Page 8 of A Very Un-Shakespeare Romance
Her partner was quiet for a long moment before clicking off the phone and saying, “We’re to follow O’Connor and not blink our eyes once. So we won’t lose him like we did our last suspect. Like a pathetic rookie who doesn’t know his ass from the FBI handbook.”
Lily swallowed thickly. “Terrific. If we mess this up, Buck will transfer us out, and we’ll be lucky to land in an FBI office in Mobile—”
“Or El Paso.” Sheila cranked up the air-conditioning and fanned herself. “You know how much I hate hot weather.”
“I’ll send you a fan,” Lily remarked as she followed Robbie O’Connor onto I-93. “Where is he going, do you think?”
“This certainly isn’t the way to his precinct.” Sheila rubbed her hands together. “So I’m hopeful we’re about to pull in a bigger fish for Buck.”
“You’re so pessimistic about people.” Lily made sure to keep ten cars back, but she kept her eyes peeled.
“I know, and I love that about me. Better to be surprised than devastated. Or dead, for that matter.”
Sheila had been shot at, but then again, she’d been in the FBI longer than Lily and had worked in Phoenix, Dallas, and Cleveland before Boston. Lily had only been in Sacramento and Tampa before.
“Okay, you win with the death card.” Lily rolled her shoulders. “Do you think he’s leaving the state?”
Sheila cracked her knuckles. “If he does, that shoots this whole thing to another level. Can you see your promotion papers in your hands now, Sunshine?”
“Are you going to sing the song? Because with your pipes, it makes me feel all special inside.”
“Ah, that makes me want to sing real bad.” Sheila stretched her feet out, kicking pistachio shells under her seat. “But I won’t start singing the song until we take in Lieutenant O’Connor.”
“I’m so hurt.” Lily grabbed the volume dial for the stereo and turned it up, pleased Beyoncé was playing on one of their shared Spotify playlists. FBI agents got along best when they were in agreement about a number of things, music in the car being of top importance.
She followed as O’Connor took exit 7 for MA-3 S toward Cape Cod. Sheila cracked more pistachios, crunching as Sia sang about swinging from chandeliers. Lily had a practical side that always cringed from that one. She preferred rope if she was climbing.
They seemed to be on the MA-3 forever when he finally took the exit toward Smith Lane.
“Where is he going?” she mused aloud.
“No clue, but I’m glad you insisted we fill up the tank this morning.”
“I always prefer having a full tank when we’re conducting surveillance.”
Sheila smirked. “Being Miss Prepared and all.”
“No, my training officer told a story about running out of gas once when the suspect they were surveilling took off. They couldn’t stop for gas, and he went farther than expected. They lost him when they ran out. It stuck with me.”
“That sucks, but nice to know our fellow officers have their bad days. Like we did today. It happens.”
“That error was probably why he was my training officer, Sheila,” Lily reasoned. “Wait! He’s turning.”
“Slow down. You don’t want him to spot you.”
“He won’t.” She took her foot off the gas, slowing her speed rapidly, but then she spotted the sign, her insides pinging. “Oh my God! He’s taking them to Maziply Toys.”
“What’s that? A fancy sex shop?”
She blew a raspberry. “New England’s largest toy store, supposedly,” she told her. “I heard one of the agents say he’d taken his kids there.”
“So he’s playing the part of a good cousin, huh?” Sheila threw more shells on the floor. “I don’t buy it.”
Lily parked well away from Lieutenant O’Connor but kept the engine running in case this was a ruse and he’d only stopped because he’d spotted her. Moments later, he was stepping out of the driver’s seat, though, opening the back and plucking out Cassidy, who was still holding her adorable teddy bear. Then Reagan got out and took his hand, and they walked into the toy store like old friends.
“Hmm…” Sheila crossed her ankles. “Bribes for the kids for a long car trip?”
She shook her head. The endless speculation was part of being an FBI officer. She’d turned on some inner question fountain at Quantico, and since then, she’d asked more questions than any normal person alive. In fact, she was pretty sure that if she logged her annual questions number, she could go in the Guinness Book of World Records.
