“Mann!”
Quinn spun around. “Callahan? What are you doing here?”
“That’s what I want to know. They called me to come down when they found the tag with my name and number on it—I swear to God the alarm was working this afternoon. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” Quinn cut me a glance as if expecting me to say that it was Callahan’s fault. It probably was, but I knew how to keep my mouth shut.
“Thanks. I have to hang out here until the police clear the scene. Then I’ll reset the alarm. And this time I’ll make damned sure it’s working.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
“No problem. God, this is one creepy house.” Callahan gave me a look, but Quinn didn’t introduce me, and I didn’t introduce myself. That didn’t bother me. The CIA had a stringent attitude toward their officers dating
