Catherine Nelson - Zoe Grey 02 - The Trouble with Theft by Catherine Nelson

suddenly respected this woman and her determination. I didn’t
understand what was going on, and once I did, I might not like what she’s
defending, but I did respect her.
    “It’s better not to
find out.” She tried again to shut the door.
    I held it open. “I’ll
help her if I can.”
    Then I stepped back
and let go of the door. Grandma Porter gave me one last look then disappeared
inside. The door closed, and I heard the deadbolt slide home.
    I stood on the porch
for a beat, staring at the door. I had no idea what had just happened, but I
couldn’t shake the feeling it was significant. And I needed to figure it out in
a hurry. My deadline for finding Danielle Dillon was quickly approaching, and
it seemed now there was more going on that I’d originally suspected. But, then,
that was par for the course.
    __________
     
    One of my very first cases as a bond
enforcement agent had been nothing but a series of dead ends, questions with no
answers, and strikeouts. Blue and I had tracked that FTA for a week and a half,
chasing rumors and shadows, banging our heads against the walls. We were the
fourth to look into the case, and no one expected results; the bond company was
ready to take the loss. Even Blue threw in the towel, moving on to more
certain—and lucrative—hunts.
    In the end, I found
him. Or, technically, he found me . I’d been doing some late-night
grocery shopping at King Soopers, the only twenty-four-hour option aside from
Wal-Mart (and I hate Wal-Mart). I’d been picking up toothpaste when I saw the
guy stroll by with his shopping cart. A chase (mercifully brief) ensued, and a
small spectacle (a tackle and quick wrestling match) transpired, but I brought
him in.
    So far, I have not
failed to bring in an FTA. One way or another, I always pull it out. More often
than not, it’s because the people I’m looking for happen to walk right by me.
And I had very little doubt I’d find Danielle Dillon. What I seriously doubted
was that I could do it in two more days.
    I spent an hour on the
computer doing more research, then I did some mundane housework and went to
bed. I lay in the dark, staring up at the ceiling, my brain busy. Thoughts
buzzed inside it like a swarm of bees. But I didn’t try very hard to quiet it
and go to sleep, fearing whatever nightmare this night had in store for me.
    After an indeterminate
length of time, I sat up and switched on the light. I retrieved the handcuffs
from my bag and went down to the living room, flipping on a lamp and the TV. I
found a rerun of MacGyver and pulled the bobby pin out of my hair,
letting my bangs fall across my forehead. Then I cuffed my hands behind my back.
    I had been something
of an unruly teenager. I got in trouble for a few things that weren’t exactly
legal, and I did a whole lot of other things I never got caught for. A lot of
these things usually began with breaking and entering. Lock picking became
something of a hobby. When I’d been kidnapped, my abductors had used handcuffs.
I’d freed myself, but it had taken longer than I would have liked. My skills
had gotten rusty.
    Always one to learn
from the past, I’d taken to practicing. Because of my shoulder, I hadn’t been
able to cuff my hands behind my back until two weeks ago. Now, my breakout time
was once again respectable, nearing impressive.
    A new episode of MacGyver had just started when headlights flashed through the front window. I quickly
freed myself then set the cuffs on the coffee table. Probably my visitor was
Ellmann, but on the off chance it wasn’t, I thought it best not to be
incapacitated.
    Ellmann and I have
only been dating about two months. Actually, we’ve only known one another for about
two months. In the big picture, two months isn’t very long, but near-death
experiences tend to speed up the getting-to-know-you process. And Ellmann
continues to prove I can trust him. He knows some of my secrets, and he has a
key to my house. He also keeps a toothbrush and some