By Judith E. French
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Extra info for Blood Sport
The last thing he remembered eating was a burger and fries sometime around midnight. Now, it was way past lunchtime and his stomach was protesting. Maxwell had originally intended to fly in to Baltimore from her home in San Francisco on Thursday, but she’d called earlier in the week to ask him to meet her here in Charleston. Tess D’Angelo’s murder wasn’t a Bureau case—simply an exchange of information between local authorities and the agency. He wasn’t certain why Maxwell was so interested in what appeared to be a routine homicide, but upper management had been clear.
Genuine. “Since you’re leveling with me, I’ll give you the same benefit. I back my partners, so long as I agree with what they’re doing. If I have a problem with you, I’ll tell you straight out. And I expect the same from you. ” She met his gaze. ” “No, I’m not, but I’ll follow your lead. We’ll look into it. Play out your hunch. ” He reached for his wineglass. She had a sense of humor to go with her brain, and he felt a definite chemistry between them. He wondered if she’d ask him up to her room when they got back to the hotel.
She shook her head. ” “Not much there, according to Detective Williams. Lonely dead-end marsh. No houses or businesses. ” “I still want to view the scene,” she insisted. “You’re the boss. ” “I never said that. ” Her eyes narrowed. “Do I suspect he could be involved? ” She put on her sunglasses. “Let’s not waste time. ” Reed stifled a groan. His empty stomach would have to wait a while longer. “All right, we’ll check out the crime scene. ” He indicated the big vehicle parked in the visitors’ section.
Blood Sport by Judith E. French