Kim snorted, and tightened her grip. “I’ll give you the drive after I’m out of your car, in one piece.”
If the girl lived to see eighteen, Teddy thought, she might actually be one hell of an adult.
The woman in the suit considered it for about eleven seconds. “Deal.”
Kim nodded once, then looked back at Ginny. “I’m sorry. We should have gone to the cops the moment you told us he was dead.”
“Yeah. You should have. Be careful, Kim.”
She grinned, more a grimace than anything else. “You, too.”
The woman in the suit jerked the pistol impatiently, bored with the farewells. Kim stepped forward, moving ahead of her as they walked out of the gym, the woman’s attention evenly split between the girl and the three of them still sitting on the bleachers.
“Well, fuck,” Ginny said as the door closed behind them, and she was already pulling out her phone and hitting a number.
“You have the Portland cops on speed dial?”
“Better,” she said, and then was speaking to whoever picked up. “Agent Asuri? I hope to hell your people are as good as you say. . . .”
17
The moment the door slammed shut behind Kim and the crazy psycho bitch who’d taken her, Ginny had her phone out. She could feel her hand shaking as she hit the emergency contact number she’d programmed a few days ago; the adrenaline that had been building up throughout the entire standoff suddenly had nowhere to go except out through her pores, apparently. Someday she wouldn’t break into a sweat the moment danger was over, but today was not that day.
And how sad was it, that she now had a pattern of post-death-threat reactions?
The other end of the call went through, and she didn’t bother with a polite greeting. “Agent Asuri? I hope to hell your people are as good as you say, because your shark just bit.”
Asuri didn’t even bother trying to deny or create plausible deniability: she hit Ginny with a series of rapid-fire questions, even as Ginny could hear the woman’s fingers flying on a keyboard.
“We’re at the high school—no, I don’t know what it’s called—but the woman’s taken Kim—a witness—as hostage. Kim’s seventeen, dark red hair, I don’t remember her last name—
“Siddig,” Tonica said from behind her.
“Siddig,” Ginny repeated. “The woman’s tallish, Tonica’s height but slimmer, black hair, shoulder length, and dark eyes, skin tone a medium, maybe? Wearing a suit. A pantsuit. Dark blue, white blouse. Wait, her hair was starting to go gray, not just at the temples, but throughout. No, she didn’t stop to give us a name! She’s a crazy person!” Ginny made an exasperated noise, then went on. “I do know that earlier this week she was driving a dark sedan, looks almost like an unmarked police car, but isn’t. No, I don’t know what the license plates were! Yes. Yes, all right, yes, I . . .” Ginny held the phone away from her ear, just a few inches, but she could still hear the agent’s voice, loud and clear.
“Yes, what? No, I’m not holding the phone away from my ear, I wouldn’t dare. Yes, we’ll stay where we are. Shouldn’t you be—”
Ginny made a face at the phone, then slipped it back into her pocket. “She hung up on me.”
Tonica sighed, leaning back against the bleachers, the tension still obvious in his body. She could tell that he wanted to get up and race after the guy and Kim. So did she. But they both knew it would not only be pointless, but dangerous. “To be fair,” he said, “she’s probably kinda busy right now.”
“Yeah.” She thought of poor Kim, in a car with a killer, and felt that morning’s coffee try to make a return visit, the acrid taste in her throat not even close to what the girl must be feeling. Oh God, what if the woman lied. What if Kim was dead now, a bullet in her brain, the thumb drive in the killer’s pocket, any chance of nailing her gone forever?
“Shit,” she said, and sat down again, the shaking in her hands moving to her legs, turning them into wobbly rubber stalks. Georgie whined, and pushed against her leg, either trying to give or get comfort, Ginny couldn’t tell.
“It’ll be okay, Gin.”
“How is it gonna be okay, Teddy? Because she said she wouldn’t hurt Kim? She admitted to murder, added kidnapping . . . She’s a total psycho!”
“She’s a sociopath probably, yeah, but that’s what might keep Kim safe.” He swallowed, and ran his hands through his hair. “She meant it when she said she didn’t see the need to kill anyone, I think. This is . . . just business to her. The kind of thing anyone—everyone—does. It probably never even crossed her mind that we’d call the cops, because she’s right, we don’t have a stake in it. You did your job and now we’re out.”
“That’s—” Ginny was about to say “crazy,” then subsided. That was Tonica’s point. “Fuck.” She bent forward, pressing her face to the rough folds of Georgie’s skin, feeling the dog press back, trying to give comfort.
“So, we’re supposed to wait?” Tonica took three steps away from the bleachers, then stopped as though realizing they had nowhere to go, turned, and came back those same exact three steps.
“Like disobedient children in a time-out, end quote. Yeah.” Ginny rubbed Georgie’s ear and reached into her pocket for a treat. Positive reinforcement after a stressful situation, their trainer had told her. “She’s sending someone over to take our statements and yell at us some more.”
Knowing Asuri, every t would be crossed and every i dotted before they were allowed to go home. “She apparently thinks that confronting a killer was all part of our mad plan to get ourselves—and a witness—killed.” Ginny paused. “She did say congratulations on finding both a witness and evidence, though. So yay us.”
Georgie let out a sharp bark, as though to say “excuse me, who found the witness?” and Ginny, reminded, gave her the treat. “Yes, and you helped, you absolutely did, because you’re the best dog ever.”
Tonica sighed, and it looked like the adrenaline rush had ended for him, too—she could practically see his muscles untense. “So we still don’t know who hired you.”
“Nope.” She poked at that sore cautiously, to see how much it hurt. “But if Penalta was planning to turn state’s evidence, and was willing to blackmail her into giving him more money to go away, or whatever it was he wanted . . . I’m not sure I would put it past him to call me in, too. Cover his tracks with the fake client, then ask me to do something for him on the QT once I was here, maybe play himself as a concerned citizen, I don’t know.” She shrugged. “And he called me and not you because you would have seen through his bullshit?”
“I think you did pretty good on the bullshit detecting, Mallard.”
“Yeah, maybe. I’m glad you were here, anyway.”
“Me, too. So I suppose we should go outside and wait for our police minders, rather than force them to come find us?”
“I guess.” Ginny rested her hand on Georgie’s head and hauled herself to her feet. “C’mon, Georgie, let’s . . . huh.” She bent down and picked up the piece of plastic that had just fallen from under Georgie’s collar.
“What is it?”
“A micro SD card.”
“A what?”
“A memory chip,” she said, showing it to him. “It fell out of . . .” She stared at the small blue square in her palm.
“One of yours?”
“No, I don’t use these.” She could feel his impatience, and held up her other hand to slow him down. “It was tucked under Georgie’s collar.”
Tonica might not be technologically apt, but he was fast. “You think Kim put it there.” When she was petting Georgie. Not only for comfort, but looking for a hiding place.
“I think Kim is a very smart young woman.” Smart enough to know that encrypted files from a dead guy’s house might be bad news. Smart enough to make a copy—it would still be encrypted, but Ginny was pretty sure that, oh, t
he FBI might have someone who could crack it open like a walnut.
“Smart girl,” Tonica said, and she closed her palm around the card, and smiled down at Georgie. “Very smart girl,” she said. “C’mon. I want to give this to Asuri myself.” They headed out of the gym and she turned to look at him. “Were you really going to try rushing her, even with a gun?”
“. . . probably not. You?”
She shook her head. “Hell no. Does that make us cowards?”
“It makes us not-idiots.” He put an arm around her shoulders, something he rarely did; neither of them was much on hugging. “C’mon, Gin. We’re not the heroes today. If anyone is, it’s Kim. Our job now is to give them enough detail to put the bastard away. Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
* * *
Whoever had been hanging around when they arrived had gone now; even the echoes had faded. They went out through the front doors, passing a single janitor mopping the floor, without anyone stopping them or asking them what they were doing there. They were sitting on the cement stoop and soaking up what was left of the afternoon sun when a car pulled around the side of the building and took up two parking spaces, the cops inside getting out and walking toward them. No sirens, no guns, just a pair of middle-aged uniforms, one male, one female, both white, and both clearly already briefed on the situation.
“Mallard and Tonica?” The woman glanced them over and didn’t seem impressed.
“That’s us,” Teddy said. “I’m Tonica, that’s Mallard. The one with the fur coat is Georgie.”
The female cop bent at the knees slightly, and gave Georgie the back of her hand to sniff. “Hello, Georgie. My name’s Jennie, that’s almost the same sound, isn’t it? Mind if I take your humans’ statements?”
Georgie got to her feet and gave the hand a polite sniff, then settled back onto the asphalt with a soft groan, clearly prepared to wait.
“I already gave a description—” Ginny started, and stopped when the guy raised a hand.
“Humor us,” he said. “It’s simpler if we don’t have to go through the feds to get the details.”
Joint investigations looked to be about as much fun for the locals in real life as they were on TV. He glanced at Ginny, who shook her head slightly. She was still going to hold out for Asuri, not the local cops. He could see the logic: the cops would take it and pat them on the head, at best. Asuri would acknowledge the debt.
“I got this, Shawn,” the woman, whose name tag read J. MACK, said. “You check in.”
“Best two out of three?” he asked, and she gave him a Look. “Yeah, all right.” He took off his hat and headed into the building, Teddy guessed to see if there was anyone at the front desk, although he didn’t know what answers they might give: Wouldn’t the cops be able to get Kim’s personal info directly?
Or maybe they were going to check the gym. Had Ginny told Asuri where they were? Maybe there was evidence there that they’d missed, or . . . well. There had been, only they hadn’t missed it.
“No, she never gave a name. I really didn’t think it was the time and place to exchange business cards.”
Teddy came back to the conversation in a hurry, hearing That Tone in Ginny’s voice.
“It’s been a long couple of days,” he said, trying to soothe things over, but both women shot him glares, and he decided to stay out of it unless asked a direct question.
For all her tone, Ginny seemed perfectly willing to recount everything that had happened, and the cop just nodded, or occasionally asked Teddy if he had anything to add.
They had just about finished when her partner came back, shaking his head, so whatever he’d gone in for, he hadn’t found. He looked like he was about to say something when a call came in on his radio. He held up a finger and stepped off to the side to answer it.
“Got that.” He turned back, and the lines on his face had eased slightly. “They found your girl just before the I-5 bridge. She’s fine. A little shaken up, but they’re bringing her back to the station and her folks.”
“And being grounded for the next decade,” Teddy said, and the guy cop widened his eyes and nodded.
“Oh yeah. You got kids?” the cop asked.
“Seven nieces and nephews.”
“Ouch.”
“All right, now that you boys have finished bonding . . . ?” Officer Mack tilted her head, indicating that she thought she and her partner should get back to it, and not stand around chitchatting.
“What else do you need from us?”
Shawn—S. WITLOCK, as per his name tag—shook his head. “Nothing.”
“That’s it? We’re done?” Ginny frowned, looking at them. “But what about—”
“Your mystery woman’s got hounds on her tail,” Witlock said. “She was smart enough not to take an underage hostage across state lines, but the feds were already in the loop, so it’s just a matter of time before someone rolls over on her. You might get called back to testify, but if the feds manage to work up a half-decent case, they may not need you.” He shrugged, indicating that he really didn’t give a damn either way.
“So we’re free to leave?” Teddy asked. Translation, in his own mind, at least: He could take Ginny back to Seattle, where they both belonged?
“Please,” the male cop said, with considerable feeling. “Go home. Leave town. Don’t come back.”
That was a little harsh, considering they’d helped crack the case, but Teddy could see the guy’s point of view. He could also see, though, that Ginny was hesitating: after all this, the stress and the frustration and yeah, the fear—she didn’t want to let go. Not until she’d handed that chip to Asuri directly, anyway.
“Gin. The girl’s safe, we know who the killer is, and they’re right, Asuri’ll put the full fear of the federal government on everyone involved—Collins and the other guy, they’re not that tough, and they’ll roll. They’ll get her. We can send Asuri her fruit basket later.”
She looked at him, confused, then her expression cleared when she understood what he meant—no need to tell the cops what they had; if they gave it to Asuri directly, she’d owe them. Again.
He put a hand on her arm and tugged Georgie’s leash gently out of her hand. “C’mon. Let’s go home.”
* * *
“I got her voice mail,” Ginny said, with a tone of distinct annoyance from the passenger seat of the car, phone held to her ear.
“So leave her a message.” He grinned at her, and the mischief in that smile sparked an imp of her own.
“Agent Asuri. As per the nice folk at the Portland PD, I am on my way home. But before you head back to wherever it is they have you stationed, you might want to swing by Mary’s and buy us a drink. And pick up a memory card that you may find of interest.”
She ended the call and leaned back against the upholstery. “If there’s nothing on that card, or it’s just Kim’s homework assignments, we’re going to look like idiots.”
“We might,” he agreed.
There was silence for a few miles, Georgie half asleep in the back, when Ginny started to laugh, a choking kind of noise. “A killer used me as a cover-up.”
“Tried to use you. Failed.” He reached over and patted her knee, with overtly mock patronization. “Because you’re just that awesome.”
“Shut up. I’m pissed-off.” She stared out the window, then looked back at him, finally. “We did a pretty good job, though. Even Asuri said so, even before the chip. In her own, really brusque way.”
“Maybe she’ll send us the fruit basket.”
Ginny gave that comment the respect it deserved, and he batted at her upraised finger, laughing. “Kim’s okay, the murder was solved, and okay, we still don’t know who called you in on this, but we’re pretty sure we know why. And we’re heading home. Why are you still so bitchy?”
Ginny folded her arms across
her chest and found a new thing to worry about. “I’m going to have to vet every single damn client from now on, to make sure they’re for real. I’ll be too paranoid not to.”
“Probably.”
“And everyone who tries to hire us. Which we should have been doing anyway. No more taking whatever jobs come our way because they tug our heartstrings.”
“Uh-huh.” She glanced sideways at him. He was staring at the road, but there was just enough of a smile at the corner of his otherwise deadpan expression that she knew he was laughing at her.
“I’m serious.”
“I know you are. I also know that the next time someone comes and tugs our heartstrings, we’re going to leap before we look. But it’s nice that you’re worrying about it.”
She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him, and instead went back to looking out the window, watching the landscape go by. She should be driving—it was her rental car, after all—but she was so damn tired, she hadn’t bothered to argue when he held out his hands for the keys, back in the school parking lot. She’d grumble at his pushy alpha-male car-owning behavior some other time.
“We really need to start taking this seriously,” she said. “The investigations side, I mean. More seriously. Because obviously other people are. And Asuri said she was bragging on us to other agents. Okay, she didn’t exactly say bragging but she was. Said that we were higher visibility than we knew. So we need to up our game.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He wasn’t agreeing to anything, much less her not-yet-voiced plan to actually get them both licensed, but it was a start.
She frowned. “And we never got paid for this.”
“Yeah, I know. Believe me, I know. And I’m going to have to dock my own pay for the time away from the bar, which sucks.”
Clawed: A Gin & Tonic Mystery Page 22