Who was she to order him around?
“I told the FBI, I had no need for a protective detail. Plus, they obviously aren’t worth a shit if someone broke into my house right under their noses. Whoever snuck out of there wasn’t me; I’ve been away from home for hours.”
“Besides the damage our protective detail caused, we didn’t find any sign of forced entry. If someone actually did break into your house, they’re good and would seem to justify us having you under protection. In the future, we’d appreciate you keeping us informed of your whereabouts.”
“You have no authority over me. I don’t have to keep you informed of shit,” Phipps barked.
“I have the full cooperation of your chief of police. And I believe he does exercise authority over you.”
“Not when I’m off-duty.”
“I’ll discuss the incident with your command. May I ask where you’ve been?”
What fucking business is it of hers? “You can ask.”
“Okay, we’ll do it your way. You might want to return home and secure your front door.”
“I’m en route. I expect the FBI to pay for the damages.”
“If I were you, finances would be the least of my concerns.”
“Is that a thr…”
The line went dead before he could finish his sentence.
Bitch.
THORPE HAD NO DIFFICUTLY DECIPHERING this phone conversation.
“And people call me a bitch,” Collins mumbled as she lowered her cell. “What an ass.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I haven’t sent Phipps a Christmas card in quite some time.”
“Let’s get out of here.”
“You don’t want to hang around till he gets home and chew on his ass some more?”
“That wouldn’t be productive.”
“No, but it’d be entertaining.” Thorpe would have liked to see Phipps eye-to-eye. Then again, it might not be a good idea to have Collins witness the interaction.
“Where to?”
“Back to SID. We’re done for the night; tomorrow we’ll pick up where we left off.”
The drive back to the office was a quiet one. Perhaps anger had clenched her jaw. Thorpe pulled into a space, grabbed his gear bag, told Collins he’d see her tomorrow, and was making his way toward an extra car when her mouth started working again.
“You want to go grab a drink somewhere?”
Oh yeah, he was being played all right; now that her mouth was working, she’d try and loosen his with alcohol and hormones. Pretty solid plan, really.
“No, thanks, I need to let my dogs out before they make a mess of the place.”
“Tomorrow night, then?”
“Sure,” Thorpe relented, as he used a remote to unlock a Ford Mustang convertible.
Collins nodded at the Mustang. “Is that your assigned car?”
Quit with the freaking questions already.
“No, I drive a different car home from time to time…paranoia, remember?”
“How could I forget?”
Thorpe drove out the gate, made the block and parked. Not long after, he spotted Collins exit the lot in her Crown Vic. When she was out of sight, he drove back up the ramp and parked next to his truck. It took him less than two minutes to find a GPS tracker attached to the undercarriage of his assigned pickup. Thorpe left the device where he’d found it and then inspected the Mustang. He couldn’t find a tracker but suspected one would be affixed to all the extra vehicles in SID’s fleet before the end of shift tomorrow.
They were on to him.
Driving home, Thorpe called Jeff.
“What’s up?”
“You still awake?” Thorpe asked.
“Are you kidding me? I’m not going to be getting any sleep.”
“We had a man date, remember? Where you want to meet?” Thorpe knew Jeff wouldn’t be able to go out; he was only giving him hell.
“You can’t be serious. I’m going to be working twenty-hours a day for the rest of my damned life.”
Thorpe laughed. “Relax, man. Hey, you need anything from the store? I’m dropping by your house to check on the little lady.”
“Yeah, pick up some milk. I don’t think I’m going to get off for another ten or twelve hours.”
Not much of a comeback, Thorpe thought. “Okay, maybe we can grab lunch during the week or something.”
“I doubt it, but I’ll give you a shout if I’m able to break away.”
The line went dead.
That was awkward.
Less than five percent of a conversation’s meaning is conveyed through the spoken word. The other ninety-five percent is comprised of time, space, pitch, cadence, body language, facial expressions, eye movement, and so on.
Thorpe couldn’t see Jeff’s face, but the conversation had been littered with red flags. Having picked up the distress codes in Jeff’s speech, Thorpe focused on the words he’d used. First, Jeff had told Thorpe to “pick up some milk.” Jeff detested milk. As a stand-alone statement, it appeared to be a sarcastic response to Thorpe’s jab. But Jeff had gone further, saying he’d be working another ten to twelve hours. “10-12” happened to be the department’s ten-code officers used to inform others they were not alone. Jeff had been cautioning Thorpe that someone was listening in.
Was it as innocuous as a person standing next to Jeff while he spoke or something more alarming, like Jeff suspecting—or knowing—that Thorpe’s line was tapped? Jeff also said he wouldn’t have time to meet for lunch. Everyone makes time to eat.
What was it that his friend knew?
Sunday
February 11
Early morning
THORPE CLOSED THE DOORS ON Deborah’s barn and pulled his gear bag from the trunk of the Mustang. He climbed a set of stairs to an unused apartment loft and retrieved the AR he’d stashed there before going to work. Tonight he’d destroy the parts of the weapon that could provide damning evidence upon examination.
Loaded with equipment, Thorpe stepped out into the dark cold morning. A couple of lights were on inside Deborah’s house, but it looked as if he’d slip away without encountering the woman. Thorpe crossed the gravel road and began trekking through the woods toward the rear of his property. Despite what he’d told Collins, Al and Trixie had been left outside; he hoped to find both animals alive and well.
Thorpe now had several items on long-term loan from SID, including the pair of night-vision goggles he currently wore. He hadn’t signed out any of the equipment, and eventually they’d be discovered missing. He was surprised the high-priced gear hadn’t disappeared before now. The procedures for checking out equipment at the office had always been lax. Officers and supervisors alike could borrow gear in excess of $20,000 a piece without many checks and balances.
Thorpe used the hands-free NVDs to traverse east and slightly north toward the creek that ran behind his house. The temperature hovered a degree or two above freezing. Wet from an afternoon of melting sleet, the soggy foliage allowed Thorpe to travel silently through the woods.
As he picked his way through the trees, he thought about the conversations he’d had with Agent Collins. Something didn’t track with the woman. She’d invited him for drinks, and while he didn’t consider himself unattractive, he was far from irresistible. Given the body language the other agents had shown, he doubted she routinely extended such invitations. Furthermore, he was fairly certain she specialized in offender profiling.