CHAPTER EIGHT
Agent Stuart Barrett drove down Interstate 10 toward Tucson, admiring the northern slopes of the Catalina Mountains, a jagged brown line jutting into a clear blue sky. On the slopes he could see tall saguaro clinging to almost impossibly sheer slopes, and the entrances to old mines like dark eyes against the lighter stone.
At least the scenery is pleasant. I wish I could say the same about my temporary partner. She hasn’t said a word to me for the past hour.
Stuart was not happy with his new partner. Barrett had done a lot of work in the flyover states, and Alexa Chase was a classic case of a small-town law officer who couldn’t stand having a federal agent on their turf. They didn’t know how to do teamwork with anyone they hadn’t gone to high school with and they had a sup
