The 6:20 Man

Chapter 60

Devine heard Tapshaw’s car pull into the one-car garage. Shortly thereafter he heard her come up the stairs. He listened to her open and close her bedroom door a few moments later. He sat on his bed and thought about things. The problem was there were too many things to think about.

Later, he heard the front door open and the sound of footsteps came up the stairs. He could tell by the footfalls that it was Speers. Her door closed as well. Then he heard her bedsprings squeak.

He looked at his watch. Six thirty. Speers would not expect him to be home. He walked over to the wall separating their bedrooms and put his ear to it. He heard clicking. She was on her laptop. He stood there, hoping that she might make a call and he could attempt to listen, but that didn’t happen. The clicking stopped. A minute or so passed and her door opened and she passed down the hall. He opened his door a crack to see her at the top of the stairs dressed in her yoga clothes. She went down the steps.

He slipped out and quietly moved over to her door. He tried the knob. It turned. She had forgotten to lock it or thought there was no need. He slowly opened it and glanced back at the stairs. Normally Speers would take a good forty-five minutes for her yoga routine.

He stood in the doorway, looking around. The clothes she had obviously been wearing were lying on the floor. He glanced at the bed and thought for a moment of that sex-charged night and then pushed that right out of his head. This woman he’d thought was a friend was a potential enemy. He eased into the room and closed the door softly behind him. He could also hear clicking coming from Tapshaw’s room; she was obviously humming away on her monster screens.

He did a quick search of the desk drawers and eyed the pile of law books that were stacked exactly as before. He opened the one on top and riffled through the pages: no marginalia, no highlighting; they were clearly for show. He went through the closet and bureau drawers and found nothing helpful. Her laptop and phone were time-locked and biometric protected, and thus inaccessible. Her purse was there and he took out her wallet. All the cards and driver’s license said “Helen Speers,” and the picture on the license was her. He put the wallet back and looked under the bed. A suitcase was there with no name tag. It was empty. He lifted the mattress and saw it underneath. A Glock 17 in black matte finish with pebbled grips and a Big Dot tritium night sight.

He put the mattress back in place and left.

As he was closing the door to leave, a voice said, “What are you doing, Travis?”

He turned to see Tapshaw in the doorway of her room holding a large coffee cup with Hummingbird’s logo.

He said, “I was looking for Helen. I thought she was in her room. I had given her a book to read that I needed back. But I couldn’t find it.”

“Oh. I think she’s downstairs doing her yoga.”

“Thanks, I didn’t hear her.”

“Why are you home so early? Did you get fired?” she added playfully.

He grinned at her remark. “Some days I wish I had.”

“Want some coffee? I’m going to make some.”

“No, I’m good, thanks. I’ll ask Helen about the book later, no need to bother her if you were going to.”

“No problem.” She glanced at him. “Are you sure you’re okay, Travis? You just seem, I don’t know, out of sorts.”

He decided to tell her the truth. “Another woman from my office was found dead at her home.”

She just stared at him for a moment. Then she shivered, shook her head, and said in a low voice, “Another woman? Was she...?”

“She was killed, yes.”

Tears appeared in Tapshaw’s large eyes. “Oh, God. I just don’t understand how...”

“I... I got another email from that same source. Can I forward it to you to see if it helps you trace the other one?”

She looked at him with determination. “Definitely. I will trace it, Travis.”

Tapshaw turned, walked back into her room, and closed the door. He heard the lock turn.

And who could blame her? he thought.

At eleven thirty that night Devine was awoken by movement in the hall. He listened for a moment, then rose and opened his door a crack.

Speers was in her nightgown and was peering down the steps leading to the main level. When she turned back around, he eased the door closed. He heard her walk back down the hall and then a door opened.

He looked out again and saw her enter Valentine’s room. She closed the door behind her. Devine slipped out into the hall and wondered if Speers was enjoying a sexual encounter with Valentine as she had with him.

Why should I be special?

But then he heard snores wafting up from the main floor. He edged down the stairs and saw Valentine sleeping on the couch. Now he understood. That was why she had gone there first, to make sure the Russian wasn’t in his bedroom.

Devine went back to his room.

A couple of minutes later there was a knock at his door.

“Yeah?”

“It’s Helen.”

“Give me a sec.”

Devine sat up in his bed, laid his pillow next to his right hand, sat back against the headboard, and slipped his hand under the pillow where it gripped something.

“Come on in.”

The door opened and Speers stood there in her nightgown that hit at midthigh. It was transparent enough with the backlight from the hall illumination to get his full attention. She had nothing on underneath.

“What’s up?” he said evenly.

“I’ve missed you,” she said.

“I’ve been here all evening.”

“You know what I mean.”

Do I? thought Devine. “With the way you’re dressed, I guess I do, yeah.”

She came in and closed the door behind her, locking it.

“I’m not sure Jill and Valentine are asleep,” he said.

“I think Jill went out. Will is snoring on the couch. Pizza and beer do it every time. He’s gonna have a coronary any day now.”

She sat on the bed next to him, drawing her legs under her, and studied him. He made no move to draw closer.

“What? You’re no longer interested?” she said.

“I’m just trying to understand why a young, beautiful, newly graduated lawyer needs to knock on my door. You can do a lot better than a thirtysomething Wall Street wannabe like me.”

She said, “You undersell yourself, Travis. You’re good-looking. And you’re working in a field where you can make a lot of money. That’s an attractive package. And you were a soldier, too, so you know how to take care of yourself. And me.”

I don’t think you’d have any problem taking care of yourself, thought Devine.

She reached out and put a hand on his thigh. “It’s not complicated, Travis.”

“It’s all complicated, Helen. And for that reason, I think you need to go back to your room.”

She eyed where his hand was under the bed and he saw something in her expression he didn’t care for.

She knows.

“All right, but remember one thing.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“I never sleep with my enemies.”

He heard her feet padding back to her room, where she closed her door.

Devine sat up and pulled the Sig P226 out from under the pillow. He looked down at the gun, which looked similar to Speers’s Glock, at least to the untrained eye.

What the hell was she doing searching Valentine’s room?

And was the visit tonight just about showing me she’s my ally?

Then it dawned on him.

She knows I searched her room. I put everything back just so, but I must have been a millimeter off somewhere. So, the lady is good. Real good. And if she is my ally, that’s also really good for me.

But if she’s lying and she’s my enemy?