the form. Instead she pointed toward the back closet with the paperwork. “You might want to grab a jacket and take it with you for her. The temperature’s dropped about twenty degrees since midafternoon. There’s a cold front moving in.”
Between him, Linc and Martin, there were always a couple of extra jackets in the closet. Mostly because they just wound up leaving them at work, but sometimes they came in handy as a disguise.
“Fine, I’ll grab her a jacket. Go ahead and call a cab and have it waiting around the back. That’ll at least avoid most of the melee out front.”
A fine frown settled between Marlene’s arched brows. “A cab? But—” she glanced at the pink copy of duplicate paperwork on her desk “—I think this address is only a block or two out of your way. Weren’t you heading home? Seems like it shouldn’t be a big deal to just drop her off on your way.”
“Will you be happy then? Will I have thoroughly atoned for my sin? Will you finally concede Sunny Templeton’s not my problem?” And would he finally feel as if he could walk away with a clear conscience? That he’d done his best by her?
“Yes. Mostly. Maybe.”
He sighed and crossed the room to the back closet. He dug out a well-worn orange and white University of Tennessee jacket from Linc’s college days. He also snagged a ball cap off the top shelf.
“Feel free to nominate me for sainthood when I’m through.”
Marlene smiled sweetly and passed him the paperwork. Martin snorted from his office. Cade paused in the doorway on his way out. “Enjoy the sushi dinner,” he said, closing the door on Marlene’s laugh and Martin’s grumbling.
The wind held a sharp edge and carried the smell of old grease and hickory smoke from the barbecue shack on the corner. Cade avoided a wadded fast-food bag blowing down the sidewalk and rounded the corner of the building to the small, potholed parking lot beside AA Atco.
He just wanted to get this over with. Done.
He unlocked his car and tossed the jacket and cap onto the passenger seat. Marlene was right, he could take fifteen minutes out of his day to do the woman a good turn. He cranked his car and pulled past the media to an unlit corner of the parking lot close to the back entrance.
He was about to encounter Sunny Templeton in the flesh. No flyer. No newspaper article. No Internet blog. His heart pounded the way it hadn’t since he’d apprehended his first skip sixteen years ago.
He had to get a grip. He brought in hardened criminals, for chrissakes. Just how much trouble could it be to bail Sunny Templeton out and drop her off at home?
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