Luke's gaze traveled from the files in front of him back to Lin's face. Her tight-lipped expression showed she was not happy, but he was not sure of the cause. She's pissed to call in a private investigation firm? She's pissed because the FBI missed out on a possible case by ignoring it to begin with? Feels guilty because a man, who obviously knew something about something, is now dead? Stifling a sigh, Luke knew he was much more comfortable with the computer aspect of investigating. Reading people was never my strong suit!
Relying on Monty's experience with the Bureau, he watched as Monty peppered the agent with more questions and noticed as Lin's grimace became more pronounced.
"Gentlemen," she bit out, "I'll be honest. I had no desire to bring in an outside company to assist with the investigation, but I was overruled. And, quite frankly, we are taxed to the max right now. My part of this case is to try to solve the murder of Eli Frederick. My time is limited due to also being assigned to certain security details with the Chinese Embassy." Piercing them with a cold glare, she added, "There are few agents of Asian descent, and fewer who speak Chinese, so I have now been thrust into a role there. So while I'd prefer not to have to deal with an outside investigation business, we need to know what Eli wanted to meet about. That will be your part of the equation."
"You don't think the two are interrelated? His contact with the FBI and his murder?" Luke queried.
"I'm sure they are, but it's my understanding that you have the ability to dig into his situation more than I can right now."
Nodding, Luke agreed. As the meeting came to a close, the participants stood, shaking hands as they filed out of the room. The Saints did not speak until they were out of the building. Patrick took a nonchalant walk around the car, a small piece of equipment in his hand, before he gave an almost imperceptible nod to the others.
Once inside, he reported, "No bugs."
"Monty," Luke began, "you gotta tell me what you thought, because working with Lin will be nothing like working with Mitch."
"Mitch was special," Monty agreed, thinking back to the efficient, but easy-to-work-with agent. "This lady's got an axe to grind and I don't know what it is yet. But I intend to find out."
"What does your gut tell you?" Patrick asked. "I thought she acted like a lot of women officers in the Army … where they have to be extra tough to make sure they survive."
Nodding, Monty agreed. "It's hard, sometimes, for a woman in a predominately man's field … and the Bureau can be brutal. Still very much an old-boys-network kind of workplace. And she is right, there are precious few Asian agents."
"So she has to present the right attitude?"
"Could be. Could just be that she doesn't like working with an outside group. Could be that she's getting pressure from above to close out the case. Could have been implied that she can't handle it. Who knows?"
An hour and a half later, as they drove back into Charlestown, Luke looked at the clock on the dashboard as he told Monty to drop him off at his house. Turning onto Luke's street, the SUV swerved as Monty cursed, "Damn Vespa! They shouldn't be out here on the roads!"
"College towns are full of bikes and Vespas," Patrick commented. "It was the same in California."
Luke looked into his side view mirror, seeing a lone figure riding a small Vespa. "Must be the best way to get around for a poor college student," he surmised before his attention re-focused on the case again as Monty pulled into his driveway.
As Luke stepped out of the SUV, he turned back and said, "I'll spend this afternoon digging into Eli Frederick. Chances are, I'll get a lot further than the FBI. We can meet tomorrow at Jack's and go over what I find."
With a wave, he watched as the two Saints threw their hands up in salute before turning to head into his house.
Once inside, Luke walked into his kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Cold pizza. Leftover lasagna. And a container of … hmmm, not sure. Closing the door with more force than necessary, he grabbed his keys and headed back out. Within a few minutes, he sat at the counter of a local diner, thankfully almost empty since the lunch crowd had thinned.
He was almost finished gulping his burger and fries as the bell jingled over the door. A woman walked in, a riot of red curls framing her face. As she turned toward him, she smiled as she strolled by. Purple glasses, along with her curls, partially hid her face making it difficult to get a clear look at her. Wearing fitted jeans that did not appear painted on, and a green short-sleeved sweater, she sat at the counter two seats from him and ordered a cup of coffee. He watched as she slowly turned toward him, smiling once more.