Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [155]
Her first inclination was to decline, to say it was inappropriate and leave it at that. But she took it and slowly unwrapped it, acutely aware of him watching her. She pulled out the red football jersey with a white number seventeen emblazoned on the back. She couldn’t help but smile.
“It’s perfect.”
“I don’t expect it to replace the Packers,” he said with just a trace of embarrassment in his voice. “But I thought you should have a Nebraska Cornhuskers, too.”
“Thanks. I love it.”
“Seventeen was my number,” he added.
Suddenly, the simple cotton jersey took on a greater significance. Her eyes met his, and without meaning it to, her smile disappeared as she combated the annoying flutter. However, he was the first to look away, and she saw a flicker of discomfort. It was times like this that he surprised her most, when the arrogant, self-assured bachelor showed just a hint of the irresistible, shy, sensitive man.
“Oh, and this is from Timmy.”
She took the videotape, and as soon as she saw the cover, her smile returned. “The X-Files.”
“He said that it has one of his favorite episodes—the one with the killer cockroaches, of course.”
With no more gifts to keep his hands preoccupied, he shoved them into his pockets.
“I’ll be sure to watch and…and I’ll let Timmy know what I think,” she said, surprised but pleased by the unfamiliar commitment to stay in touch.
They stood there staring at each other. Maggie didn’t want to move, couldn’t move. They had spent the last week together, almost around the clock, sharing pizza and brandy, exchanging opinions and views, wrestling madmen and holy men, dousing fears and expectations and grieving for small boys, neither of whom they knew. She had allowed Nick Morrelli access to vulnerabilities she had shared with no one else, not even herself. Perhaps that was why she suddenly felt as if a major chunk of herself would be left behind. And, of all places, in a small Nebraska town she had never even heard of before. What had happened to the cool, aloof FBI agent who maintained her professionalism at whatever the cost?
“Maggie, I—”
“I’m sorry,” she interrupted, not prepared for what might be a revelation of feelings. “I almost forgot. I’m trying to access some information.” She escaped to the table in the corner. The computer connection had finally been made, and she punched several more keys, immediately annoyed by the unwarranted tremble in her fingers and the shortness of breath.
“You’re still looking for him,” he said without surprise or irritation, coming up behind her, too close to allow her normal breathing to resume.
“From Caracas, Father Francis’ body was shipped by truck to a small community about a hundred miles to the south. Keller’s airline ticket has him returning today. I’m trying to find out if he boarded the flight back to Miami or if he headed somewhere else.”
“It amazes me the information you can access.”
She felt him lean forward to examine the screen.
“At the airport,” he continued, “I remember thinking how nice it would be to have FBI credentials instead of my measly sheriff’s badge. I was way out of my jurisdiction.”
“I certainly hope you aren’t still worried about looking incompetent?”
“No. Actually, no, I’m not,” he said, sounding like he definitely meant it.
Finally, the passenger list for TWA flight 1692 materialized on the screen. Maggie easily found Reverend Michael Keller’s name, and it was on the list even after departure.
“Just because he’s on the list doesn’t mean he was on the plane.”
“I know that.” She scooted out from between the computer and Nick before turning to face him.
“So what happens if he doesn’t come back?”
“I’ll find him,” she said simply. “What is that saying? He can run, but he can’t hide.”
“Even if you find him, we don’t have a shred of evidence to implicate him.”
“Do you honestly believe Eddie Gillick or Ray Howard killed those boys?”
He hesitated,