking at the carpet. Or was it his bare feet? He hadn’t answered, so she looked back up. Damn, her eyes were green.

“Got it. Breakfast at eight.”

“No. Ready to go at eight.”

Not a breakfast invitation then. He needed that scotch.