The industrial-sized deputy led Jason down a couple of narrow hallways lined with bulletin boards and wanted posters to an office where his coat, wallet, cell phone, and holstered weapon were returned to him. A side door opened, and he was facing Sam Kennedy. Kennedy was dressed as though he’d come straight from a search-and-rescue op. Jeans, a white cable knit sweater, and his blue and gold FBI jacket. But casual dress or no, he looked like the guy in charge. Of everything. Everywhere.
