“Morning,” Brigid said, looking at the agent. Malcolm was a former cop, an undercover specialist, and a decent guy. He had dark hair, sharp eyes, and was as tall as Raider. He’d recently solved a case and fallen in love with the woman he was supposed to investigate. “How’s Pippa doing?” Brigid had enjoyed getting to know the quiet woman while they’d painted the offices the previous week, and had barely kept herself from calling Pippa for support after the panic attack earlier.

“Good,” Malcolm said, his eyes softening. “She’s been out a lot lately and needs some downtime at home. Away from people.”

“It’s a good idea,” Nari said, moving closer, her boots alive on the worn concrete. “With her anxiety disorder, she’s doing the right thing in giving herself time alone. She’s managing very well.”

“Plus”—Wolfe smiled as the kitten rubbed against his chin—“if Pippa is home, she’s probably doing some baking while working on the Internet. I’m expecting cookies or pie tomorrow, Mal.” The kitten nipped at his ear and batted at his cheekbone, perfectly content on the big soldier’s shoulder.

Brigid nodded. “Those sugar doodles she made last week were amazing.” The woman could really bake.

Malcolm grinned before he turned and headed for the elevators. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Wolfe followed him. “Maybe I’ll come with you. I’m free this morning since the police picked up the dentist Dana busted. Did you read her article? It’ll be in the print edition today.” He kept talking as they walked onto the terrible elevator and the doors finally closed.

Angus Force poked his head out of the case room. “Are we getting to work, or what?” His short dark hair was ruffled, and his eyes were bloodshot. Had he been up all night?

Raider gave her a look and strode toward the room, gingerly sipping his latte.

Brigid liked the sugar. She followed him into the room and took a seat at the dented conference table, careful not to snag her shirt on the top’s wooden slivers. Angus had pulled down a yellowed screen in front of the whiteboard, and he moved to the head of the table, where a laptop had been set up.

Raider sat on her left, and Nari took the seat at the other end of the table from Angus. As usual.

Brigid looked around. “Hey. Where’s Roscoe?”

Nari’s nostrils flared. “Grounded in my office. He ate my best lipstick yesterday.”

Brigid bit back a smile. Being grounded in the shrink’s office meant Roscoe was sleeping on a cushy bed in the corner with doggie treats and a bowl of water nearby. Poor dog. It was nice to be around animals again. Sometimes she missed the farm so badly, the pain felt physical.

“I told you not to leave makeup or booze around,” Angus muttered, setting his hands on the keyboard.