The P.U.R.E.

by Claire Gillian

  He didn’t elaborate further, so I knew he only shared part of the story. I read him well enough to figure out the unspoken parts of our conversations in his head. He knew I wouldn’t like his plan, and I didn’t, whether he voiced it or not. I traced his current thought trajectory back further.

  “Taking me out on surveillance with you was just a ruse to keep an eye on me, wasn’t it? You were going to whisk me away somewhere with Marilyn. The bag in the back of the van contains my stuff, doesn’t it? Stuff you packed when you got my clothes for our date last night.”

  His eyes darted to me before returning just as quickly toward the front windshield.

  I heaved a loud put upon sigh. “Shit. Okay, then.” I was more angry with myself than with him. “I just needed to be clear on who you were, but now I know.”

  “Your safety came first, Gayle, not my own personal interests.”

  “Why couldn’t you have told me?”

  “I was afraid you wouldn’t go with me.”

  He had a point. I would have pitched a fit if he’d tried to hide me in some hotel with Marilyn.

  “You could have convinced me,” I said softly.

  “Maybe, but you might have convinced me instead.”

  I smiled in the dark, knowing he was right. I would have and still would.

  “I’m not going now, that’s for sure. You know as well as I do that Jeff has gone to one or both of his homes to destroy evidence. Bob’s probably doing the same, or he’s licking his wounds. Two cars left Marilyn’s house. Jeff wasn’t driving one of them, and Leslie sure as hell wasn’t. If we don’t know where Marilyn is, then neither do they, which means she’s not in immediate danger and neither am I.

  “Not necessarily. Bob could be chasing Marilyn. They may have more information than we do. There could be other parties involved. And why on earth did you become a CPA? You almost seem wasted in the profession.”

  “Changing the subject to distract me won’t work either, so let’s go.” I patted the dash. “We need to go get the bad guys.”

  “Not this time. The FBI has already moved in on all three residences.” Jon’s cell phone chimed with the arrival of a text message. He unlocked the screen’s display and read. “Ah. It’s from Marilyn. She says ‘BT, JH and Leslie tried to kill me. Prevented six pm meet. On my way to Alice’s. Meet you there. Think am being followed.’” He paused before he said, “Hmm.”

  I voiced what I knew he had to be thinking. “Why didn’t Marilyn call you instead of texting you? How do we know Marilyn’s the one who sent the message from her phone? What if Bob or Jeff is trying to lure or divert you there?”

  He smiled and leaned over to give me a kiss. His smile lines wilted, and worry rushed in to refill their tracks. “Our protocol is for her to meet me at the Lawless offices, not her friend’s house. That’s where we’re going first since it’s closer and on the way to Alice’s place. Nevertheless, I’ll have the FBI get a GPS on her last transmission.”

  Using voice-activated dialing, he did just that as we drove.

  “I’m not staying out in the van when we get there. I’m going inside with you whether you like it or not.”

  Jon sighed and after a long pause, nodded.

  Smart man.

  I missed the days when I thought I was the one dragging him along with me on my escapades. However, I wasn’t going to do a complete one eighty and play the role of Jon’s precious cargo anymore. Fleeing from Jeff at Marilyn’s house had cured me of any illusions of being safer in the van than out of the van. Stick to the man with the gun.

  43

  Once downtown, Jon parked on the street in front of the building that housed the Lawless offices. He pushed me behind him as we crept down the hall to the suite used by the FBI.

  “Wait out here until I see if Marilyn’s inside and not in any danger.” Jon nudged me into a spot on the far side of the doorway.

  He entered a code into an electronic keypad and slipped through the unlocked door. I scanned the hallways, watching and listening for any signs we weren’t alone but found none. I had already concluded our trip another dead end when Jon returned.

  “No sign of her inside,” he said.

  “Oh.” I bit back the urge to say I hadn’t thought she would be.

  “I’m going to Anderson-Blakely.”

  “Not Alice’s?”

  “No. Not yet. Like you said, something’s not right about that text, and until I hear back from the FBI on her GPS …” He pulled out his cell and, with a soft ‘hmph’, returned it to his pocket. “I’m going to check out Anderson-Blakely’s office. I’m here, and it’s only a block away.”

  “Sounds good. Let’s go.” I turned to walk to the elevator, but Jon caught my arm.

  “You’re not coming with me. You’ll stay here until I return or send another agent for you.” He pushed open the glass door and drew me inside the law offices.

  We kept walking past the reception desk and down the hall to the same conference room where we’d met with Agent Burrows.

  Jon picked up the phone on the side table. “Okay, if you need to call, just dial a nine to get an outside line.” He jotted down a number on a pad of paper. “This is the code to the outer door in case you need to use the restroom outside the suite. It’s near the emergency exit on the south side of the floor.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but he shook his head. “There are drinks and snacks in the kitchen next door to this conference room.” He took hold of my shoulders and lowered his head closer to mine. “You wait here.”

  “But—“

  “Seriously, Gayle. This is non-negotiable. Do you understand?”

  I crossed my arms, a frown on my face as I gazed into the darkened office space beyond his shoulder. “Okay, fine.”

  “Come ’ere.” He pulled me into his arms and kissed me quite thoroughly before he left me all by myself in a dark and lonely lawyer’s office.

  I wandered down the hall and found the kitchen. They didn’t have any diet sodas, and the coffee was cold and ancient. In the honor system snack box, the only remaining items were Rice Krispie Treats and pretzels, two of my least favorite snacks—not that it mattered—I had no money because I’d left my purse in the van.

  Back in the conference room, I fell heavily into a chair and pondered what I’d do with myself until Jon returned. After whirling about in circles in some rickety chair until my head spun, I headed for the ladies’ room.

  The bathroom held no unique charms. While washing my hands, I dissected the night’s events. Why would Marilyn go to her friend’s house instead of to a safe FBI location? She knew Bob and Jeff had her friend’s information, had even shared it with a criminal to use against her somehow. Maybe she was being held captive? Maybe Bob had her, and he was taking her somewhere to murder her. He’d probably killed Kenneth—what was one more, two if he’d been the one who killed Leslie. But why did he tell Jeff that Marilyn killed Leslie? Nothing added up, and the more I stewed on the hodgepodge of facts, the more worried I grew for Jon’s safety.

  Jon wouldn’t do anything rash or foolhardy though. Surely not. He’d use caution, was trained and had his gun.

  I shook off my misgivings. “Get a grip, Gayle.” I tried out the terrific acoustics again, opting to sing a tune about tits and asses from A Chorus Line.

  “God, I’m going to go insane waiting here!”

  Trudging a dirge-like pace back to the suite, I halted at the door and laughed. “Well ain’t this swell!” I’d forgotten to bring the keypad code. “Now what?” My arms dropped with a slap to my sides.

  I hopped in the elevator and rode down to the empty lobby to see if the guard could let me back in the suite. The sign at his station said, ‘Back in ten minutes’.

  “This is just not my night,” I muttered.

  I searched the lobby, looking for any other signs of life but, finding none, opted to return to the third floor.

  The elevator stood with its door open in welcome, right where I’d lef
t it. After hopping on, I pressed three, but the button wouldn’t light up. I tried four, but no go, and the same for two. That’s when I noticed the sign above the buttons that said, ‘Code required after 8 PM and Weekends’. Had Jon punched in a code and I hadn’t noticed? He must have.

  I grumbled and headed to the front door to peer outside, thinking maybe the guard was simply having a smoke break he might interrupt for me.

  Traffic at that hour, in that part of town, and on a Sunday was nearly non-existent. The downtown restaurants and nightlife lay many blocks away.

  I scanned up and down the streets, wondering who owned the handful of cars parallel parked against the curb in the expired meter spots.

  One caught my eye—a white Mini Cooper with the vanity tag ‘LS-CPR’—parked on a side street but still visible from my vantage point.

  Hold the phone!

  I ran out of the building and tore down the street toward my employer’s building. Thank goodness the guard recognized me and let me in despite my not having my ID badge.

  In the elevator, I punched fifty-five, Bob’s and Jeff’s floor. I’d stay out of sight and see if I could find Jon.

  When the elevator doors opened, he was at the keypad near the suite door.

  “Gayle! What the hell are you doing here? Dammit! I told you to stay put. You shouldn’t be—”

  I waved off his barrage of well-intentioned but futile scoldings. “Alice! Marilyn’s friend! Her car! Parked outside! On the street!” My words came like quick bites of air as I tried to catch my breath from having run the entire distance to the office.

  He frowned. “Near the lawyers offices?”

  I placed my hand on my chest, my racing heart slowing to its normal speed. “It’s on a side street in between there and here but closer to the Lawless office. I remembered it from Ron Fein’s fact sheet because she has a vanity plate on a Mini Cooper—LS-CPR, Alice Cooper! Get it?” I paused, but Jon offered no insight. “Why would Alice be here?”

  Jon shook his head, his lips pressed together. “I have no idea. I just talked to her, and she said she’d neither seen nor heard from Marilyn.”

  “Huh. Okay, well I just thought you needed to know.” He returned to the keypad that I noticed was missing its cover and appeared to be tethered to some gadget he held in his hand. “Have you been trying all this time to get in?”

  “I had to help hack into Anderson’s computer system on fifty-one first. The FBI is seizing computer records and equipment from the server room.” Lights from a readout flickered on the device he held in his hand. “They changed the code.”

  “Oh! What are you doing then?” I leaned in to get a closer look, but Jon held me back.

  “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m breaking in.” He put his body between me and the keypad.

  “Do you have a search warrant?”

  “Yes.” Jon smirked at me when seconds later, the door lock clicked.

  “You did it!” I patted him on the back. Smart was so sexy on him.

  He drew his gun from his shoulder holster and pushed me behind him as we crept down the hall. Darkness cloaked the floor except for the exit lights until we turned the corner near Jeff’s office. A glow emanated from the vicinity.

  “Wait in here.” Jon nudged me inside a conference room. I frowned and prepared to protest, but he kissed my objections into silence. He held a finger to my lips and mouthed “shh.” I bit back my protests, nodding.

  Jon hugged the wall, and after leaning into Jeff’s office first, he slipped inside. I scanned the hallways, watching and listening for any signs we weren’t alone but found none. I had almost concluded our trip to the office had been another dead end when Jon came running back. His face wore the ashen shade and wide-eye blinks of shock.

  “Jeff’s dead! He’s sitting in his chair with gunshot wounds to his head and chest. He couldn’t have been killed more than a few minutes before I got off the elevator, or I’d have heard the shots.”

  Jon had his cell phone out to call when the service elevator bell rang in the distance. He snapped the phone shut and sprinted toward the sound with me in pursuit. We arrived as the doors closed their last few inches.

  “Come on!” He grabbed my hand, and we ran to the main elevators. Fortunately, my elevator car hadn’t been called away since I’d stepped off; the doors opened immediately.

  Jon pushed the button for the lobby. “The other elevator opens to the loading dock in the parking garage. I’m taking a chance that’s where he’s headed.”

  “Where who’s headed? Bob? You think Bob did this?” I asked as we descended. The evidence pointed to Bob, but I didn’t believe he’d committed any of the murders. I couldn’t say why exactly other than he just didn’t seem the type. That, and why was Alice’s car downtown? What did we even know about Marilyn’s friend?

  “Bob or Doug or someone else we’ve overlooked or missed entirely.”

  When we arrived at street level, we bolted past the security guard and ran to the loading dock. The service elevator waited, doors open, but its last occupant had escaped.

  “Shit!” Jon paced in a circle and rubbed his hand on the back of his neck.

  The doors to the service elevator began to close, but I jumped on and pulled Jon with me. “Don’t push any buttons,” I said. “Let’s see where it goes.”

  We didn’t have to wait long because we started moving as soon as the doors closed. The car rose, and the floor indicator flashed through the numbers. I yawned to pop my ears. We slowed at fifty-three and stopped right back at fifty-five.

  “Duck down tight against this wall,” he whispered, his gun drawn and pointed.

  The doors opened.

  After a slight pause, she stepped on.

  Jon leaped forward and pinned Marilyn to the wall of the elevator. He slammed her arm against the hand railing, and she dropped the gun she carried. I scrambled to pick it up, but Jon yelled, “Don’t touch the gun, Gayle! We want only her prints on it.”

  I kicked her weapon to the corner instead and stood guard as Jon recited her rights.

  “Marilyn?” I shook my head. “Why?“

  She stared ahead in stony silence. The bad guys only spilled their guts in cartoons, rarely in real life without an attorney present.

  “For Libby?” I asked her.

  She clenched her jaw, but that tiny muscle movement was enough to betray her—to me anyway.

  “Leslie and Jeff plundered Aphrodite from the inside out and hurt Libby in the process. Kenneth was even worse. You were fine playing informant for months when Jeff betrayed and looted other companies, but when he went after Aphrodite, you got tired of waiting for the FBI to spring its trap, right?”

  Jon kept his gaze on me as I spoke, amusement reflected in the lift of his brows and the slight part of his lips. He either found my theory preposterous, or he thought my attempt to prod a confession from Marilyn ridiculous.

  The doors opened to the lobby.

  As I stepped off, he said to Marilyn, “Thank goodness she was on my team and not yours or Jeff’s.”

  44

  My stomach growled around eleven when we finally finished with the police and other FBI-related interrogations.

  Jon pulled me into his arms and gave me a comforting hug. “It’s been another hell of a day. Let’s go get something to eat.”

  “What about Bob?”

  “He’s helpless without Jeff. Plus he’s got his daughters to anchor him here. We know where they are and have their location under surveillance if he tries to kidnap them and make a run for it.”

  “What about Alice? Where’s she at, and do you think she’s an accomplice?”

  “She was at home with Marilyn’s car parked in her driveway. Said she had no idea Marilyn had swapped cars with her. I tend to believe she had nothing to do with any of this.”

  Jon pulled into the parking lot of a brewpub a few minutes later and treated me to a late dinner fit for the working class mistresses of Dallas. After enough win
e to unlock my tongue altogether, I said, “I need you to be honest with me about something that’s been bothering me.”

  “I guess I owe you that much.”

  “While on your computer the other day, I opened up the browser you claimed was corrupted, you liar, and saw where you had been doing a search on my brother, Henry. Why did you investigate him? What were you looking for?”

  He screwed up his face for a second. “Honestly, that was nothing more than my obsessive curiosity about you and anyone associated with you. Nothing sinister, I promise. I did a search on all of your family members.” He laughed and gave me his trademark sheepish grin. “Hell, I even found that jerk, Jason Kirkpatrick, who jilted you in college. I found Henry the most interesting because I ran into several dead ends with him, probably because of security blocks.”

  “Maybe because he works for the government and has security clearance? Which reminds me. He left me a message saying they had done a routine security update on him and found something unusual concerning me. You know anything about that?”

  Jon dropped his head. “You’re probably going to be angry or weirded out when I explain.” He raised up high enough to reveal a guilty half smile.

  “Am I now? Let’s hear it then.”

  “I put a security block on you.”

  “What’s a security block?”

  “Shit, I could get in a lot of trouble for this. My all-consuming obsession with you is going to be the death of me one day. It means anyone requesting background check information on you has to submit their paperwork through the FBI first, which tends to stall things. I suspect your brother’s upgrade included low level checks of his family members. They must have run into your block and experienced a delay. I’m sorry. I’ll take it off.”

  “Why did you put a block on me?”

  “To protect you.”

  “Okay. I can sort of understand why in light of what we’ve been through lately, but what’s the weird part?”

  “Uh … well, the only way I can put a block on someone without their authorization is if they are a dependent family member.”