Page 12 of Armed ’N’ Ready

“Not a wiretap,” Cox said. “We have blanket authorization from the U.S. Attorney’s Office to monitor and record any conversations for this investigation. All we need from you is your consent to utilize your phone to do it.”

Sgt. Houston pulled her phone from his thigh pocket but didn’t hand it to her. Until that moment she hadn’t known he’d taken it from the bedroom.

“Fine. I consent.” She held out her hand, but Houston ignored her.

“What’s the passcode?” One of his fingers hovered over the phone.

She narrowed her eyes. “What if I don’t want to give it to you?”

Houston pursed his lips, emphasizing the concavity of his lean cheeks. “If you cooperate and give us the code, you stand a significantly greater chance of getting it back sooner, rather than later. Much later.”

Reluctantly, she rattled off the code and watched him enter it before handing the phone to her. The pink case was still warm from being against his leg. “Can I tell him about the search warrant?” she asked.

“Yes.” Houston nodded. “If he answers, ask him where he is, then try to convince him to come home. If he doesn’t answer, leave a message that it’s urgent he calls you back.”

After pulling up Joe’s cell number from her contacts, she was about to make the call but hesitated when Cox clicked a button on a small digital recorder and set it on the table in front of her. A tiny red light glowed steadily on the top of the device. “Are you going to arrest him?”

Houston didn’t hesitate. “Eventually, yes.”

She held his gaze for a moment. The thought of Joe—her former lover and friend—in handcuffs was positively frightening. Please let this be the right thing to do.

Taking a deep breath, she touched the call button, then the phone’s speaker button. It went directly to voicemail, and she found herself somewhat relieved. She let the message play out, then left word about the search warrant and that he should call her urgently. She ended the call, but before she could pocket the phone, Sgt. Houston smoothly took it away.

“Hey, give that back!” She jumped up and made a grab for it, plowing into his chest—a chest so hard she bounced off him and practically fell right back into the chair she’d been sitting on.

“No can do.” He extended his long arm and handed the phone across the table to the baby-faced agent, who slipped it into a clear plastic bag. “This phone is now evidence.”

“I don’t understand.” She shook her head. “That phone is mine, not Joe’s, and it has nothing to do with his business dealings.”

“The phone was located on the premises during service of a federal search warrant.” Cox pointed to the warrant. “You’ll get the phone back, but it will probably be months before we can return it to you. Right now, it’s seizable pursuant to Attachment A, paragraph eight, describing cell phones and computers.”

“Speaking of which,” Houston interjected, again towering over her, “does Myer have a laptop?”

“Yes.” She frowned. In addition to his expensive house and car, he’d been inordinately proud of his brand-new, lightweight Mac Air.

“We didn’t find it here or at his office. Did he hide it somewhere on the premises?”

“No. I don’t know. At least, I don’t think so.” Again, she twisted her hands together. “He never used to hide his computer.” Or anything else, for that matter.

“Do you and he send emails to each other?” When she nodded, Cox slid his pad to her, handing her a pen. “Write down your full email address and his.”

She did, knowing they could pull that information off her phone, anyway. If she gave it to them outright, maybe she’d get the phone back sooner.

“Found something.” Officer Malloy handed Cox a stack of envelopes, cash, and several sheets of paper stapled together. “We found cash in the safe, and these envelopes in the locked mailbox. The envelopes are loaded with more cash.”

“Did you count it yet?” Houston asked.

Malloy pulled a piece of paper from her vest pocket. “Thirty grand, total.”

What is Joe doing with that much cash? They both knew that any cash not in a bank was lazy money because it wasn’t earning interest.

Cox handed the bills to the baby-faced agent, then began flipping through the other documents. The only words Andi had been able to make out were in a large font on the first page: Last Will and Testament.

He looked up from reading. “Is your real name really Andromeda Hardt?”

She nodded, a little embarrassed by the celestial name her astronomy-loving parents had seen fit to bestow upon her at birth. “Too many syllables. Everyone calls me Andi.”

“Understandable.” Sgt. Houston smiled, making him appear only slightly less serious. As a distraction, she tried visualizing what a genuine smile would do to his chiseled-from-rock face.