Quinn put his arm around her. “I know.”
She relaxed in this rare moment of affection from him.
“So what color?” he asked, moving down the row. “How about red?”
“Oh, my word, what has gotten into you today?”
He laughed. “Okay. Green? White?”
“Not white, though it is practical.”
They walked down the next row. “These are all so shiny.”
“Can I help you today?” a woman’s voice called from behind them.
Cassidy and Quinn both turned. A fifty-something saleswoman in a skirt suit and black pumps stood smiling at them. Her straw-colored hair was curled under at the ends that brushed her shoulders and her blue eyes exuded a warmth that Cassidy fell for in an instant.
“I’m looking for a truck,” Cassidy said. “Blue if you have it.”
The saleswoman’s soft, round face broadened into a smile. “Right this way.”
An hour later, after test driving two different trucks and a SUV to appease Quinn, she was leafing through the paperwork inside the office Annette—the blonde saleswoman—shared with one other sales rep.
She had decided against blue—the current shade was way too bright—but the silver was growing on her. Quinn and another sales rep were talking motorcycles in the showroom when Cassidy stepped out to call Rodney, their financial advisor. She had already texted him earlier, explaining her need.
“How are you, Cassidy?”
She pictured him in his tailored suit behind his broad desk. “I need wheels, Rodney,” she said with a grin.
“Indeed,” Rodney replied in his pert, crisp voice. “Do you have the total?”
She read the number scrawled on the Post-it note Annette had given her.
“Okay, I can transfer that to your account today. It will likely take twenty-four hours.”
“That’s fine,” she said, knowing that she wouldn’t be leaving until their role in the case was over.
He asked her about her new job, reminding her to forward any tax-related documents.
“Oh, hey, before you go,” she said, as a sudden thought came into her mind, “I have a weird question for you. Does the name Preston Ford mean anything to you?”
“The media tycoon? Of course.”
“But do you know if he and Dad were connected somehow? Like in business?”
She had searched for “Preston Ford” and “Seattle” to see if she could find the connection, but had found nothing. As far as what events happening that day, the list was huge. She needed to narrow it down.
“It makes sense that their businesses would align, but Ethan never mentioned Mr. Ford to me.”
Cassidy strolled into the shade of the building. “Did Dad support any nonprofits?”
She heard the squeak of Rodney’s desk chair. “Yes, several.”
“Do you know the names?”
“Well, let me think,” Rodney murmured. “I know the Special Olympics was a big one. And I believe Pamela and he contributed to Water for All. There was that big auction every spring. There were others, but I don’t remember them.”
Preston Ford didn’t seem like the kind of person to support either of those causes. “Could you look them up?”
“May I ask why?”
Cassidy tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and squinted at the rows and rows of sparkling-bright cars lined up on the lot. “Just curious.”
“I can get this to you by the end of the day, will that do?”
“Yes, thanks.”
She hung up and stepped back into the showroom, searching for Annette, but Quinn caught her eye first. He broke away from the sales rep he was talking to, an excited look on his face as he hurried over.
He flashed the screen of his phone. There was a message from Bo:
Quick favor to ask. Meet at Drift?
Twenty
Cassidy walked side by side with Quinn down the hallway behind Special Agent Santiago and into the conference room, her breathing fast in her chest. This was it, the moment everything could change.
“Okay, we’ll make this quick,” Special Agent Harris said, on her feet as if she’d been pacing behind the oval table. Today she was dressed in pale blue slacks and a white button-down shirt, her blonde hair pulled back in a simple ponytail at the nape of her neck, a set of tiny blue earrings sparkling in the light.
“Where’s Bruce?” Cassidy asked.
“Special Agent Keolani will be here soon,” Special Agent Harris said. “We needed him to follow up on a new lead.”
Cassidy reeled in her disappointment. Though she recognized that Bruce was an agent who took orders from his superiors and had little control over his assignments, couldn’t he have been here for this?
“We have the recording devices in place, but I want you wearing a wire in case he moves somewhere else for the exchange,” Special Agent Harris said on an exhale. “Do whatever you can to draw out exactly what he’s proposing. With the way he put it as a favor, he’s likely going to ask you to take cash and add it to your nightly deposit. He’ll likely tell you a story that sounds legit.”
Special Agent Santiago got to work adding a body recorder to Quinn’s torso.
“Should I play hard to get or agree?” Quinn asked.
“Make him work for it,” Special Agent Harris said. “He’s expecting that.”
Quinn nodded. Special Agent Santiago tested the recorder, then, apparently satisfied, he nodded at Special Agent Harris.
“All right, everyone, we’re ready,” Special Agent Harris said.
“What happens after?” Cassidy asked. “I mean, say you nab Bo, where will you take him? What happens to Quinn?”
Special Agent Harris and Santiago exchanged a look.
“They have to arrest me,” Quinn said.
“What?” Cassidy cried.
“It has to look like I’m guilty, too, or he’ll know I set him up.”
Cassidy pleaded with her eyes. No, she told him. This isn’t what I signed up for.
“He won’t be charged,” Special Agent Harris said.
“But you’re going to take him in like he will be!” Cassidy said, glaring at Special Agent Harris. “Isn’t there some other way?”
“It’s not like it is on TV. We won’t be dragging him. The press won’t be there,” Special Agent Harris said, her hands on her hips.
“It’s okay, Cass,” Quinn said, gripping her shoulders. “I knew this going in.”
“I didn’t!” she said, desperate
