Sinclair stayed on the right of the assistant attorney general as she expertly walked the horse back down a slope of tall grass to a crushed bluestone bridle path. He almost bumped into her as she suddenly halted at the entrance of the tree line.
“Francis, could you pull up your shirt and turn out your pockets for me?” Dawn Warner said.
A chatter of insects started up as he followed her instructions. The humid breeze on his bare stomach suddenly made him feel sick and filthy like he was doing something illicit.
Which made sense, he thought. Since he was doing something illicit.
“Excellent,” she said. “Hate to even ask but one can’t be too careful with being recorded these days. Nice abs, by the way, though a tad pale. You need to get some sun before the summer’s over, Francis, or what’s the point?”
“What can I do for you?” Sinclair said.
“Where is Special Agent Kit Hagen?” Dawn Warner said with a curious tilt of her bobby-helmeted head.
“At home on leave where I sent her the way you told me to,” Sinclair said.
Warner made a disappointed sort of sigh as she reached up and took out an iPad from a saddlebag.
“Watch this, please,” she said, handing it to him.
Sinclair cupped his hand over the screen and watched.
“Isn’t that funny?” Warner said as the video showed Kit Hagen walking along a corridor. “That looks like Hagen, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. Where is this?”
“Wyoming,” Dawn Warner said.
“Wyoming?”
“Yes. Casper, Wyoming. Yesterday she went into a college and flashed her badge. Said she was looking for a person of interest. Isn’t that odd?”
“How did you find this out?”
“The security head at the college there used to be DEA in Denver. He put in an inquiry. Didn’t feel completely kosher, he said.”
“Is that right?”
“Do you know this man with her?” Warner said pointing. “Could this be a boyfriend?”
“Maybe. I’ve never laid eyes on him.”
Which actually didn’t mean much, Sinclair thought. Unlike himself, Kit was sharp enough to keep her personal stuff personal.
“Well, he was with her. Can you explain why she is in Casper, Wyoming?”
“No,” Sinclair said.
“I think I can,” Dawn Warner said, staring at him. “Which is the reason why we’re having this conversation.”
“I don’t—” Sinclair started.
“Rein her in. And I mean yesterday, Francis. She’s veering into a no-fly zone of extreme danger. I’m not kidding. This isn’t me talking. If you care about her—or your promotion—you need to get her back here to DC pronto.”
“But how do I do it? I call her and say what?”
Dawn Warner squinted at him as she took a riding crop from the saddle and began to stroke the horse’s nose with it.
“You know the difference between you and this rented horse here, Francis?” she said, smiling. “This rented horse is smart enough to never ask me how to follow orders. Which part of ‘get Hagen back here by Monday’ is eluding you?”
“I’ll take care of it,” Sinclair said, wiping at the sweat on his brow.
“You better, Francis,” Dawn Warner said, giving Sinclair a good long view of the back of her immodestly tight pants as she tucked the crop back in the saddle.
“Have a great rest of your weekend, now,” she called as she led the horse away down the path. “And please say hello to your better half for me.”