He’d grabbed his raincoat, which was now in the back seat along with two brand-new walking poles that he’d bought his mother for Christmas but had forgotten to give her.

They worked well as walking aids, which was good as Yael’s boots weren’t as grippy as he’d like, and could double as weapons. He was carrying his favorite SIG and a few magazines of ammo in his pockets. He had a backup strapped to his ankle and never went anywhere without his tactical knife and another slim blade hidden on his person.

Yael yawned again and he suspected she’d worked most of last night uncovering this lead.

Exactly how much time did she spend at her computer? Though he was hardly one to talk. He’d told her he was married to his job and hadn’t lied. After leaving the Green Berets he’d worried he’d never find that same kind of soul-satisfying career in the civilian world. But working for the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team was even better than being in the Army. They not only shot at hostiles, they also arrested them. Shane didn’t think there was a better job in the entire universe and he had no intention of jeopardizing his position. However, sitting in a room staring at a computer screen when they had a credible lead on a suspect wasn’t something he could deal with either. He was part of the best trained unit of federal law enforcement agents in the US, if not the world, and he wasn’t ignoring a potential clue.

Not if it meant Scotty’s killers escaping justice.

The landscape whizzed by, growing more and more rural from suburbs to farmland. He kept his speed a little over the limit, not enough to get stopped by traffic cops, but enough to get where they were going as quickly as possible. He didn’t want to draw attention by using lights or sirens. He couldn’t be certain this Zenko guy didn’t have friends or relatives on the local police force.

Yael was doing research on her laptop. Looking for more background information. She hadn’t said a word since they’d left town. She’d withdrawn again and he felt as if he was losing ground without even opening his mouth. He’d sensed a brief thawing in relations earlier but maybe he’d imagined it.

It was harder to fake cheerfulness than usual. Maybe that was the problem. She could sense his inner destruction and wanted no part of his misery.

He cleared his throat. “So, where are you from, originally?”

“All over the place. Colorado mainly, I guess. You?”

He watched her fingers clench in her lap.

She didn’t like to talk about herself. She deflected constantly. Nerves or something to hide?

“Georgia, but I suspect you already know that.”

She flashed him a guilty look.