on the bottom of her shoe. “I’m being serious here!”
“So am I.”
He got up and went to the sink. He ran a dish towel under the faucet and wiped down his face, which was covered in grime. He could have used a shower and a pizza, but he wasn’t getting either until he got rid of Andrea. It was either get her out or get her in his bed, and she looked like she’d bust his jaw if he so much as touched her.
He leaned back against the sink. “I started poking around, looking into what Hardin’s been up to for the last six years. I didn’t like what I found. Two weeks later, I persuaded our SAC to let Torres and me come out here to do some more digging.”
“You had to convince him?”
“San Antonio’s a busy field office. Besides antiterrorism and everything else, we’ve got our hands full with drug cartels and human trafficking. Not a lot of people sitting around twiddling their thumbs.”
“And what’d you find?”
“I can’t tell you all of it. But none of it’s good.”
She thrust her chin forward in that stubborn look that got his blood going.
“That’s the way it is, Andrea. I can’t tell you everything about my case. I probably shouldn’t even be telling you this much, but for some reason I trust you.”
“That, and you want me to get my brother to help you.”
Again, he figured his silence was confirmation enough.
She walked into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, facing him. Some of her color had returned, but her expression still looked grim.
“So you came out here to dig, and now you have reason to think Hardin’s going around knocking off banks. Why don’t you arrest him?”
“There’s the little problem of evidence. We’ve got some, but it’s all circumstantial. Ditto the judge’s murder. We need something concrete on either case to get an arrest warrant or even a search warrant.”
He thought about the rumor Elizabeth LeBlanc had told him that Maxwell was ready to pull the plug. It wasn’t a rumor. Maxwell had told him point-blank that he was getting ready to shut down this op. Jon was running out of time, but he’d never felt so close to a break, and he needed Gavin Finch to get it.
Andrea was watching him with suspicion. She still looked confused, too, and he didn’t blame her. It was a complicated case, which was one reason he’d had a hard time selling his theory to his superiors. Much easier to believe a simple explanation—especially one supported by the evidence.
“But what does this have to do with Senator Kirby? And my brother?”
“I’m not sure. Could be Hardin is using stolen money to fund other illegal activities. When I investigate, I always follow the money.” He suspected she did, too. She’d been asking about how Hardin earned a living.
“But why the senator?” she asked. “I thought Hardin had a vendetta against the judge.”
“He did. But the judge is dead, and now he’s moved on to bigger targets. Kirby’s conveniently nearby, and he’s controversial. He’s been in the news a lot.”
“I don’t even keep up with politics, and I’ve heard all about him,” she said. “He’s ticked off a lot of people by putting his name on that gun law.”
“He’s trying to prove he’s tough on crime.”
“Well, it backfired. Now there’s no shortage of people who’d like to see him lose the next election.”
Jon nodded. “And a fraction of those who’d like to see him dead. Or hurt his family. Believe me, we know. Until this morning, we had a team of agents in Philly working ’round the clock on whether the university bombing was directed at the senator. They put together a list of groups that might be responsible, and you know what’s at the top of the list?” He stepped closer. “Militia groups, neo-Nazis, and antigovernment orgs. And you know what else? We have no surveillance footage of Hardin on his property at the time of the bombing. None. But Torres and I did find footage from the parking garage at the El
“So am I.”
He got up and went to the sink. He ran a dish towel under the faucet and wiped down his face, which was covered in grime. He could have used a shower and a pizza, but he wasn’t getting either until he got rid of Andrea. It was either get her out or get her in his bed, and she looked like she’d bust his jaw if he so much as touched her.
He leaned back against the sink. “I started poking around, looking into what Hardin’s been up to for the last six years. I didn’t like what I found. Two weeks later, I persuaded our SAC to let Torres and me come out here to do some more digging.”
“You had to convince him?”
“San Antonio’s a busy field office. Besides antiterrorism and everything else, we’ve got our hands full with drug cartels and human trafficking. Not a lot of people sitting around twiddling their thumbs.”
“And what’d you find?”
“I can’t tell you all of it. But none of it’s good.”
She thrust her chin forward in that stubborn look that got his blood going.
“That’s the way it is, Andrea. I can’t tell you everything about my case. I probably shouldn’t even be telling you this much, but for some reason I trust you.”
“That, and you want me to get my brother to help you.”
Again, he figured his silence was confirmation enough.
She walked into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, facing him. Some of her color had returned, but her expression still looked grim.
“So you came out here to dig, and now you have reason to think Hardin’s going around knocking off banks. Why don’t you arrest him?”
“There’s the little problem of evidence. We’ve got some, but it’s all circumstantial. Ditto the judge’s murder. We need something concrete on either case to get an arrest warrant or even a search warrant.”
He thought about the rumor Elizabeth LeBlanc had told him that Maxwell was ready to pull the plug. It wasn’t a rumor. Maxwell had told him point-blank that he was getting ready to shut down this op. Jon was running out of time, but he’d never felt so close to a break, and he needed Gavin Finch to get it.
Andrea was watching him with suspicion. She still looked confused, too, and he didn’t blame her. It was a complicated case, which was one reason he’d had a hard time selling his theory to his superiors. Much easier to believe a simple explanation—especially one supported by the evidence.
“But what does this have to do with Senator Kirby? And my brother?”
“I’m not sure. Could be Hardin is using stolen money to fund other illegal activities. When I investigate, I always follow the money.” He suspected she did, too. She’d been asking about how Hardin earned a living.
“But why the senator?” she asked. “I thought Hardin had a vendetta against the judge.”
“He did. But the judge is dead, and now he’s moved on to bigger targets. Kirby’s conveniently nearby, and he’s controversial. He’s been in the news a lot.”
“I don’t even keep up with politics, and I’ve heard all about him,” she said. “He’s ticked off a lot of people by putting his name on that gun law.”
“He’s trying to prove he’s tough on crime.”
“Well, it backfired. Now there’s no shortage of people who’d like to see him lose the next election.”
Jon nodded. “And a fraction of those who’d like to see him dead. Or hurt his family. Believe me, we know. Until this morning, we had a team of agents in Philly working ’round the clock on whether the university bombing was directed at the senator. They put together a list of groups that might be responsible, and you know what’s at the top of the list?” He stepped closer. “Militia groups, neo-Nazis, and antigovernment orgs. And you know what else? We have no surveillance footage of Hardin on his property at the time of the bombing. None. But Torres and I did find footage from the parking garage at the El
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