“But,” Eddie said, “like Rio says…wouldn’t it be just like him to try and best her?”
“You know we’re going to need more than Perzinsky’s word on this.” Gabe blew out a sigh. A cue that his patience was wearing thin.
“That’s why I’m going to wire Perzinsky and send him in to pay a little visit to Atkins,” Eddie announced.
“Let me know what happens.” Gabe’s short response told Eddie and Rio the meeting was coming to an end. “Has anybody seen Switzer?” he asked, more like an offhanded afterthought.
“No, sir,” they said in unison, and then turned to look at one another.
Where was Switzer?
Finding that answer was the first order of business for Eddie. Ever since he’d arrived in Vegas the guy had been practically stuck right up Rio’s butt. The fact that now he was nowhere to be seen, and hadn’t been since right before Rio’s tainted gifts arrived, was proof enough of his guilt for Eddie.
But Eddie needed solid evidence. And where was he going to get that? Switzer had been thorough if nothing else. Well, if all else failed, he could beat a confession out of Switzer.
The thought froze in Eddie’s head and the chill expanded all the way down to his heart. He found no comfort in his newfound willingness to bend the rules, and even less in the idea of losing Rio.
She cleared her throat as they shuffled out into the hallway. “Do you think it’s possible that Switzer’s the one you’re after?” She waited until he looked at her, and then continued, “The one you came here looking for?”
“Makes sense,” Eddie said with a measure of reservation.
“And mighty convenient.” She said out loud what he’d been thinking. That didn’t mean it wasn’t so, just that he should put all his eggs in that basket.
“If I happen upon evidence regarding my initial mission here. Cool,” he said with a shrug. “Otherwise—and I know you don’t believe me, but my priority right now is keeping you safe.”
“Yeah.” She cut a piercing glare at him. “So you say.”
Eddie thought about objecting, defending his position, but decided against it. Getting back into Rio’s good graces was going to take time. And he had plenty of time—so long as he made sure no harm came to Rio.
“How did you do it?” Her questioning tone dragged him out of his private ramblings.
“Do what?” Eddie asked. They stopped in front of the interrogation room housing Lester Perzinsky.
“How did you get Lester to agree to go see Turner wired? And so quickly?”
“My trusty powers of persuasion.” Eddie He glanced at her with a wink and an inviting smile—to which Rio rolled her eyes. “I simply told him that you were still itching to get that guy from the Golden Sunset on the phone,” Eddie said. “And if he didn’t agree to go see Atkins wired…I was gonna let you do it.”
“So can I go in with you?” Her eagerness to goad Perzinsky seeped out in her voice.
“Since neither Gabe nor your father is here, I guess you’ll have to,” he said. “Besides…maybe your presence will be an added inducement for Lester, in case he’s thinking about changing his mind.” Eddie hadn’t overlooked the fact that no one, as of yet, had seen or heard from Blake Switzer. Until he found out where his main suspect was and what his next move might be, Eddie had no intention of letting Rio out of his sight.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Let’s do this,” he said, opening the door.
Lester glanced up to see both his nemeses enter the room. Could this get any worse? He hung his head and closed his eyes. What he had agreed to do was bad enough without having to hold conversation with these two. He didn’t need them rattling his composure. He tried to ignore their presence as they sat down directly across from him.
Lester drew a deep breath. He wasn’t exactly happy about being double-teamed, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He glanced up at the Feds. “Okay, I’m ready.” He let his worrisome gaze travel from the guy to the girl. She had some trigger-happy fingers and she looked like she’d be more than thrilled to ruin him with a simple phone call.
The guy reached across the table and dropped a ring in front of Lester. The stone in the setting sparkled, catching his eye. He scooped up the ring between his thumb and forefinger and glanced at the cops across from him. Was the ring some kind of strange compensation?
“You’ll wear the ring when you go see Atkins,” the guy said. “It’s your wire.”
“Really...?” Lester was secretly impressed. Even so, he tried to hide it. Atkins would never suspect the ring as a wire. “Can I keep it?” he added, thinking the diamond looked real.
“Sure.” The cop smirked. “If it doesn’t bother you to have Federal eyes on your every move.”
Oh, yeah. Lester had forgotten about that.
“I want you to go in there and tell Atkins you think the cops have figured out the tournament is rigged, and ask him if he wants you to continue on as planned.” The guy coached Lester. The girl remained strangely quiet. “That’ll open the door for conversation. Encourage him to talk about any aspect of the tournament that he wants. And whatever you do…keep him feeling confident that we are not onto you or him.”
“What if he sees through me?” Lester wondered merely for curiosity’s sake.
“Well...” The girl finally spoke. “You’d better hope that doesn’t happen.”
That could mean only one thing. If Lester didn’t deliver to their satisfaction, she was going to make that phone call.
CHAPTER 31
LESTER waited patiently for Turner Atkins to be brought into the communal visitation room. He stared at the glass pane that would thankfully separate him from Atkins, and silently cursed himself for ever approaching that girl Devon. She was the one who’d gotten him mixed up with Turner Atkins in the first place. Had it not been for that one mistake he’d still be living in the lap of luxury, and Meredith would be showering him with undying gratitude for the new house—that he was now certain the Feds were going to confiscate.
He wondered if the ring was technologically capable of picking up Turner’s voice through the little holes that had been placed strategically in the glass. He’d like to believe it wouldn’t, but his better judgment told him differently. Then again, he’d better pray it worked just fine. Otherwise, he’d be back for another go around.
He perked up attentively as Atkins approached him wearing an orange jumpsuit and shackles.
“Lester,” Turner said.
“Mr. Atkins.”
“How’s it going?” Turner asked, knowing Perzinsky understood the nuances of his greeting.
“Good…good,” Lester said with a hint of uncertainty.
“So what’s the problem?”
“I think those two cops know the cards are being dealt to them.” Lester cleared his throat awkwardly.
“You think?” Turner’s response came with a poker-face.
“Yeah. They’ve been playing recklessly the last couple of days. It’s like they’re one-hundred percent certain their hands are going to win.” Lester did a poor job of hiding his exasperation that the pawns had somehow uncovered Turner’s ruse.
“Has anyone approached you?” Turner asked with slow caution.
“No!” Lester insisted with a quick shake of the head. “I’ve stayed away from the tables during tournament play…just like you told me.” Secretly, he hoped Atkins wouldn’t know any differently.
Turner sat in silence, and Lester’s nerves knotted in his gut. He hoped Atkins was not aware of his uneasy twitch—his leg bouncing up and down—hidden, luckily, underneath the counter.
Turner snickered softly. Thoughts rippled through his mind of Rio Laraquette driving herself nuts trying to figure out what was going on. If Turner knew anything—while his marks might know they were being set up—they weren’t aware of who was doing it or why. Of that, he was sure.
“What do you want me to do?” Lester asked, watchful. “Should I cease prearranging t
he matches?”
“No.” Turner rejected his request swiftly. “Keep feeding them winning hands. I want Laraquette and her boyfriend to end up competing at the final table. During the last few hands of the final match, I want the bottom to fall out from under them!” he added with hearty laughter.
“So you want to pull the rug out from under the cops?” Lester’s brow furrowed, as if he were trying to figure out what the significance of pulling the rug would bring.
Turner was more than willing to enlighten him. “While I admit that is an added bonus,” he said. “There’s really just one cop I’m targeting.”
“One?”
“The girl,” Turner said. “She’s the one I’m doing this for.”
“She yours?” Almost instantaneously Lester realized the brilliancy of his inquiry.
“She’s the cop that busted me.” Turner’s tone hardened and his face flustered.
“Oh...” Lester stretched out the word, processing that notion. When the true nature of Turner’s scheme hit him, he let out a soft chuckle. “So this is kind of like payback?”
“Well, yeah,” Turner said, as if there were no other option available to him. “I want her to know she can bust me and send me to jail all she wants. It’s not going to change anything.” He squared his shoulders as his anger toward Rio Laraquette threatened to hit overload. “It doesn’t matter if I’m in here or out there. I am the boss. I am in charge.” Turner leaned back in his chair and spread a sarcastic grin across his face. “My fixing this tournament will prove that.”
“But—” Lester’s curiosity persuaded him to live dangerously by probing further. “How’s she supposed to know it’s you?”
“She’s a smart little cookie.” Turner nodded. “She’ll figure it out.”
For a fleeting moment Lester thought he saw a hint of respect for the cop in Turner’s eyes.
“She just won’t be able to prove it.” Turner chuckled. “And since no one’s benefited more than her, it’ll discredit her when word gets out about the corrupt poker tournament.”
In the adjoining room off to the side of the visitor’s quarters, Eddie LaCall snatched the earbuds off his head. “Okay, that’s enough. Get Perzinsky out of there.”
CHAPTER 32
GABE Dalton stood in the doorway of his office, rocking back and forth on his heels as he scanned the bullpen, looking for LaCall. After a moment Gabe spotted him on the other side of the room and let out a cat-call whistle to get his attention.
And everyone else’s too.
Eddie looked around and his gaze lit on Gabe. He hesitated for a second and Gabe gave him another coaxing wave. Finally, Eddie pushed himself up from his desk and headed toward Gabe.
“Any luck, LaCall?” Gabe asked, motioning Eddie inside.
“As a matter of fact, sir…yes, we did.” Eddie tried not to let the derision flow out in his voice too strongly as he moved across his boss’s office and took one of the two empty chairs in front of the desk. “We have Turner Atkins on audio stating that he rigged the tournament to prove to Rio that he’s still in charge even though he’s behind bars.”
“Really?” Gabe’s voice was full of surprise as he claimed the seat behind his desk.
“Yes, sir,” Eddie said with a casual nod.
Gabe picked up a pen off the desk and fiddled with it. Could it be that simple? Was Turner Atkins that arrogant? Gabe looked back at Eddie, not entirely happy about the uncertainty that was swallowing him up. It seemed too farfetched that Atkins would orchestrate such an elaborate scheme from behind bars. Gabe didn’t delude himself that it couldn’t be done. It just didn’t make sense. “How many days left in the tournament?” he asked.
“Two.”
“I don’t suppose the Golden Sunset’s going to be thrilled to hear the whole thing’s been a sham.” Gabe’s chuck, nervous and grating, rumbled out.
The phone on Gabe’s desk buzzed. He looked at Eddie as if to say, “one sec”, and picked up the receiver. “Dalton.” Gabe listened for a moment and then threw in a few uh-huhs, whens and wheres. A couple of times he let out a downright groan.
But the main thing Eddie noticed as the conversation carried on was Gabe Dalton’s face drained of all color, leaving him white, ghost-like.
When the call ended, Gabe hung up the phone and turned to Eddie. The look of disbelief had polluted his eyes with a dark, murky sheen. “Is everything okay, sir?” Eddie asked as the anxiety crept in.
Where was Rio?
Eddie’s heart thudded against his chest. He shot up from the chair and made it to the window in two strides. With a hasty hand, he peered through the blinds and saw Rio sitting at her desk.
The sight of her showered him with relief. Damn. Gabe had scared him, sitting up there looking like he’d seen a ghost. Or maybe he’d heard about one in the phone call.
Eddie turned back to face Gabe and propped one hand on his hip. The thought what’s going on dissipated before it could pass across his lips.
Confusion lit in Gabe’s eyes for an instant before he said, “Blake Switzer is dead.”
“What?” Eddie gasped, moved across the room and slammed his palms on the edge of the desk. “He’s dead? Who was that?” The cop in Eddie took over, hurling questions. He was hardly able to believe the news.
“That was the police in Kingman, Arizona,” Gabe said, his own surprise still evident in his voice. “The reason we haven’t been able to locate Switzer is because he was killed in a traffic accident yesterday.” He relayed the details with amazing poise, and Eddie began to wonder if Gabe knew what he’d been doing in Arizona. Were there out of state leads that Eddie wasn’t aware of? Gabe cleared his throat and dragged Eddie’s thoughts back to the issue. “A group of teenagers were out joyriding. The driver was paying closer attention to his friends than the traffic around him. The teen ran a red light and plowed into the driver’s side of Switzer’s car. The airbag failed and he was killed instantly.” Gabe summed it up as if it were all so simple. Still, a hint of doubt resided in his words.
“Why do I get the feeling there’s more?” Eddie asked with a measure of caution.
“Maybe because there is.” Gabe drew a breath and Eddie imagined that he was silently cursing his faulty judgment—not once, but twice—coming to light today. “Switzer was in possession of a sealed letter, which the police believe he intended to mail at some point.”
Eddie’s nerves knotted around his heart and the organ pounded wildly against his chest. “Am I right?” he asked with a shaky voice and a stoic expression.
“It was addressed to Rio…another anonymous letter,” Gabe said. “This one was shorter and more to the point than the last.”
“What’d it say?” Eddie asked, even thought he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear the details.
“It said: Die, bitch. Die.” Gabe nearly choked on the words.
A noticeable chill sliced through Eddie and he shivered. Anger crossed his mind as he looked at his boss. “Can I go search his place?”
“Take Laraquette with you,” Gabe said. “Perhaps you’d better prepare her for what you’re expecting to find.”
“What about the tournament?” Eddie realized the Golden Sunset needed disclosure soon. Preferably before they awarded upwards of a million dollars to one of the players and ended up getting sued by all the others.
“Bradley and Rivera can handle the Golden Sunset,” Gabe said. “It’s better for you if you go to Switzer’s place and satisfy your own curiosity. If you don’t perform the initial search, you’ll spend the rest of your days wondering what might have been overlooked just because Switzer was a Fed.”
It didn’t take long for the notion to take root in Eddie’s head. He agreed with a nod. “He’s responsible,” he said of Switzer.
“I want this put to rest once and for all,” Gabe said in an uncommitted voice, but Eddie could tell he was giving way to the theory that Switzer was their man. “I want to be able to tell my goddaughter and her father that she�
�s safe from this crazed maniac…no matter who he is.”
The two men dispensed with pleasantries as Eddie stood and left the office. He moved quickly in the direction of Rio, still sitting at her desk.
“Come on.” He motioned to her as he passed her desk. “We’ve got work to do.”
Rio pushed away from the desk and followed after him at an accelerated pace. “Eddie,” she said, catching up to him. “What’s going on?”
“I’ll tell you when we get in the car,” he said, and continued toward the elevator.
Inside the compartment, neither of them spoke and the silence left Rio feeling awkward. She studied Eddie’s face as he punched the first-floor button, seeing something in his demeanor that she hadn’t seen in a long while—relief. He was excited about something, but what she couldn’t be sure.
He stepped back against the wall opposite her, stuffed his fingertips inside the front pockets of his Levi’s and looked up at her. His eyes no longer watched her with his recent, worrisome gleam. Instead, the glint of taunting amusement had returned. It made her feel giddy. Rio didn’t like that.
In fact, she hated it. All because of the reason Eddie was there. He was looking for a mole. Early on, he’d fingered her. That was something a girl didn’t get past easily.
* * *
Gabe Dalton chose to remain seated at his desk while Chris Bradley and Paul Rivera came to his doorway and hesitated to step inside the office. Gabe motioned them in with a quick wave. “Close the door behind you,” he said.
“Is everything okay, sir?” Bradley asked, once he and Rivera had claimed the two empty chairs in front of Gabe’s desk.
“Not really. No.” Gabe shook his head. “Blake Switzer is dead. He was killed in a car accident yesterday.”
Gasps and exclamations of surprise fell from Bradley and Rivera. They both straightened in their chairs and looked at Gabe as if asking for clarification.
“That’s why no one could locate him. But that’s not why I’ve summoned you two.” Gabe had released enough information until LaCall came back, with or without evidence to prove Switzer’s innocence or guilt. After both men looked at him with anxious glances, Gabe said, “Turner Atkins has admitted to rigging the poker tournament. Someone has to inform the Golden Sunset.”
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