Donovan entered the Nest early the next morning.  He had decided enough was enough and had taken the new case file home to read over while he tried to relax.  The file was thin and reading through the reports and statistics barely took an hour to.  He was asleep within two minutes after reading the last page. 

He tossed the file onto his desk as he sat down and switched on the computer.  He had gotten the weirdest vibe while reading about Wayne Drevin the previous night.  The man had been arrested in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania for a hit and run accident in which a 29-year-old woman and her five-year-old daughter were killed.  The only witness to the accident indicated that the driver had lost control of his vehicle and drove onto the sidewalk, hitting the two pedestrians.  Of course, Drevin claimed the vehicle had been stolen earlier that day and he had not been the person behind the wheel. 

Conveniently, there had been a stolen vehicle report filed, however, the physical evidence found in the vehicle belonged only to Drevin.  If the vehicle was stolen, the thief had been very thorough in not leaving behind any evidence.  The Judge that was hearing the case had set bail for the man at one hundred thousand dollars and somehow he had obtained a bond.  Drevin had jumped bail immediately. 

That puzzled Donovan.  From the background file on him, Drevin had trouble holding a job and moved frequently, and yet he still managed to qualify for a bond?  Odd.  The report did notate that his mother put up the collateral for the bond.  Still, a trip to Philly and a visit with the bail bondsman who put up the bond might be in order.

Hearing the sound of footsteps on the stairs leading to his office, he looked up as Jake and Alex entered the room.  Alex was sporting a nasty blackened eye, but at least she was able to open it.  She had attempted to hide it by brushing her bangs forward; although they hung in her eyes, it was hard to miss that shiner.  She wore snug jeans and a loose fitting long sleeved sweater that covered the deep bruises on her arms. 

Jake, on the other hand, had a harder time hiding his injuries.  The area around both of Jake's eyes were bruised, the left one had a broken blood vessel and the iris was surrounded by the sickening blood red color.  He looked like something from "The Night of the Living Dead".  Donovan's eyes fell to the cast that enclosed Jake's left hand and wrist; two broken bones.  Not even Jake's baggy jeans and rumpled black t-shirt could hide his varied other cuts and bruises, Donovan instinctively knew they were there, as well as the three cracked ribs that were tightly wrapped.  The kid had to be hurting. 

"Hey, Donovan," Alex greeted, sedately. 

"Hey, Boss," Jake chimed in.  "How've you been getting along without us?"

"Well enough," Donovan answered smartly.  "But it is nice to have you back just the same."  He nodded toward the chairs that sat opposite his desk and waited for them to sit.  "If you saw Cody downstairs, you know we have a new case...such as it is."

"Pretty lame one, from the looks of it," Jake commented, leaning back in the chair. 

"Where do we start?" Alex asked, only remotely interested.

"Here," Cody answered, entering the room.  He handed Donovan a sheet of paper.  "I dug up this police report filed yesterday by a Bosnian immigrant who claims a tenant ran out on the rent."

Donovan's right brow lifted while he read the report.  "Something has always bothered me about naming a town 'Normal'," he said, for no particular reason.  "Gear up, Jake.  Let's go for a drive."

***

Jake watched from the sidelines as Donovan talked to the owner of the two-story home they now stood in front of.  It was quite a sight to see Faruk Kovacevic looking up at Donovan, who towered over the Bosnian by nearly five inches.  The man talked frantically, waving his greasy hands as he did.  Jake guessed he was a mechanic by trade, noting the large array of tools that could be seen from the opened garage.  In the driveway was a vehicle up on blocks that seemed to be the man's current project. 

"You may see the room, if you wish," Kovaceciv stated in his heavily accented voice as he pointed toward the front door.  "It is on the first floor, just off the kitchen."

Donovan looked at Jake as he nodded toward the house.  "Jake, check out the room, I'll be there in a minute."  He turned back toward Kovacevic.  "Did Drevin say anything while he was with you, anything that would indicate where he might go?"

Kovacevic shook his head.  "He spoke very little and did not spend much time here.  Only to sleep."  Worriedly, he gazed up at the tall agent.  "We did not know...and the room has been cleaned.  It has been shown and may be rented soon."

Donovan nodded and handed him a business card.  "If you think of anything that may be of use, please call this number.  One of my associates will help you.  Thank you."  With a nod, he entered the house and made his way toward the back.  He had barely made it to the kitchen when he heard Jake's voice through his earpiece. 

"Um...Donovan.  You might want to get in here.  There's something here you'd want to see."

In a few quick strides he was through the kitchen and down the small hallway that led to the back room.  The door was open, and expecting to find Jake examining something Drevin left behind, he was not ready for what he found.  His chin nearly dropped at the sight of a woman holding Jake at gunpoint.

"What the hell?" he growled, drawing his Glock on her. 

"Back off, Handsome," she barked, flicking her gaze in his direction.  She shoved the barrel of her semi-automatic pistol into Jake's bruised cheek.  "Unless you want to see your little friend here with yet another blemish on his face."

Jake fidgeted slightly, fixing his eyes steadily on the stranger.  "I didn't know she was in the room.  She was hiding in the closet and jumped out at me when I opened the door."

"I don't take chances, buddy.  I don't know you from Adam," she said through clenched teeth.  "For all I know, you're friends of the former occupant of this room."

Donovan blinked slowly, taking in the sight of the 5' 7" blue jean clad woman with her hair shoved haphazardly underneath a Phillies baseball cap.  "We're Federal Agents, Lady.  Unless you would enjoy a long stint in a federal prison, I suggest you hand over your weapon."  He watched in silence as her moss green eyes darkened to near black with anger as they shifted back to Jake and then returned to him.  Who the hell is she and what is she doing here? 

He released a silent breath when she took a step back from Jake and holstered her gun in the back waistband of her jeans.  He made a move toward her to protest her action, which she defiantly acknowledged by lifting her jade sweater enough to pull it down over the gun. 

"I have a permit for it, Mr. Federal Agent, Sir.  You're not touching it."  One hand rested on her hip in an impudent gesture as she stared Donovan down. 

With the threat alleviated, at least for the moment, he noted with hidden amusement the way she swatted at an irritating lock of light auburn hair that had escaped the cap and tickled at her throat.  However, no one else needed to know that she amused him.  He lifted a brow in mock irritation.  "If I wanted it...it would be mine," he assured her, threateningly.  He knew he struck a chord with her when he saw her head twitch slightly before she put a finger to her softly rounded chin.  

"Well, what the hell do you want here?" she demanded, sweeping a graceful arm around the room. 

"I might ask you the same, Miss...?" he said, moving a step closer.  He nodded at Jake, giving him cue to search the room. 

"Jessica Crenshaw, Agent...?" she asked in return, also taking a step closer.  Her eyes roamed over his well-built frame.  She was never one for men who wore sweaters, but this man pulled it off nicely.  Very nicely.  The black turtleneck and dark gray slacks might be drab on some men, but not this guy.  Whew.  She was right to call him handsome when he had first entered the room, but handsome was an understatement.  His swarthy good looks, superbly sculpted chin and cheekbones, as well at the neatly trimmed mustache and goatee he wore would make any red-blooded woman swoon.  But his eyes...deep brown and so piercing that she wondered just what those eyes saw when they looked at her.  Could he see through to her darkest secrets?  That thought caused her to turn away from him, moving toward the window to escape his intense gaze.

"Donovan.  Frank Donovan," he answered, almost reaching out to grab her when she moved away.  He rather liked her presence, strange as that sounded, especially only having known her for five minutes.  She had a distinctive scent, much like the clean smell of mountain air after a good rain.  It was a welcome freshness from the musky smell of the house.  "And the man whose life you threatened...Jake Shaw."

Jake looked up and nodded his acknowledgement.  He was still a little more than irritated with himself at being caught unawares and having a gun shoved in his face. 

"Introductions over, Miss Crenshaw," Donovan stated matter-of-factly.  "Why are you here."

"And lurking in the closet, no less," Jake commented, scowling at the woman.

She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a card.  She eyed the one named Donovan for a moment, indicating clearly that if he wanted answers, he could damn well come to her. 

Frank sighed his annoyance, but took the few steps necessary to reach her side and take the card from her.  "You're a bounty hunter?" he asked incredulously.  "Give me a break."  She definitely did not strike him as someone who would make bounty hunting their career. 

Jessica shrugged and reached for the card, but was denied when he snatched it away and pocketed it.  "I am, Sir Agent.  I was hired by Phillip Nordstrom to track down the scum who jumped bail, costing him one hundred thousand dollars."

He watched as Jake went through the empty drawers and closet, finding nothing.  "How long have you been after Drevin?"

"Long enough," she replied elusively.  "What I'd love to know is...after all this time, someone is investigating this case?  What's up with that?"

Donovan's eyes narrowed at her accusatory tone.  She had folded her arms over her chest in a demanding gesture, and her well-worn tennis shoe tapped out an irritating tempo.  "I'm not here to answer your questions, but you have no choice but to answer mine."

She physically balked at his words and made a move to leave the room.  A firm grasp around her upper arm as she walked past Donovan stopped her in her tracks.  "You're going nowhere until I'm satisfied," he assured her.

Oh no, you did not just lay your hands on me!  "Honey..." she began, her eyes trailing leisurely down his body, lingering in one spot intentionally.  "I don't think you can ever be satisfied."  Her eyes locked onto his and she saw something flash in the chocolate color of his eyes.  Amusement?  Irritation? Anger? Disgust?  She shivered instinctively; she wasn't sure she really wanted to find out.

"There's nothing here, Donovan," Jake informed him after closing the last drawer and checking underneath the bed.  "A wasted trip."

"Perhaps not," he replied, pushing Jessica somewhat forcefully toward the door.  "I think we've found more than we bargained for."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she demanded, turning sharply toward him and breaking his grip on her arm. 

"It means, you go with us until I get the answers I'm looking for." 

"You're mad!" She turned abruptly and took one step before she felt her gun being removed from her waistband and that firm grip around her arm returned.  "This is ridiculous."

"It is, I agree...on more counts than you could ever imagine." 

***

To be continued...