Page 66 of Forged in Steele

“About an hour. Call back then.” The stressed woman hung up.

Jared put the address for the shop into a mapping program on his phone and looked at Bristol. “I’m assuming you want to come with me to talk to Harri.”

She started for the door and called over her shoulder. “Just try to stop me.”

Harri worked in a small repair shop off Highway 99W in Tigard, a suburb of Portland. Under cloudy skies, Jared rushed toward the building that had seen better days, the rusty orange paint flaking in large slivers of color. A truck honked on the busy road.

Stop. Slow down. Don’t lose your situational awareness. Let Bristol catch up.

This man could very well have killed Reya and carried her body into her house. They could be coming to see a distraught ex-husband or a killer, and they both needed to be on high alert.

A tangy beefy aroma saturated the air, mixing with the caustic odor of paint from the body shop. Jared noticed a taco truck in the parking lot with three wooden picnic tables sitting under umbrellas. They’d missed lunch, and Jared’s mouth watered.

Maybe they could catch a snack here to tide him over to dinner at the house with Bristol. They would head over there as if coming home from work.

Jared looked at her when she fell into step beside him. “Let’s get Isaacs to join us at the taco truck. If he wants to run, he’ll have to cross a wide-open space to get to his vehicle.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They entered the lobby area of the business, and the strong smell of paint eliminated the delicious taco smell.

“Help you.” A woman with frizzy gray hair and a face filled with wrinkles eyed them suspiciously.

“We’re here to see Harri.” Jared worked hard to keep his tone light.

“You called just a bit ago.”

“I did.” Jared got out his ID. “Jared Wolfe, FBI. This is Bristol Steele, Multnomah County.”

The woman cocked her head. “What’s he done?”

“Nothing.” Bristol smiled. “We just need to talk to him about a case we’re investigating.”

The woman slid off the stool, grabbing her back with one hand and opening the shop door with the other. An even bigger whiff of the paint odor drifted into the waiting room.

“Harri,” she called out, her tone gruff. “Get yourself in here.”

Thankfully she didn’t tell him the FBI was here to see him. If Harri were prone to running, the guy would have done so before Jared even got a look at him.

He came into the room, wiping his hands with a paper towel. He took a good look at Jared, a longer one at Bristol, running his eyes from head to toe and back up.

“Harri Isaacs?” Jared asked.

“Yeah.” His forehead furrowed. “You cops or something?”

Jared held out his ID and introduced them.

His eyes creased. “This about Darcy? You find the person who killed her?”

“No. Sorry.” Jared jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Could we go sit outside for a minute?”

Harri looked at the woman.

“Go,” she said. “But that Explorer isn’t gonna paint itself so make it quick.”

Jared held the door, and Bristol stepped out. They kept Harri between them as they strolled down to the taco truck.

“Food any good here?” Bristol asked.

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