Jamie was afraid he might hit her. She wouldn’t let that happen.
“That boy was never any good and you know it. I told the police that. And I ain’t heard from him since he grabbed my grandson and left.” He looked back at Jamie. “So you want to know who he’s close to. Who he might still keep in contact with? Huh?”
“Not at all. I just wanted to get a few pictures to give to Michael of some of his friends. He misses home.” It sounded lame even to her.
Mr. Zinkleman stared at her as he scratched his belly. Finally, he sighed. “Whatever. How much money you got there?”
Jamie wondered what the going rate was for betraying his son. “Two thousand.”
He shook his head. “Not enough.”
She gritted her teeth. The man actually wanted to bargain. How much was the price of betrayal? She opened her purse. “Five thousand. It’s all I have.”
He nodded. “Sounds about right.” He held out his hand.
“Give me a name.” All pretending was gone now. This was out-and-out negotiations and they both knew it.
Even Mrs. Zinkleman understood. She sat in the chair sniffling tears running down her cheeks as she watched the two of them.
“Ryan Mattson. The two of them were buddies in high school, but Michael went to college while Ryan went to jail.” His hand shot out.
She placed the money in it.
“Always did like that Ryan. He wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty like Mikey was. He’d get under the hood and help me while Mikey stood by and watched.”
“Where can I find Ryan?”
The man shrugged. “It will cost you another five grand.”
What a prince. She opened her purse and showed it to him. “All gone. I don’t have any more.”
He shrugged. “Then I don’t know nothing else.”
Jamie turned to leave.
Mrs. Zinkleman jumped up and accompanied her to the door. She grabbed Jamie’s arm. “Tell me the truth; did Michael really give you that money to give us?”
Jamie understood the question. Mrs. Zinkleman wanted to know if her child had committed the crimes he’d been accused of. He was guilty as far as Jamie was concerned, but there was no reason to break this woman’s heart any more than it already was.
Jamie shook her head before she turned and left.
6
Jamie walked out of the Zinkleman house. She wrinkled her nose. She reeked of cigarettes, but the feeling of dirtiness wasn’t from the foul odor. It came from dealing with Michael’s father. What a slimeball. Sold out his son for five thousand, and then had the nerve to try to double it.
Jamie hadn’t even bothered to take the pictures of them. And they hadn’t reminded her either.
It had been a business transaction pure and simple. With a father like that, it wasn’t surprising Michael hadn’t turned out to be the man Zink thought him to be.
The mother was a different story. His mother had sat there rocking and wiping away the tears.
Jamie’s heart broke for her.
Mrs. Zinkleman had not had an easy life.
Maybe, she should have agreed to the extra money to find out where Ryan Mattson was. But she didn’t like Mr. Zinkleman, and she didn’t want to give him another penny of her money. Thanks to her past investments she had plenty. And it pleased her to use some of it to find Andrew Zinkleman. Jamie turned the corner.
Enrique opened his car door and stepped out.
For a second Jamie was surprised to see him there. She’d forgotten he was waiting. Or that he’d been listening to the whole encounter at the house.
“Hey, Jamie. Good job. You did in ten minutes what other agents couldn’t do in two years.”
“I suppose, but it’s only a lead. There’s no guarantee this guy has any idea where Michael is.”
“That’s true, but at least it’s a start. Let me give you a ride back to your hotel room.”
“I’ll take the bus.”
“Don’t be silly. You got the name so your job here is finished. And it’s not like they even believed your cover story—at least, not by the end. There’s no reason to take the bus. I can drive you back. And like it or not we’re working together.”
“That is not what we are doing. I told you I’d give you the information I discovered at the Zinklemans’ and I did. I never said we were partners for this whole operation. I kept my word and now we’re done.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but apparently changed his mind. He opened the passenger side of his car and motioned for her to get in. He turned serious. “Look, Jamie. The past is the past. I want to find Andrew Zinkleman as much as you do. This isn’t about us. It’s about bringing a little boy back home to his mother and putting away a bad guy. Together we can do it. I know it.”
Jamie felt the heat rising in her cheeks as memories rushed in—why did she have to be a blusher? She met his gaze straight on. “There is no us.” Keeping her spine straight, she walked past him and towards the bus stop.
Back in her hotel room, Jamie pulled off the wig, changed into more suitable clothes, and then sat at the cheap pressed-wood desk. After she turned on her laptop, she walked over to the heating/AC unit attached to the wall under the window. It was turned all the way up. The room was hotter than outside.
Jamie swore she could smell the unseen mold and mildew in the room. Maybe, she’d go to a different motel for the night before she started phase two. A clean one with real air conditioning and fresh sheets. She plopped on the end of the bed and stared at the laptop’s screen. As she waited for it to connect to the Internet guilt nibbled at her for being so childish. She was letting her past—and Enrique’s—interfere with the present.
Enrique had access to all sorts of information she couldn’t get to any longer now that she’d severed her ties to the FBI. Of course, she could call Marcus. He would probably eventually give her the information, but Enrique would have instant access.
She sighed.
Time to put aside her hurt feelings or whatever they were and stay focused on Andrew Zinkleman. Finding Zink’s son was more important.
And like Enrique said, the past was the past.
Besides, a good-looking guy like him would have moved on. By now he certainly had a girlfriend, if not a fiancée, somewhere.
If he could act like a professional then so could she. She picked up her purse. Putting her mouth close to the microphone she whispered, “OK, Ricky, you win. I’m at the Shady Rest on High Street. Room 114.”
****
Enrique smiled as he heard Jamie’s whispered words. He pretended he didn’t like her calling him Ricky, but the truth was he didn’t mind it at all. It reminded him of better times with her.
He was already parked in the Shady Rest’s parking lot. Putting the car in gear, he coasted towards the side of the building where Jamie’s room was located. He’d known Jamie would reconsider. That was one of her most awesome qualities. She thought things through even when she was angry and worked out the best path.
He didn’t blame her for not wanting to work with him. The last time had been a fiasco—both professionally and personally. But thankfully, he’d changed since then. He’d grown as an FBI agent, a person, but more importantly, he’d returned to his Christian roots. He was a different man. If only he could show her just how much he’d changed. Before, Jamie would have never called him—never given him a second chance. If she was giving him a second chance professionally, she might be willing to do the same personally.
He prayed she would. He’d fallen hard for Jamie but he’d blown it. And time had not healed his heart. He’d called in every favor to get assigned with her again. With God’s help, he and Jamie would bring Andrew Zinkleman back to his mother. And maybe he could heal his broken heart and be with the woman he loved. Enrique turned off the car and stepped out into the brutal heat. A moment later, he knocked on the door of 114.
“That was certainly quick.” Jamie gave him a suspicious look as she opened the door.
> “I followed the bus and you.” He shrugged. “Just doing my job, ma’am.”
“I should have known.”
“Why are you staying in a dump like this?”
“Well, I could say because I’m paying for it with my own money, but the truth is when I play a character, I play it all the way.”
“Oh, a method actor. I see.”
“I suppose you could call me that.”
“Well, you got what you needed at the Zinklemans’, so can we move to a slightly nicer hotel? Or are you going back to Suzanne’s?”
“We are not moving anywhere together. And no, I’m not going back to Zink’s. She’s out of the loop for now. I can’t have her interfering with my investigation. She’s too emotionally involved. If I need her I’ll call.”
“That makes sense. Speaking of emotionally involved maybe we should clear the air.”
“Not going to happen.”
“Jamie, we need to—”
“We need to what, Ricky? Talk it out. Have a heart-to-heart? Lay our souls bare? I don’t think so. You made it very clear to me the last time what you thought of me.”
He hadn’t meant the words yelled out in anger. “Jamie, I didn’t mean—.”
“Why not? They were true. You were right. What I did was disgusting—I agree with you.”
“Well, I don’t agree with you. You are an amazing and brave woman whom I admire more than you can imagine.”
Her eyes grew wide and tiny diamonds glistened in them. For a moment he thought she was ready to listen, but the moment dissolved as she turned. He touched her shoulder.
She shrugged his hand away, and then whirled back. “There is nothing to discuss. I’m a professional and so are you. Let’s work this case so we can both get back to our own lives. Our separate lives.”
It was true; words could never be taken back. But it was not the time to argue. It was early in the game.
At least, he was on the playing field and he knew his goal. The heart of Jamie Jakowski.
7
Jamie paced around Enrique’s hotel room as he set up his netbook. They’d moved to a better hotel. A part of her had wanted to argue with him, but he was right.
“Almost ready to rock and roll. Make sure you turn your back so you don’t see my password.” Enrique’s smile was seductive.
“Very funny.”
“I’m just saying. You can’t be too security-conscious these days. You may not know it, but there are lots of bad guys out there.”
Refusing to flirt back, she simply stared hoping he’d take the hint. Why had she ever agreed to work with him? Of course, it didn’t look as if she had much choice. He would follow her around whether she liked it or not. Still, the less she had to do with him the better. And she wished he’d stop being so charming. Or so handsome. “Just get on with it, Ricky.”
“Yes, ma’am. Let’s see what we can find out about Ryan Mattson.” After a mock salute, he typed the name into the criminal database. A list popped up on the screen.
She scooted the spare chair over to the desk for a better look.
Enrique’s breath warmed her ear as he whispered. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”
“Think again.” Moving her chair an inch away, she pointed at the screen. “So which one is our Ryan Mattson?”
Their Ryan was the fourth one on the list.
Enrique moved the cursor to a name. “That must be him. It says his birth place is Columbus, Ohio.”
“And he attended the same high school as Michael Zinkleman. Must be our man. So what did he do?”
“Mmm. This is not a nice man. He’s been busted for possession with intent, several assaults, and a few robberies.”
“Quite the hodgepodge.” Jamie stood and stretched, fighting to cover a yawn. “He can’t seem to decide what specialty he wants.”
“Maybe not. But it seems as if the charges are escalating in seriousness with each of them. Not a nice guy. “
“Where’s he at now?” Jamie attempted to stifle another yawn.
Enrique hit another key and a new screen popped up. “According to his probation report he still lives here in Columbus and works in some bar. We can check it out tomorrow. You look exhausted.”
“I am.” She headed to the door. “I’m too tired to think right now. Tomorrow I’ll come up with a plan to find out what Ryan Mattson knows about the whereabouts of Michael Zinkleman, but tonight I’ll be sleeping in comfort in a clean bed. Feel free to check out the bar where he works and report back to me in the morning. If you’re not too tired.”
“Aye, aye, captain.” He gave a mock salute.
She ignored his flirting. “See you in the morning.” She walked out the door. Safe and sound in her own room Jamie fought the tears trickling down her cheeks. Working with Enrique would be harder than she thought. She’d assumed the only feeling she had left for him was anger. Now she wasn’t so sure.
One thing was definite. This was the last time she’d go undercover. Her brush with death the past summer had made her realize the days of going undercover were finished—well, almost.
When she’d heard Zink’s story God had spoken to her heart. But after she found Andrew, she would be done with undercover work. Definitely.
That Enrique would become a part of her life again because of this case hurt her heart. And now that he seemed to have matured, it was even more difficult. Even back then, he seemed to be a man a woman could count on. A man who could make her feel safe—and loved.
She squeezed her eyes closed trying to shut out the memories and the feelings. There was no future for her and Enrique.
That ship had sailed.
8
Loud music greeted Enrique as he walked through the door of the bar. This wasn’t that close to the college campus, but he supposed the students from OSU were welcomed customers at any bar in town. The clientele was young. At least the place wasn’t smoky thanks to Ohio’s non-smoking laws. He smiled. Enrique, boy, you really are getting old.
Not that he considered thirty-two old. He fought the urge to start demanding IDs to check their ages. He weaved his way through the throng of gyrating bodies on the dance floor and slipped onto a stool at the bar. The song ended but another one started up before his ears had a chance to recover.
He motioned at the bartender. Not Ryan Mattson, he didn’t look like the arrest photo. But that was OK. He might be able to get some information from this bartender about Ryan.
The man walked over. “Whattayawant?”
“A beer.” He raised his voice to be heard over the music.
“Draft or bottle?”
Enrique looked around. Not the cleanest place he’d ever been. “A bottle.”
The place was filled with college students, maybe even some teenagers. Did their parents know what they were doing while they paid good money to give them an education?
He rolled his eyes. He really was getting old.
“Three fifty.”
“Keep the change.” He handed the guy a ten.
The bartender’s eyes widened. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
“Let me know if you need anything else.”
Enrique nodded, but said nothing. He didn’t want to make the guy suspicious by throwing a lot of questions at him right away.
As the night wore on more people came in and the dance floor stayed crowded. It was wall-to-wall people. The music turned to rock and slightly less loud.
Enrique nursed his beer as long as he could and then ordered another.
The bartender brought it over. “You don’t look like you belong here.”
“Probably not, but even an old guy can dream if you know what I mean.” God forgive me. Sometimes it was hard being undercover.
“I know what you mean, buddy. Most of these college girls are snobs, but I know a few who aren’t if you’re interested. I can probably find one or two who might want to party with you. If you want to do more than dream about it I can make it happen.
”
Now, that sounded interesting. Enrique’s cop instincts kicked in. The bartender was probably in his mid to late twenties—most likely too old for college, but apparently a businessman with many interests.
Their gazes met.
He wanted to explore this topic in more depth, but couldn’t risk it. His job wasn’t to break up a prostitution ring, but he would pass the information along to the Columbus PD. They would probably be very interested. “No thanks, just looking.” He held up his hand and pointed at his ring finger which was bare, but the guy got the message.
“Too bad.”
“Yeah, it is.” He turned back toward the dance floor.
Beyond the dance floor a guy at one of the tables caught Enrique’s gaze. The hair on his neck tingled. The man was jittery. Enrique didn’t like the way the dude was acting. He watched the man out of the corner of his eye.
In one quick movement, the man pulled out a packet and poured it into the can of soda sitting on the table. He grabbed a straw off the table stuck it in the soda and stirred.
Not good.
Enrique kept focused on the creep and tried to figure out the best way to get to him.
The dance floor was a mob scene. If he went around the people, he might lose sight of the guy. He worked his way into the gyrating bodies and was immediately enveloped in body heat, sweat, and alcohol. He took a deep breath and pushed through the crowd.
“Hey, watch where you’re going,” a deep voice growled.
“Sorry.”
“You don’t sound sorry,” the voice responded.
A girl with long blonde hair, in jeans and a skimpy top, sat down by the creep. She flung her hair back, laughing. The guy leaned closer and pushed the soda can towards her.
Enrique didn’t have time for this. He turned toward the voice. “No, I really am sorry.” He was eye level with a chest, a big, muscular chest. “Look, I don’t want any trouble. I really am sorry.”
The giant stepped closer.
Fine, he wanted to play it that way. Enrique grabbed the man’s head and pulled it toward his mouth. “Look, I’m a federal officer. I would back off if I were you. Got it?”
“Got it.” The guy turned away.
The table was empty. Enrique clicked through the possibilities, and he didn’t like any of them. No. No. No. That poor girl wouldn’t get raped on his watch.
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