“Hey, is Van back from his gig?”
“Yeah, this morning,” Sam replied. “He’s sleeping.”
“Get him up. I need him to do something for me.”
“Can’t it wait? He’s on day four of no rest.”
“No, it can’t wait,” Garrett said impatiently. “I wouldn’t have called if it could wait.”
“Impatient bastard,” Sam grumbled. “If you get me into trouble with my wife for this, I’ll kick your ass. She’s ruthless right now.”
Garrett chuckled. “Still hasn’t dropped the kid, huh.”
“Hell, no. If she doesn’t pop soon, I’m seriously contemplating moving out.”
Garrett rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why you say that shit. You’re full of crap and we both know it.”
“Hang on, I’ll wake Van up.”
Garrett heard muffled voices and one distinct groan. He grinned. Donovan did love his sleep and he wouldn’t appreciate being pulled out of bed. But Garrett didn’t want to wait another twenty-four hours to find out what his brother needed while Donovan caught up on his beauty rest.
“What the f**k do you want?” Donovan’s bleary voice bled over the line.
“Hello to you too. I need you to run something for me.”
“This couldn’t wait a few goddamn hours?”
Garrett’s eyebrows went up. Cranky son of a bitch. He really must have missed some serious sleep to be this grouchy.
“No, it can’t wait.”
“Well hell,” Donovan muttered. “Give me a sec to get to Hoss.”
Garrett waited patiently, drumming his fingers on the counter by the can of beer. Deciding to utilize the time wisely, he propped the phone between his shoulder and ear and set about fixing a couple of sandwiches to go with the beer.
A few minutes later, Donovan’s irritable grunt sounded. “What the hell is so important that you couldn’t wait for me to catch a few hours’ sleep?”
“I need you to dig up some info on Sarah Daniels.”
“What? I already gave you her file. I can’t believe this.”
Garrett stuffed a bite of the sandwich into his mouth and then mumbled around it. “No, no, I need you to dig deeper. I think I’m missing something here. I want you to check on any police reports that might have her name in it. Hospital records. Anything that suggests she was a victim.”
There was a long pause. “Victim of what, Garrett?”
“That’s what I need you to find out. That file Resnick gave us just gave info on her as it related to Lattimer and the guy he supposedly killed. I need to know more about Sarah herself and what makes her tick. She’s skittish as hell, and she was attacked today.”
“What the hell?” Donovan cut in. “Is everything okay there? Do you need us?”
Garrett chugged down a swallow of beer. “Nothing I can’t handle. Some ass**le tried to nab her bag. But she fell apart. I mean, not that it wouldn’t be normal for her to be scared to death, but it was eerie. And then we get to the constable’s office and suddenly she changes her mind, says she doesn’t want to press charges and walks out. Part of it is I think she realized at the last minute that she would draw unwanted attention to herself, but I also think something else is going on here and I want to know what. I’m going to need all the ammo I can get, because she’s going to be a hard nut to crack.”
“Okay, I’ll see what I can dig up. You want me to call you when I’m done or you want to call me back later?”
“I’ll call you in an hour or so,” Garrett replied.
Donovan snorted. “That confident I can find what you want by then?”
“You’re the geek.”
“That’s Mr. Geek to you, and you can kiss my ass.”
Garrett made a smooching noise through the phone and then hung up. He finished the half-eaten sandwich and chugged the last of his beer before ambling over to his window to peer down the beach at Sarah’s cottage.
He frowned and leaned closer when he saw her sitting on her steps, head down. She looked utterly defeated, her shoulders slumped, the ends of her hair lifting and blowing this way and that in the steady ocean breeze. Had she ever gone into her cottage?
He wasn’t sure what bothered him about her. It could be she was sitting out, enjoying the day, but after what had happened earlier, he couldn’t quite believe that. He’d expected he wouldn’t see her again for a while and that she’d hole up in her cottage.
She moved but it was only to bury her face in her hands and then her fingers slid over her forehead and into her hair. Hell. She was crying.
His stomach tightened and he turned away, unsettled by her obvious distress. This was a prime opportunity to go over and be sensitive or whatever it was women liked for men to be. But he’d rather go another round with the shithead Didier than face a woman’s tears.
He sighed and blew out his breath. He was going to have to go over there. If she did hole up, he probably wouldn’t see her for days. And he couldn’t very keep an eye on her if she wasn’t in sight.
Vacation or not, he’d prefer to be knee-deep in a jungle viewing the world through his scope. At least he knew what the hell to do in those kinds of situations. Shoot first, no questions later. That was easy. Figuring out how to gain the trust of a woman scared shitless? Yeah, he was f**ked.
Chocolate. Weren’t women supposed to be rabid predators of chocolate? He’d waved a chocolate bar in front of Sophie’s nose more than once and been forgiven for all manner of transgressions.