Ron gave her a small salute in absolute sincerity. “You got it.”
She thanked him again and made her way to the subway. Her eyes searched the crowd of people dotting the sidewalks and the tops of the buildings. If she’d been followed to the family in the little yellow house, what made her think she wasn’t being followed now?
* * *
Nick and Cass were in the conference room when Lara got to 26 Federal Plaza. A box of bagels was sitting on the table. It made her stomach growl in greeting.
“You’re here early,” Nick said. His current conversation with Cass had his brows still drawn together in concentration. Lara suspected that he wasn’t even focused on what he’d just said as way of good morning. It made her instantly intrigued.
“Trouble sleeping,” she dismissed. “What’s up?”
“I found a new Dunst-related lead,” Cass answered. Nick handed Lara a sticky note with an address. “One of the crime scene techs found two separate receipts at Dunst’s apartment with the same address on it. I checked it out, and it’s a Laundromat that he apparently used to frequent.”
Lara raised her eyebrow.
“Okay...” She didn’t see the connection to a lead.
“That’s what I just said,” Nick added.
Cass let out a sigh. She pinched the bridge of her nose before answering.
“Geez, guys, have more faith in me, okay?” she deadpanned. “That Laundromat is twenty minutes—on a good day—away from his apartment. To go there he’d have to hop two different buses, passing three other Laundromats. Including one a block away from his apartment.”
Lara and Nick’s eyes widened in unison.
“So why would our guy go that far out of his way?”
Cass snapped her fingers. “Looks like that’s what the two of you need to find out.” She started to leave. “And while you do that, I’ll continue searching through Dunst’s electronic life. Be careful.”
“We’ll try,” Nick said. He turned and pushed the bagel box over to Lara before pulling one out for himself. He wore a pair of jeans that looked as if they’d come straight out of a ’90s Levi’s ad. They were a faded navy and fit him nicely. Coupled with a gray shirt and his leather jacket, Nick Delano was the perfect cross between street and agent. “What do you think it’s all about?” he asked when they’d gotten into the car. Nick had taken to the driver’s side without question. That was fine by Lara. She’d have more freedom to eat her bagel.
“What? The Laundromat?” she asked, taking in a considerably larger bite than she’d meant to. Apparently she was hungrier than she’d thought. After receiving the box with the pictures, she hadn’t even thought about eating dinner the night before.
“Yeah. Why would a lowlife truck it that far away to do clothes? You think it’s a cover for something?”
Lara shrugged. “I can’t say until I see the place and the people who frequent it. All we can safely bet is that it isn’t human trafficking. Sean Dunst killed Tina Cole to save the little girl, remember?” Even as she said it, Lara squirmed in her seat, uncomfortable at the thought that, in his mind, Dunst had been merciful.
Nick nodded. “It could be a meeting place for whoever he was trying to work for.” That perked her up. “Which means, if this lead pans out, we could take down more than just one bad guy. Something I hear you’re good at.” He cast her a sly look. One that told her he was teasing her.
It pushed her earlier dream to the forefront of her mind. She tensed, trying to get away from the memory. Nick must have taken her silence as a sign that he’d overstepped. He changed the subject to the weather. It carried them to a handful of blocks lined with crumbling brick storefronts and the occasional run-down apartment complex. No high-rises here.
“Park there so we can scope the place before we get out,” Lara said when they were a block over from Dunst’s apparently favorite Laundromat, the Fluff-N-Fold. Nick pulled into an empty spot between a beat-up Buick and a rusted Honda. He cut the engine with a grunt.
“No wonder Dunst liked coming here.” He peered through the windshield at the Laundromat in the distance. “It’s just his style.”
They pushed out into the crisp morning air with the knowledge that all bystanders would pick up on the fact that they were law enforcement of some kind. It was simply inevitable. Even if they hadn’t been wearing jackets that were styled to hide their guns and badges, Lara knew they had the posture ingrained within them. One that she had taken pains to strip before going undercover.
It didn’t matter how good your cover story was, if your body language said a different thing.
Pedestrians walked up and down the sidewalks. Few gave them wary looks while fewer let their glance stick. Lara preferred it that way. She’d never valued lack of attention until she had been undercover.
“You ready for whatever we find?” Nick asked, moving his jacket a fraction to get better flexibility if he needed to pull his gun. His eyes caught on a few people leaving the Laundromat. They stopped at the curb while one pulled out a cigarette.
“Yeah.” She covertly unsnapped the strap from her holster. If she needed to pull her piece, it would be easy. The Laundromat might have had a slightly goofy name, but the fact remained that the Fluff-N-Fold had been interesting to Dunst.
And they had no idea why or what was behind its doors.
“Let’s go,” Nick said, picking up the pace.
They were a block away, moving closer to their target, while keeping their eyes on their surroundings for anything suspicious or out of the ordinary. That’s when Lara really took in every detail of the two men who had exited the Laundromat moments before.
“Wait.” She grabbed Nick’s arm, stopping and turning him to face her. She angled her body so his partially hid her from plain view.
“What is it?”
Lara did a quick mental slideshow of faces from her past.
Recognition flared.
“There,” Lara said, voice dipping low. She nodded to the two men standing in front of the Laundromat. One had a cigarette between his lips while the other eyed a woman talking on the phone on the other side of the street. “I know them.”
Nick coolly turned his head for a better view, knowing not to be obvious. She knew he was cataloging each man’s details.
The one with the cigarette was the younger of the two. Short dreads, a thick brow, and spotty facial hair, he wore baggy dark jeans and a graphic tee with a cartoon woman in a tank top across the front. His body wasn’t lean but skinny. The man next to him was a different story. His stomach extended outward, barely contained by his own shirt. He wore a red beanie and dark, dark sunglasses. Between the two, Lara knew he was the more aggressive one.
“They were a part of the Moretti syndicate,” she explained. “Two low-level lookouts that came and went without making any real noise. Never gave their actual names, just cycled through a list of dumbass nicknames like ‘Beat’ and ‘Snoop.’”
“They weren’t rounded up with the rest, I see,” Nick commented.
She shook her head.
“No. When the bust went down at the Chicago warehouse Moretti was running, they were nowhere to be found.”
“You figure they’re