Locked, Loaded And Sealed. Carol Ericson

course, the rescue of Dr. Fazal was no longer classified, and if anyone had a right to know about Dr. Fazal’s past, Sophia did. Maybe she already knew. All their intel on Fazal and Sophia indicated that the two had grown close.

      “What did Fazal tell you about his past before coming to the US?”

      Sophia bit her bottom lip as the waitress approached the table. “Now, what can I get you?”

      “I’ll have a beer—whatever you have on tap.”

      “Club soda with lime for me.”

      The waitress left, and Sophia leaned toward him over the table. “I only know that his wife and two daughters died in a terrorist bombing in Islamabad. The US government resettled him here for safety, but then you know that already. You claim to know more than I do, so you’d better start spilling or I’m calling my new best friends at the Boston PD.”

      Austin squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. If he’d thought handling Sophia Grant would be easy, he’d been completely mistaken. She’d probably catch him out in a lie in about two seconds, too. Were there any girls back home like this? If so, he’d never run into one, and given the size of White Bluff, Wyoming, he’d run into all of the women.

      “Okay.” He ran a hand across the top of his head, his hair still short from active duty. “Dr. Fazal helped out the US military, helped us nail a wanted terrorist hiding in the area. His life wasn’t worth much in Islamabad after that, so we hustled him out of Pakistan.”

      She nodded. “That doesn’t surprise me. I figured there was more to his story.”

      Nothing seemed to surprise this surprising woman. “We settled him in Boston. You know he went to medical school here?”

      “Yes.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “Were you one of the guys who helped rescue him?”

      “Uh-huh.”

      The waitress delivered their drinks and Austin held his up. “To Dr. Fazal.”

      Sophia clinked her glass with his. “To Dr. Fazal.”

      She took a sip of her drink and laced her fingers around the glass mug. “What were you doing here at the precise moment he got murdered?”

      Austin ground his back teeth together and took a bigger swig of beer than he’d intended. He gulped it down. “He’d contacted us a few weeks back, said he was being watched, followed.”

      “So that’s why he’d been agitated.”

      “Was he?”

      “For the past several days—distracted, even curt with me, which was unusual.”

      “After his initial contact, we didn’t hear from him again. I guess he thought we could help him, but I was too late.” His hand curled into a fist on the table.

      “D-do you think that’s it? The people he betrayed in Pakistan wanted revenge?”

      “That’s what it looks like on the surface, but it’s hard for me to swallow that they’d go to all this trouble to get to him. The main guy he betrayed is dead. Were his followers that loyal to track Fazal to the US and murder him here? That’s taking a huge chance on their part, and how did they even get into the country if they’re on a no-fly list?”

      “You’re asking me? I’m just a physical therapist in training. You’re the—” she waved her hand at him “—navy guy. What is a US military man doing operating on domestic soil, anyway?”

      “This is strictly under the radar.”

      “That’s the reason for all the cloak-and-dagger stuff? You’re lucky I didn’t scream bloody murder and run back to tell the cops a man had broken into my car and had been lying in wait for me.”

      “Some of it’s luck.”

      “Some?” She raised her dark brows as she took a drink from her glass.

      He shrugged. “We had a little intel on you. I didn’t figure you for the screaming type.”

      “That’s creepy.” She swallowed. “The government can just spy on anyone these days. Is that it?”

      “I wouldn’t call it spying.”

      “I would.” She flipped her black hair over one shoulder. “So, what do you want from me? I can’t give you any more information about Dr. Fazal than I gave the police.”

      “The Boston PD thinks he may have committed suicide. Now I just gave you this other info about Dr. Fazal. Does this change your view of what was going on with him?”

      “He never said anything to me about it, but his killers were definitely searching for something in the office.”

      “That worries me, makes me think this is about more than revenge.”

      “What could they have been looking for? Dr. Fazal already gave up what he knew about the terrorist in Islamabad, right?”

      “Maybe he had more information that he didn’t even tell us.” He grabbed a plastic menu from the end of the table. “Are you hungry? The waitress didn’t make us order anything, but you probably haven’t had dinner.”

      “I’m not hungry.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “My date.”

      “You had a date tonight?” Of course she did. An attractive, vibrant woman like Sophia Grant wouldn’t be sitting at home alone on Friday night.

      “I did. I was supposed to meet him downtown.”

      “Give him a call. Is there still time?”

      “I don’t have his phone number, and he doesn’t have mine, thank goodness, or he would’ve been calling me.”

      “That’s a weird date.” He drew his brows together. At least this guy wasn’t her fiancé or the love of her life if they didn’t even have each other’s phone numbers.

      “It was a date on Spark.”

      “Spark?”

      “Where’ve you been, Islamabad?” She tapped her cell phone. “It’s a dating app.”

      “Is that safe?”

      “Safer than this.” She drew a circle in the air above their table.

      “Got me there.” He shoved the menu aside and finished his beer. “You’ll let me know if anything unusual happens, won’t you?”

      “Yes, but shouldn’t I tell the police, too?”

      “Of course, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention our meeting. I’m not supposed to be here, not supposed to be investigating this.”

      “My lips are sealed.” She dragged her fingertip across the seam of her mouth. “Where should I drop you off?”

      “I’m at a hotel downtown, but since you’re in the other direction I can catch the T back to the hotel—unless you want to head downtown to meet your Spark date.”

      “You know where I live?” She pushed her half-full glass away from her. “Forget the date. It was just our second. He probably figured I got cold feet.”

      “Does that happen a lot? I mean, with Spark dates.”

      “Quite common.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a wallet.

      “I’ll get this. I can call it a business meeting.”

      “Ah, but you’re not supposed to be here, remember?”

      “Somebody somewhere has to reimburse me.” He dropped a ten on the table. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

      “I really don’t mind dropping you off.” She scooted from the booth, hugging his coat to her chest.

      “That’s