Beyond Suspicion

63

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Jack returned home at dawn. He tiptoed past the bed, squinting as the first rays of morning sunlight cut across the room. Cindy stirred on the other side of the mattress.

“Where you been?” she asked, yawning.

“All over, checking things out.”

“I was worried about you. I tried calling you.”

He dug his cell phone from his pocket. The battery was dead. “Sorry. I’ve been unreachable and didn’t even know it.”

“Did you find out anything about Theo?”

“I think so. Go back to sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He watched her head sink back into the pillow, then lowered himself gently onto the edge of the mattress. The doorbell rang, giving them both a start.

“Now what?” he said, groaning.

“Probably a reporter. Ignore it, please.”

“I’d better check it out.” He took the long route through the kitchen, where he dropped his cell phone in the battery charger on the counter. The doorbell rang once more as he reached the foyer and peered through the peep hole. The sight of Katrina on his front porch kicked up his pulse a notch.

“Just a minute,” he said, then quickly returned to the bedroom. Cindy was out of bed and pulling on her blue jeans. “Who is it?” she asked.

“Katrina. That government informant Theo and I were dealing with.”

“What does she want?”

“I’m not sure,” he said as he walked to the dresser. He opened the top drawer, removed the trigger lock from his revolver, and slipped the gun into his pant’s waist. He pulled on a long, baggy sweatshirt to hide the bulge.

“Jack, what are you doing?”

“Don’t worry, she works for the government as a CI. I’m sure it’s fine. But with Theo missing and Dr. Marsh dead, we can’t be too careful.”

“Jack-”

“Just stay here until I say it’s okay to come out. And keep one hand on the telephone. If it sounds like anything is going wrong out there, you dial 911.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“Just stay here. I’ll be right back.”

He returned to the foyer, took a deep breath. She’s a government informant, he reminded himself, though as a former prosecutor he knew better than to put much trust in that. At the moment, however, he didn’t see a better way to find his friend. With caution, he opened the door.

“Can I come in?” she said.

With a jerk of the head he signaled her inside and let her pass. Then he locked up behind her and led her into the living room.

She took a seat on the edge of the couch and asked, “Are we alone?”

“Yeah,” he lied. “Cindy’s at her mother’s house.”

“Good. Because it’s time we talked.”

“I’m all for that. But first, Theo. Do you have the answer to my question-the album title?”

“I do.” She handed him a small slip of paper.

Jack recognized the handwriting as Theo’s, and the answer was exactly what he was looking for: Thank You for… F.U.M.L. (Fucking Up My Life).

He smiled to himself, then tucked the paper into his pocket. “All right. You just bought yourself a few more hours. But I want to know what’s going on.”

She took a seat on the leather ottoman, then popped back onto her feet. She seemed wired, and Jack sensed it was nerves, not coffee.

“I’m not sure where to start.”

“Why did you take my friend? I want the real reason.”

She looked away, then back, as if not sure how to answer even a simple question. “I’ve been undercover for almost eight months. You know that from our first meeting.”

“Our second meeting. At our first, you kickboxed me into the emergency room.”

“Good point. Because you understand that it’s impossible to play this role without being asked to do things I don’t want to do.”

“It’s every informant’s dilemma.”

“And I’ve been fine with it. Until last week. I was given an assignment. Basically, it boiled down to this: Kill Theo or be killed.”

Jack went cold. “So you kidnapped him.”

“I hid him away. For his own safety.”

“You’re an informant. Don’t you think it would have been smarter just to go to the police?”

“Theo had the same reaction,” she said, shaking her head. “But I can’t hand this off to the police now. I’ve invested too much.”

“Invested what?”

She was pacing again. “It’s no coincidence that I work at Viatical Solutions. I sought this company out, gathered up all the dirt I could, then went to the U.S. attorney and offered to work as an informant.”

“And they just went for it?”

“I played it pretty smart. They thought I was a mobster’s ex-girlfriend, pissed off and eager to blow the whistle.”

“But you weren’t.”

She shook her head. “I knew I was going to steep myself deep in this company to get the information I needed. The only way to avoid going to jail some day was to turn government informant.”

“So what’s your real agenda?”

She stopped pacing and looked right at Jack. “There’s a guy I’ve been looking for. He used to own a factory in Prague, which was basically a front for a criminal racket he ran. Drugs, prostitution. It took me a long time, but I finally tracked him to Miami. From everything I’ve found so far, I’m pretty sure he’s working for Viatical Solutions.”

“And you want to find him because…”

“Because of what he did to me and to a friend of mine named Beatriz. It’s personal.”

Jack wanted to ask, but she didn’t seem inclined to elaborate. “What’s his name?”

“I don’t know. I’m not even sure what he looks like, exactly. The closest I ever got to him was looking at the back of his head from the back seat of his car.”

“Aren’t you worried that he might recognize you first?”

“I looked much different then. Short hair, thirty pounds thinner.”

Jack found it hard to imagine her thirty pounds thinner, but it gave some insight into how she must have lived. “How will you know you’ve got the right guy?”

“I just need a little more time to check things out. Then I’ll know.”

“Then what?”

“After all this time and effort, I don’t intend to shake his hand. But I got a bigger problem right now. As my Russian friends like to say, the house is burning, and the clock is ticking.”

“What does that mean?”

She stepped toward the window, peeled back the drapery panel just enough to see across the lawn. Then she faced Jack and said, “I’ve got a new boss at Viatical Solutions. And something tells me he’s looking for the hat trick.”

“Hat trick?”

“A little Russian hockey analogy. A hat trick is three goals.”

“I know. But I don’t understand the context.”

“First Jessie. Then Marsh. Now he wants the third son of a bitch who scammed him.”

“Are you saying…”

“He doesn’t believe Theo’s dead, so I’ve got one last chance to prove myself. Which means I have to think fast and figure out what I’m going to do with you.”

Jack took a half-step back. “Do with me?”

She looked him in the eye and said, “You’re my next assignment.”