Stolen Child (Coastal Fury Book 13) - Matt Lincoln (ebook reader library .txt) 📗

“Why couldn’t I?” he asked with a shrug. “I was in the Marines. I’ve got all the skills you have, plus my FBI training. And all the resources of the FBI.”

“You have all the resources of the FBI?” Muñoz asked, arching a skeptical eyebrow at him, a satisfying lopsided smirk of her own etched across the right side of her face.

Smith blinked and just glowered at her before doubling down on one of his other points.

“You know what I mean,” he said with a small laugh that I guess was meant to taunt her more but just made her raise her eyebrows even higher. “Anyway, I asked you first. What can you do that we can’t?”

“Uh, we know all about the sea,” Muñoz said, in a tone that said this should be obvious. “And who sails it, and why, and what benefit they get from it. We know all about the criminal politics on the water, and on the islands, and alongside the shore. We’ve built relationships in these communities, and we have knowledge that goes a long way when we get there. You’re just a bureaucrat in a suit with an attitude problem.”

Alright, maybe we should’ve shut Muñoz up along with Holm. But that was fun to watch. As she spoke, Smith’s face fell until he looked just as sullen as Hunt, and there was a long period of silence after that in which we could’ve heard a pin drop.

I gave Muñoz an approving look, though I didn’t love that she’d insulted Smith, most likely escalating tensions between our two groups even further. That said, he’d asked for it. There was no denying that. It was satisfying to watch.

“I think that settles matters,” Corey said at long last, nodding slowly. “We all need each other. Each of us has something of value to add. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here, and we’d all do well to try to work together better.”

Holm grumbled something about him not needing to work together better, and Smith being the cause of all this, and then something else about coffee, but I couldn’t make much of it out. This was probably for the best, since if I couldn’t hear him properly, no one else could, either.

“That’s right,” I told Corey with a grateful nod, after giving Holm the side-eye in a warning. “We need each other. We need your resources and knowledge of international affairs and agencies, and you need our expertise and knowledge of the case itself. I get that things are getting pretty claustrophobic around here—and I know we’re all feeling it, so don’t try to convince me otherwise…”

Everyone nodded and mumbled in agreement.

“Well, there’s something we can agree on, at least,” Forrester chuckled, and we all laughed.

“Right, so we just have to get through this thing,” I continued. “It’s going to be close quarters for a while, and I know none of us are happy about all this mess with Interpol and Scotland. We all want to be headed out there as we speak. But that’s not happening, so as Diane said, we just need to sit tight and see this thing through. If we work together, we’re more likely to break this thing.”

“If we ever even get the chance to work it,” Holm grumbled. “Interpol could solve the case on their own, for all we know.”

My stomach dropped a bit at this suggestion. I didn’t like that thought at all, and I hadn’t really considered it before. It just seemed like a foregone conclusion to me that after going through all this trouble with the Hollands, Holm and I would be there when push came to shove and we finally caught the couple.

That might not be the case anymore, though. We were in a whole different ballgame now.

“Come now, that’s no way to talk,” Birn said brightly, standing up and grinning at us all. “This is just a bump in the road and not a bad one at that. We have a real lead! Let’s enjoy that, even if we’re not the ones following up on it just yet. In the meantime, I have to get the hell out of this place for a little while, or I’ll lose my mind. Anyone up for a late breakfast?”

5

Ethan

Holm, myself, and Muñoz all ended up joining Birn for that breakfast, leaving the FBI agents alone in the office with Diane.

“Do we really want to leave them alone in there?” Holm grumbled for about the tenth time as Birn pulled us into a seedy diner parking lot.

“Oh, will you stop it already,” Muñoz groaned from the front seat. “Just chill out. It’s fine. What do you think they’re going to do, burn the place down? Stage a hostile takeover of our office? Give me a break. Honestly, Holm, even for you.”

That shut him up, and I chuckled and shook my head as we climbed out of the backseat and followed Birn and Muñoz into the diner.

I’d had a quick bowl of instant oatmeal before going into work, but with my tiresome schedule lately and the lack of flavor and heartiness that accompanied that meal, I was looking forward to getting a real sit down for once, as well as being away from the FBI agents and getting to steal a moment with just my MBLIS colleagues.

I’d never been to this particular diner before. It was an unassuming place, tucked away on the outskirts of town, away from all the major tourist spots. If I were honest, it looked pretty dingy to me, but my already-grumbling stomach and I kept an open mind.

“What is this place?” Holm asked as Birn and Muñoz climbed into a booth next to a long window facing the parking lot. My partner and I sat down opposite them.

“We come here all the time,” Birn said, gesturing between himself and Muñoz. “My cousin Buddy owns the place.”

“Really?” I asked, intrigued. I hadn’t heard Birn mention a cousin before who was here in town.

“It’s the best-kept secret