Page 91 of Lethal Danger

She hadn’t remarked on anything. Hadn’t given Jazz a clue to what she was thinking.

But Jazz was sure she was thinking. A lot. She just didn’t like Jazz well enough to tell her anything.

That made two of them. Jazz didn’t trust Phoenix either.

So they walked the fairgrounds in silence for most of the time.

Jazz checked her watch as they took the curve of the main path that led to another section of rides.

Flash’s panting sounded loudly next to Jazz, thanks to the absence of the usual fair noises.

The music from the rides had ended about thirty minutes ago when the operators started closing them down for the night.

The attendees of the country music concert had left around that time, as well. They should all be out by now, though they wouldn’t have been in this sector of the grounds anyway.

Dag kept his mouth closed at Phoenix’s side. Probably not allowed to pant like normal dogs or he’d ruin the mystery.

Jazz stifled a chuckle at her own joke. She kept her gaze moving at the same time, not about to be caught slacking by the boss.

Phoenix set a steady pace, slightly quicker than Jazz’s usual patrol speed but not too fast. The woman’s posture had stayed confident and strong, not showing a moment of tiring after two hours of walking.

Jazz had expected nothing less. She couldn’t deny Phoenix was in perfect physical shape. Toned and slim without an ounce of weakness or softness aside from her feminine curves. Jazz had wondered more than once what Phoenix did for workouts. But she wasn’t about to ask a personal question of the boss.

She could ask the question that had been burning on her tongue all night. The boss wouldn’t object to her wanting to know information that could help their investigation, would she?

Jazz took a breath and risked it. “Did Cora find anything on Sam Ackerman’s father?”

Phoenix didn’t so much as glance her way or pause her movement, clearly not as startled as Jazz was that she’d initiated conversation. “Gary Ackerman. Fifty-one. Caucasian, brown on brown. Location unknown.”

“She can’t find him?” Surprise lifted Jazz’s voice. Cora could usually find people within hours.

“Not yet.” Phoenix seemed to increase the pace as she talked, still not looking at Jazz, her head slowly rotating side to side as she scanned the surroundings. “He ended a lease on an apartment in Wisconsin three months ago. The last use of his credit card. No trail since.”

“Oh. Too bad.”

“We’ll find him.” Phoenix’s trademark confidence. Nothing seemed to shake her certainty about everything. An admirable quality if it wasn’t so unnerving. And suspicious. As if she’d figured out a way to rig life. To cheat it.

“Cora learned Desmond Patch has a criminal history.”

Jazz cut Phoenix a look to see if she’d been reading Jazz’s mind.

The boss kept her gaze moving, checking for threats without a pause or indication of anything amiss. “He was arrested for vandalism as a college student during a protest rally. He was an active member of the Students for the Environment Society.”

The radical environmental group that had spawned the Twin Cities river dam bomber that Bristol and PK-9 had caught before Jazz joined the agency. Yikes. “So he’s probably not a peaceful pacifist like he claims.” Which would totally fit what Hawthorne had told Jazz about the cult leader.

“He’s a viable suspect for the sabotage and your aunt’s death. He’s taken credit for violence in the past, when he felt it was for a worthy cause.”

Jazz would need to tell Hawthorne as soon as she could. They’d bumped into him earlier on patrol, but their conversation had been brief. Jazz didn’t blame him for not wanting to stick around with Phoenix eyeing him in her intimidating way from under the bill of her charcoal cap.

A rumble interrupted her thoughts. Dag.

Flash almost instantly added his own growl.

Jazz peered in the direction of their gazes.

A tree and grass.

Phoenix picked up her pace, her attention locked somewhere ahead and to the right.

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