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“You know you aren’t supposed to be up there,” she chided the dog softly. Harold wagged his tail once without lifting his head, and she didn’t have the heart to disturb him. “But I guess maybe you think he needs a friend. I’ll give you an hour, and then you’re on the floor.”
She quietly shook out an afghan and covered Nathan with it. On her way back to the kitchen she unplugged the ancient landline telephone/fax/copier. It was noisy, and she certainly didn’t want him to hear it if one of Allan’s rare faxes came through.
The evening hadn’t turned out as she’d thought. The dinner didn’t matter, but she’d wanted to discuss her job and her work.
He had to know that the DEA usually worked closely with a local task force involving the BCA and local sheriff’s department, but they also worked some operations alone, and this just happened to be one of them.
He’d understand why she hadn’t been straightforward with him. Wouldn’t he?
* * * *
DIMLY AWARE of something nudging at her arm, Sara opened one eye and found herself staring into Harold’s eager expression.
Wagging his tail vigorously, Harold bounced across the small living area to the door, then trotted back to her, his tail still wagging.
“I know what you want, but why does it have to be so early?” Groggy, her muscles stiff and neck aching, she looked around and discovered she’d fallen asleep on the recliner and had stayed there all night.
“So that’s why you’re so well rested, you stinker! You must have stayed on my bed.” Reaching for him with both hands, she ruffled the fur beneath his collar, then rose and looked over at the sofa, where Nathan was still asleep.
She softly shut the door between the kitchen and living room, glad she still wore the sweats she’d had on last night, and quickly pulled on her snow boots and down jacket.
In a few minutes she and Harold were outside in the sharp, cold air—fifteen below, according to the thermometer tacked to the top rail of the stairs to her apartment—and heading out into the early light of dawn for a fast walk.
Even with heavy clothes and lined boots, the frigid wind knifed through to her skin, and it hurt to breathe.
At the end of the block, she slipped off a glove and reached into her jacket pocket. “Hey, I’m rich!” she told Harold, waving the five-dollar bill she’d found. “Let’s hit the bakery, okay? We’re cold, anyway. What’s a few more blocks?”
The town was still asleep, save for the bakery at the far end, and the street lamps and the twinkling Christmas lights in storefronts made the snow on the sidewalk sparkle like sequins. Peaceful. Hushed.
She broke into a jog with Harold bounding along beside her. At the bakery she brought him into the old-fashioned entryway and tied him to a cold radiator pipe, stamped the snow from her boots, then went through the second door into the light and warmth of the store.
She closed her eyes briefly and savored the sweet scents of fresh bread and cinnamon rolls. The weather forecasters promised slightly higher temperatures tomorrow, with freezing rain followed by up to six inches of snow. She’d buy a dozen rolls, maybe, in case they were snowed in for days.
The thought of being snowed in with Nathan gave her a little shiver of anticipation. She could finally tell him what she was doing in town, and maybe they could get to know each other better—
Someone seated at one of the small tables rustled a newspaper, then chuckled. “This bakery is a good place to be on a cold morning, isn’t it? Try the blueberry muffins.”
Surprised, she turned to find Ian Flynn with a welcoming smile on his face and a cup of steaming coffee raised in friendly greeting.
“Um...yes. It sure is.”
He gestured toward the empty seat at his table. “Join me?”
She’d planned to bring the rolls back to share with Nathan, but this was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. “Sure.”
When she’d purchased the rolls and a cup of coffee, she settled down across the table from him. “I’m Sara Hanrahan.”
He folded his paper and set it aside, then extended his hand across the table and shook hers in a firm, decisive manner. “I’ve seen you around quite a bit with that dog of yours. You’re a friend of Jane’s, right?”
He’d been less than cordial when he’d found her alone in Jane’s office back in October, and his friendliness now made her wary. “Yes, that’s right.”
He gave her a conspiratorial wink. “I’ve heard about you.”
A chill settled in her stomach. “You have?” She’d been so careful. No one should have found out. Her mind raced through the possibilities for ending the operation with a reasonable chance of collaring the villains. Now none of them looked good.
But even if they weren’t able to bring down the whole pipeline, drug dogs could certainly detect microscopic residue. At least some smaller players could be taken off the streets.
Leaning back in his chair, Ian took a sip of his coffee. “And I just want to say that I’m happy, real happy. I hope this all works out. You seem like the right woman for the job.”
