Sam waved him off. “I’ll do it on my own time and my own dime.” Her phone rang and she removed it from her pocket to check the caller ID. “It’s Hill.”

“Take the call and get him over here,” Malone said.

“Hi, Avery.”

“You want to tell me why you people are looking for my director’s son?”

“Come over to my dad’s, and I’ll tell you why.”

Unprepared for her easy capitulation, Hill said, “Oh, um... Okay. I’ll be there in ten.”

Sam slapped the phone closed. “He’s on his way.”

“Is this going to blow up in our faces, Jake?” Skip asked, speaking of the department—as he always did—as if he were still an active member.

“It all depends on how quickly we can locate Josh and what Hamilton does when he finds out we’ve got him in custody.”

“He took off without his wallet or any of his stuff,” Sam said. “He does have his phone, though.”

“Then he won’t get far,” Malone said. “We need to figure out who his friends are and who he might go to for help.”

“From what he told us, he’s not really close to his family,” Sam said.

“How about colleagues?”

“He worked for VA. I can try to find out where and see if I can talk to some of the people he worked with.”

“On your own time, of course,” Malone said.

“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of doing anything on the department’s time while serving out my suspension.”

Malone grunted out a laugh. “Sure you wouldn’t.”

“Is he insulting me?” Sam asked her father. “I think he’s insulting me.”

“He’s speaking the truth, baby girl.”

Sam scowled playfully at her father. “I expect better from you than that.”

“A few more hours in the woodshed might’ve been time well spent with this one, Skip,” Malone said, using his thumb to point at Sam.

“She came out this way. I did what I could with her.”

Sam was saved the bother of coming up with a witty retort to that when Avery Hill came into the room, looking pissed off. “That was quick.” Though she had absolutely no interest in him whatsoever, she was struck nonetheless by how incredibly good-looking the agent was, especially when wearing well-faded denim, a navy-blue sweater and black ski jacket. His golden-brown hair was windblown and his face red from the cold.

“I was at Eastern Market with Shelby when I got a text from one of my people saying you guys issued an APB for the director’s son. You want to tell me what that’s about?”

“Where’s Shelby?”

“In the car.”

“Tell her to come in!” Sam said. “She can’t sit in the cold.”

“She’s fine. The heat is on, and she’s talking to her sister on the phone.”