THE GIRL WHO KNEW TOO MUCH: A Suspenseful Action-Packed Thriller

by Nolan Thomas

  “What’ve you got there?” Regina yellow-smiled, staring at the Burger King bags. A little drool dropped out of the right side of her mouth.

  “I brought lunch. Gives us more time to talk before you have to get back to work.”

  “Good idea. Which one is mine?” Regina asked, staring at the bags.

  Dixon held one out to her. Regina grabbed and rummaged through it, examining its contents.

  “Did you get me fries?”

  “Of course. They’re right next to the Pepsi.”

  “You didn’t get me a diet Pepsi, did you?”

  “No. I got you two Whoppers with everything, including cheese, a regular Pepsi, and a large order of fries.”

  “Perfect.” Regina stuffed the sandwich in her mouth so fast Dixon could see a piece of the foil wrapper mixed with the contents in her mouth.

  Grabbing the bag from Regina’s hand, she said, “Before we go any further, I have to know if you’re wired.”

  “Hey, give that back. What’d you do that for?” Regina whined, while bits of burger smothered in condiments dropped on her chest.

  “Are you wearing a damned wire?” Dixon snapped.

  She reached over and ran her hands along Regina’s belly. She expertly and rapidly ran her hands up under Regina’s breasts, behind her neck, down her back, then along the sides of her torso and the area of her underwear. Dixon didn’t worry about anyone seeing them—the bench was nestled in a secluded area. Even if someone did, they would just think it was a couple of lesbians getting in a quickie over their lunch break.

  It happened so quickly, Regina barely realized she’d been frisked. Dixon shoved the bag of food back at her. Regina reached for the half-eaten burger and shoved it into her mouth.

  “What the hell did you do that for?” Regina asked. She had stuffed so much food in her face with a single bite, Dixon found it almost impossible to understand what she said.

  “Look. In case you don’t grasp the situation, you and I engaged in a criminal act involving a minor. You tell me a cop shows up with a picture of Riley. I need to make sure you aren’t setting me up.”

  “Holy shit! You think I would do something like that?”

  “I think you would do whatever it took to save your own skin.”

  “Well I’m not wearing a wire, and I didn’t set you up,” Regina huffed.

  Dixon demanded, “Show me the picture.”

  “Jeeze. Can’t you wait until I finish my lunch?”

  “No, I can’t wait. I want to see it now.”

  “All right. Hold your horses.” Regina pushed the last of the whopper into her mouth then reached for a couple of fries, and shoved them in too. Still chewing, she bent over, picked up her purse and pulled out the magazine. She riffled through the pages until she found where she had stuck the photo. She pulled it out and handed it to Dixon, leaving greasy-finger stains on the picture.

  “Didn’t you tell me this kid was a loner who had no one else?”

  “That’s right. She had no living relatives. Her mom was a junkie. She and her mom were living out of a car. There wasn’t anyone. I’m sure of that.”

  “Then how do you explain this picture?” Dixon asked, pushing the picture towards Regina. “Some Good Samaritan passing her on the street wouldn’t have taken this picture, and then know to look for her.”

  “That’s what the cop told me. Who else could it be?” Regina asked, making a sucking noise with her straw, determined to get the last drops of her Pepsi from the bottom of the paper cup. She got red in the face from the exertion.

  “I know one person who could have taken this picture.”

  “Who?” Regina asked, finally releasing her lips from the straw.

  “You.” Her cold, nearly colorless eyes fixed on Regina.

  “Me? Why would I do something like that?”

  “Blackmail.”

  “Blackmail? Who would I blackmail? Why?”

  “Me. My wealthy clients. Perhaps you think there’s more money to be made from the rich clients.”

  “That’s crazy.” She tried to get up, but had difficulty moving. Her arms and legs felt like lead.

  Dixon sneered. “Having a little trouble getting up, are you?”

  Regina continued to struggle to get up but her arms and legs didn’t respond. Panic spread through her body. She didn’t understand. Why was Dixon talking crazy like this?

  “Don’t worry, Regina, I have the antidote for the poison causing your paralysis. As long as you get it in the next fifteen minutes you’ll be fine.” Dixon held up a hypodermic needle. “Of course, if you don’t get the antidote you’ll be dead in twenty minutes.”

  The horror of understanding struck. Regina tried to look around, but paralysis had a stranglehold on her neck. Their bench was off the beaten path. Can anyone see me? Hear me?

  “If you scream, I’ll leave and take my antidote with me. Do you understand the gravity of your situation?”

  Regina tried to nod her head, but couldn’t.

  “Regina, you must speak your answers. You have ten minutes until the paralysis spreads to your vocal cords. After that it’s your lungs. The heart is the last to be paralyzed, but I don’t think it matters. Once your lungs stop working, you suffocate anyway. I’m not sure if it’s lack of oxygen that stops the heart or the drug. I guess it doesn’t matter. Either way you’re dead.”

  “Oh my God! Why are you doing this to me?” Regina gasped, horrified by the unrecognizable sound of her own voice.

  “My theory is you’re the Good Samaritan. You, and possibly a friend, came up with what you thought was a great way to make some extra money.”

  “N-n-n-o, I’d n-never d-do that.”

  “Why did you take that picture? Who’s working with you?”

  Regina sobbed.

  Dixon leaned in menacingly close to Regina’s face. “Honey, I suggest you pull yourself together and tell me what I want to know, because your time is running out.”

  “I, I d-don’t know anything,” she cried.

  Dixon knew Regina wasn’t strong enough to hold up to this kind of pressure. If she knew anything at all she would have spilled her guts by now.

  “H-help me! P-p-please ‘elp m-me!” Regina rasped.

  Dixon ignored her.

  “Sh-sh-shot! Sh-shot!” Regina begged.

  After a few more sufficiently agonizing moments had passed, Dixon nodded her head.

  “Okay, Regina. I believe you. I don’t think you had anything to do with this. So sorry for thinking you were trying to hatch a blackmail scheme against me.”

  “Sh-sh shot!” Regina’s eyes bulged with fear and effort. Breathing labored.

  “Don’t worry, Regina, I’m not going to let you die from the drug.”

  Dixon jabbed the hypodermic needle into Regina’s thigh and released the antidote. Soon the tightness in her lungs eased. She felt a tingling sensation in her extremities.

  “Th-thank you,” Regina cried. She dropped her head slightly forward. Tears of relief poured from her. She tried to move her hand. Thank God her fingers wiggled.

  “You’re a disgrace to your profession,” Dixon said. “I can’t have any loose ends. I won’t risk anyone talking to the authorities.”

  Dixon flicked open her switch blade.

  Horrified, Regina struggled to move. She tried to scream, but no sound came.

  “Fear is a funny thing, Regina” Dixon said. “It paralyzes too. No drugs needed. I told you I wouldn’t let you die from the drug.”

  In a flash Dixon expertly slashed Regina’s throat.

  17

  AS SOON AS BILLY OPENED the door, Vince bolted across the threshold. “We need to talk.”

  Vince sat down in a chair across from the sofa. Billy sat down on the sofa next to Casey.

  Casey asked, “What’s the matter, Vince?”

  “Remember that social worker I told you about this morning?”

  “Of course,” Billy said.

  “A jogger found her
body this afternoon. Someone had cut her throat.”

  “Oh my God,” Casey said. “That’s awful.”

  Billy got up and started to pace back and forth across the living room, taking in the significance of this murder.

  “This is too much of a coincidence,” Billy said. “Any word on that Kathryn Dixon woman? The social worker calls her, and a few hours later said social worker is dead.”

  “My money says Dixon is the killer.” Vince said.

  “Jesus!” Billy said. “Riley could be in the hands of a brutal killer. What are we going to do about this, Vince?”

  “We have to find her!” Casey said.

  Vince moved onto the sofa next to Casey—Billy’s spot only a few moments ago. “I promise you we’ll find her. I won’t rest until we do.”

  Billy sat down in the chair opposite the sofa, and said, “We need to stake out that post office box and follow whoever collects that mail.”

  “Got it covered,” Vince said. “Around-the-clock agent surveillance has already started.”

  “What do you mean by agent?” Billy asked.

  “I mean FBI. Captain Diaz decided to treat this as a kidnapping, until we know otherwise. He’d rather err on the side of doing too much, than too little.”

  Kidnapping. The thought of that sweet, bright, never-could catch-a-break kid imprisoned, or worse, nauseated Billy.

  “Everyone agrees we need to keep the search for Riley under wraps. The last thing we need is the press jumping all over this,” Vince said. “I know you’re a reporter, Billy, but--”

  “Stop right there, Vince. If I wanted headlines, you’d already be reading about this. My only interest is finding Riley. She’s a defenseless, ten-year-old kid. All alone. Nothing is more important to me than her safety. Are we clear on that?”

  “Look, I didn’t mean to offend you. I had to bring it up.”

  “I get that you had to bring it up. But I need to make sure you’re clear that I would never put a story over saving a life. So I’ll ask again. Are we clear on that?”

  Reading the sincerity in Billy’s eyes, Vince nodded. “Clear.”

  “Okay.” Billy placed his hand on Vince’s shoulder, giving it a we’re good squeeze. “Any leads from the social worker angle? Anything in her background that might be useful to identify or find this Kathryn Dixon?”

  “Nothing so far. We’re conducting interviews, but nothing’s turned up. Those three deposits, and the phone connection with Kathryn Dixon, are the biggest leads we have. Regina Cox didn’t have many friends. Her coworkers are shocked by her murder, but don’t seem all that upset. Her family isn’t asking a lot of questions. Apparently she didn’t have much contact with them, so we’re not expecting to turn up much there either. No one seems to miss her.”

  “How sad for her,” Casey said.

  “I don’t have any sympathy for her,” Vince said. “It looks to me like she got killed because she knew something about Riley.”

  “But we don’t know for sure why she--” Casey said.

  “You can’t be serious?” Billy interrupted.

  “I know. I just don’t like judging before we have all the facts.”

  “Casey, we’re not judging her,” Billy said. “We’re just objectively looking at the facts. It’s hard not to conclude she’s involved. What we don’t know is why or to what degree. We’ve got to figure that out. I feel sad for Jessica. I feel sad for Riley. But we don’t have time for sad. We have to find Kathryn Dixon. Riley could be next.”

  18

  THE JUDGE SLAMMED HIS FIST on the desk. “What do you mean you can’t get the General on the line?”

  “I’m told he’s in a meeting and is not to be disturbed,” his secretary said.

  “Get your ass back out there and tell them I don’t care if he’s meeting with the President of the United States. I want to talk to him, and I want to talk to him now.”

  “Yes, sir.” She left his office.

  A few minutes later, she returned, bracing herself for the next onslaught.

  “Tell me what I want to hear.”

  “Actually, sir, the General is on a call with the Presi--”

  “Unnn-fucking-believable,” he interrupted.

  “His aide assured me he’ll put him through as soon as the call is completed. He has no way of knowing how long that will be, but said conversations with the President were usually brief due to his schedule.”

  “I don’t need a lecture from you on how long calls with the President take. I get calls from him myself.”

  “Of course sir. I’ll let you know as soon as the General is on the line.”

  The Judge paced in his office. What the hell was going on?

  Judge Jason Maxwell founded Maxwell & Smythe when he retired from the Federal bench twenty years ago at the relatively young age of forty-eight. The Judge had wanted more power. True power came from making laws and benefiting from their ensuing cash flow. Or, in some cases, money flowed by preventing laws from being made.

  Maxwell & Smythe, one of the most—correction—the most prestigious law firm in Washington, had elevated lobbying to an art form. Nothing happened in this town without the Judge’s knowledge. His firm regularly wined, dined, and gifted almost every senator and most of the representatives. If you were in Congress, Maxwell & Smythe made your wishes come true.

  Travel, hard-to-come-by sport and theatre tickets anywhere in the country, and sex were yours for the asking—and of course for the right vote. But perks didn’t make Maxwell & Smythe number one. Connections did. They had connections in every department at the highest levels of government, including the Oval Office, and maintained an enviable crop of Political Action Committee donors. What made Maxwell & Smythe a legend, and the reason so many members of Congress rushed to do business with them, was their absolute genius at providing the best political cover when a congressperson voted against the will of the citizens they represented. Maxwell & Smythe got legislative results.

  His secretary’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

  “The General is on line one, sir.”

  Judge Maxwell hissed into the phone, “What the hell took you so long?”

  “Take it easy, Judge. What’s got you so worked up?”

  “Worked up? Why the hell shouldn’t I be worked up? The Speaker of the House is courting my biggest competitor, and I hear about it on CNN. Why have friends at the Pentagon?”

  “Judge, you know the Pentagon is military. I don’t have an inside track on Congress.”

  “Bullshit!”

  After waiting a beat, the General asked, “And your point?”

  “My point? Who in the hell do you think you’re talking to?”

  “I think I’m talking to a man who likes children.”

  Silence.

  “Look, I understand you’re upset,” the General continued in a milder tone. “I don’t like phone conversations when the topic is so . . . emotional. You never know who might be listening. I’d prefer to discuss this in person. Does that work for you?”

  “Of . . . Of course,” the Judge stammered. “It’s been a difficult day.”

  “Be at the house at our usual time this evening.” The General ended the call.

  GENERAL DENNIS PARKER, although slender and a little on the short side, was quite strong. His ramrod-straight posture was the result of years of physical fitness discipline and serving in the military. Although he had come up through the ranks and was extremely well connected, he didn’t have any friends. Friends and family were of no interest to him, merely nuisances who only got in the way. As a young officer he had been married briefly, but came to the conclusion that women were too demanding. The only value they provided was sex, and there was plenty of that for sale without any emotional attachment.

  Intelligence, drive, and hard work had served Parker well. He had a not-so-successful salesman father and a mother who filled her days cooking, cleaning, and pretending the family had a high degree of social status. Parker had wanted
to get as far away from both of them as possible. He wasn’t some suburban, middle-class drone.

  Parker went to college on the Army ROTC program and distinguished himself throughout his military career. He became well connected and made himself everyone’s go-to guy, painstakingly collecting favors and calling them in when needed. Armed with a keen mind and plenty of domestic and foreign connections, he excelled at any type of covert operation, always steps ahead of everyone.

  Between his position at the Pentagon, and his access to powerful people in Washington, lobbyists and corporate America compensated the General handsomely for his off-the-record “consulting” services. Through his covert operations work, he had the connections and know-how to make problems and people disappear. He did quite well financially, but nothing like the money he was getting from the Empirion Oil gig.

  The General first learned of Kathryn Dixon through an intelligence contact. It had taken him over a year to finally meet with her, and only then after going through a web of people and meetings. He learned Dixon had no allegiance to anything but cold hard cash. They were a perfect match.

  Although extremely dangerous, the General thought having someone of Dixon’s caliber on his team would be extremely beneficial. That proved to be correct. Her work with Maxwell & Smythe and Empirion Oil Corporation was nothing short of brilliant.

  19

  AS SHE ROLLED OVER IN bed, Riley felt the familiar cold nose along with a shower of warm Rocky-kisses. Together for nearly a week, Rocky and Riley were best buddies. Sunlight streamed into Riley’s bedroom, and she thought of her mom. She had loved those rare occasions when her temporarily clean-and-sober mom stayed home, wrapped Riley in her arms, and talked about the dreams she had for both of them. Riley had listened to the cadence of her mother’s voice, and for those few moments, she felt safe.

  Now she felt safe here with her Aunt Dixie.

  “Come on Rocky,” Riley said. “It’s tinkle time.”

  She threw the covers back, and swung her legs to the side of the bed. Rocky playfully jumped around in the jumbled covers, and grabbed the sleeve of her nightgown with his teeth. With his front paws down and his doggie butt in the air, he shook his head from side to side, trying to entice his buddy Riley to play. But she had her chores to do.