by R. J. Jagger
He wanted to know exactly why Moore had quit the firm. And why she’d warned Aspen that her life was in danger. More importantly, he wanted to confirm that the source of that danger was Derek Bennett. And find out if she had any information as to how or when he might strike.
Jacqueline Moore was definitely in the mix of things.
Dirty.
That was obvious from the conversation in the hallway that she had with Derek Bennett, referencing a murder, overheard by Aspen and Christina Tam—that and her strange behavior today. If it turned out that she was only nominally involved, however, maybe he could scare her into turning state’s evidence.
Either way, he needed to squeeze her.
He circled around the area, caught up in a claustrophobic press of traffic, finally finding an empty spot on Walnut. He used to carry an umbrella in the Tundra, but it mysteriously disappeared more than a year ago.
He stepped into the rain, making a mental note for the fifth or sixth time to get another umbrella, and then hoofed it over to the building.
By the time he got there, he was soaked.
A security guard sat behind a desk in the lobby, strategically positioned to protect the elevators. She was a woman in her mid-twenties, dressed in a dark blue uniform with her hair pulled into a no-nonsense ponytail.
Put her in makeup and nice clothes and she’d be a looker, though.
Teffinger flashed his badge. “I need to see Jacqueline Moore,” he said.
She studied his eyes and then said, “She’s not in.”
“You sure?”
She was.
She would have seen her. Also, there was no elevator activity going to the penthouse since early this morning.
“How late are you on duty today?” he asked.
“Two.”
“In the morning?”
“Right.”
He handed her his card. “Do me a favor,” he said. “As soon as she shows up, call me on my cell phone, no matter what time it is. Also, I’d appreciate it if she didn’t know I’m looking for her. Do you think you could help me out with that?”
She could
And would.
And stuffed the card in her pocket.
“I like your eyes,” she said. “Especially the green one.”
From there he went straight to Davica’s place. They took a long run in the rain and then showered together. She kept trying to massage his cock and he let her, but only a little.
“As soon as I have this case buttoned up,” he said, “you’re going to get more of the little fellow than you ever wanted.”
She frowned and rubbed soap on his chest.
“You’re driving me nuts. I can’t wait that long.”
“Me either,” he said. “But it may be any day now. Let’s just give it a little more time.”
She rubbed her stomach on his.
“You’re the biggest tease I’ve ever met in my life.”
“Trust me, I’m not trying to be.”
While Davica went into the kitchen to see if she could find anything edible in the freezer to microwave, Teffinger went into the garage and sat behind the wheel of the Corvette.
A plan came to him.
A plan precipitated by the fear that Derek Bennett might actually strike Aspen tonight.
Or if not tonight, then this weekend.
He pulled out his cell phone and made a number of calls to set it in motion. Everyone cooperated and sprang into action, even though it was Friday night.
Then Davica opened the passenger door and stuck her head in. “There you are,” she said. “I found food.”
“Excellent.”
He was starved and would need the energy for tonight.
“You look weird,” she added.
“I’m just thinking.”
“About what?”
“Whether I should bring you with me tonight or not.”
“You better,” she said. “You owe me something after the way you keep teasing me. So where are we going, exactly?”
He stepped out of the mid-year beauty and carefully closed the door.
“You’ll see.”
85
DAY TWELVE–SEPTEMBER 16
FRIDAY EVENING
When Aspen got a call from Teffinger early Friday evening, she was shocked to find that he was taking Jacqueline Moore’s warning so seriously.
She was even more shocked at what he proposed.
But she agreed to go along with it.
So did Christina Tam.
They packed, threw two suitcases in the trunk of Christina’s car, and met Teffinger at the Table Mountain Inn in downtown Golden. He checked them in under an alias, paid cash, and helped carry their stuff up to the room.
It was a nice two-bed suite with a New Mexico décor.
“You guys don’t have to stay holed up here,” he said. “I can’t see how anyone could trace you here. But if you feel the need to go out, stay within walking distance.”
“I need to get drunk,” Aspen said. “I’m getting totally stressed out.”
“Go for it if you want,” Teffinger said. “Just be sure you keep your cell phone with you.” He cocked his head. “So you’re pretty sure that Bennett knows you’re staying with Christina?”
Aspen nodded.
“It’s common knowledge in the firm, after my apartment got busted into,” she said. “I can’t image Bennett not knowing.”
Teffinger looked at Christina.
“He’d know where you live, right?”
“Right. There’s a firm directory. Plus I’m in the phone book.”
“Okay. Looks like we’re set, then.”
He started for the door, but Aspen grabbed his arm. “Who are you using for the decoy?”
“I don’t know, vice is going to get someone for us about your age and size,” he said. “I told them to be sure she’s pretty so we keep it as real as possible.”
She smiled.
“You are such a flirt.”
He shrugged. “Actually, I really did say that.”
“See what I mean?”
After Teffinger left, Aspen and Christina walked down Washington Street until they found a dark place with upbeat music and ordered Margaritas at the bar.
“I just hope that the people inside the house don’t go snooping around to kill time,” Christina said.
“Why?”
“You know.”
“No, what?”
“My dresser drawer,” Christina said.
“Why, what’s in there?”
“You know, my vibrator.” Christina punched Aspen on the arm. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know.”
Aspen laughed.
“Okay, busted. I think that I might have taken one short peek in there once.”
“As long as you didn’t use it,” Christina said.
“No need. I have my own.”
They clinked glasses.
86
DAY TWELVE–SEPTEMBER 16
FRIDAY NIGHT
On Friday night Gretchen wanted to go out and get drunk, so Draven decided to take her to an old biker bar that he used to frequent in downtown Golden, up the street a block from Foss Drug. It turned out to still be a bar, but the ragged edge was gone.
Someone had civilized the place.
Shit.
Nothing ever stayed the same anymore.
Still, it wasn’t bad, so they grabbed a booth, sat on the same side next to each other, and drank Jack while they talked about what life would be like in California.
A couple of women sat at the bar drinking Margaritas.
One of them looked familiar.
The Asian one.
The one with the designer glasses.
Outside lightning cracked and the sky dropped rain with a vengeance.
Gretchen reached under the table and rubbed Draven’s dick.
“I love the rain,” she said.
87
DAY TWELVE–SEPTEMBER 16
FRIDAY
NIGHT
Teffinger hadn’t been on more than two or three stakeouts in his entire career, largely because they almost always represented too much of an investment of time for the potential return. So it was weird, sitting out here in the dark a half block down from Derek Bennett’s house, waiting for something to happen.
Having Davica with him made all the difference.
Without her, he wouldn’t have had the patience.
The rain beat down and sounded incredibly nice.
Better than any song ever made.
Except maybe “Brown Eyed Girl.”
They sipped coffee. The first thermos was only half gone and they still had a second full one in the back.
“I need to tell you something weird,” Davica said.
He raised an eyebrow.
“You’re not going to say you used to be a guy, are you?”
She laughed. “I don’t think so.”
“Okay. Good.”
“It has to do with last night in the hot tub with Monica,” she said. “Before it all started, I was really excited about it.”
Teffinger smiled.
“You looked pretty excited during it, too,” he noted.
“Right,” she said. “I was. But not as much as I thought I would be. I kept thinking that she shouldn’t be there, that she was invading our space. I felt guilty, being the one who brought her in.”
“Our space, huh?”
She nodded. “The space of you and me; our private space. The bottom line is that I don’t think there are going to be any more Monicas.”
“Your choice,” he said. “Either way, I’m going to support you.”
He called Sydney and when she answered he said, “Talk to me.”
“We got Aspen’s car in the driveway to make it look like she’s home,” she said. “We have most of the curtains partially open and the decoy’s walking around, turning lights on and off, stuff like that, to make it obvious someone’s there. I’m sitting a half block down the street. It’s raining like hell.”
“Here too,” Teffinger said.
“So far, no activity.”
“Same here.”
“How will Bennett know the car in the driveway is Aspen’s?”
“The information is in her H.R. file. Plus I’m sure he’s already been stalking her.”
Forty-five minutes later a silver BMW pulled out of Derek Bennett’s driveway and started to wind its way out of the neighborhood.
Teffinger followed.
He called Sydney to tell her he was in motion.
Being this far off the main roads, the traffic was sparse. So Teffinger had to hang back. Unfortunately he had to hang back so far that Bennett slipped away.
He called Sydney.
“I lost him,” he said. “Watch for him at your end. I’m headed that way.”
“What do you mean you lost him?”
“I had to hang back.”
“Well, don’t hang back that far,” she said.
“Now you tell me.”
Twenty minutes later, when Teffinger was only a few minutes away from Christina’s house, he got a call from Sydney.
“We just had a drive-by,” she said. “A light-colored BMW. It could have been silver.”
“That little shit,” Teffinger said.
“The driver might have looked my way when he passed,” Sydney added.
“Then go ahead and get out of there,” he said. “I’ll take the watch.”
“Done.”
He heard an engine start before the phone went dead.
He drove by the house and saw no suspicious cars and definitely no BMWs. He circled the block twice, took a spot all the way at the end of the street under a burned-out streetlight, and killed the engine.
The sound of the storm immediately intensified.
The coffee was suddenly going right through him, so he stepped outside and pissed by the side of the truck. By the time he got back inside he was soaked.
“Goddamn hurricane out there,” he told Davica.
“So I see.”
He stared down the street.
“Come on, asshole. Take the bait.”
Nothing happened for the next hour except that Teffinger had to step back out into the storm two more times. Davica did too, but only once.
Then a second hour went by.
Still nothing.
“Do you ever get the feeling like you’re being watched or followed?” Davica asked at one point.
“No, not really.”
“I’ve had that feeling for the last couple of days,” she said.
“That happens sometimes when you’re around all this cloak-and-dagger stuff. It plays with your mind.”
They were half asleep, listening to a country-western station, when Barb Winters called from dispatch. Teffinger pulled up an image of her new implants, double Ds. “We got a dead body,” she said.
Right now, he could care less.
“Call Richardson,” he said. “He’s got duty tonight.”
“Yeah, I already did,” she said. “He wanted me to let you know that they have a preliminary identification. It’s someone called Jacqueline Moore. He said she’s a lawyer.”
Teffinger slammed his hand on the dashboard so hard that Davica jumped.
88
DAY TWELVE–SEPTEMBER 16
FRIDAY NIGHT
Teffinger cornered a cab downtown, stuck Davica in it, and then headed straight to the Jacqueline Moore crime scene. The woman’s body was still lying undisturbed in a dark Wynkoop alley not far from Union Station, about four blocks away from her LoDo loft.
The sky continued to spit rain.
Teffinger was drenched, again.
And shivering.
The woman’s neck had a deep knife wound.
Her purse was on the ground, looking as if someone had ransacked it before throwing it down.
“Looks like a robbery,” Detective Richardson said as Teffinger ducked under his umbrella. “All the money’s gone from her purse and she doesn’t have a shred of jewelry left.”
“Actually it’s a murder made to look like a robbery,” Teffinger said. “Get the tapes of every surveillance camera up and down this street and for the surrounding two blocks. I know who did it and I want to tie him to the location.”
“You know who did it?”
“Yeah. A guy named Derek Bennett.”
“How do you know that?”
Teffinger was already walking away, but said over his shoulder, “It’s a long story. I’ll brief you tomorrow.”
Sydney showed up, under an umbrella, just before he got out of the alley.
“Where you going?”
He ducked under with her.
“Bennett’s,” he said.
“You want company?”
“Come on.”
On the way to the truck he called Aspen, just to be sure she was okay.
She was.
He warned her to be careful because Jacqueline Moore had just been murdered.
They determined that Bennett wasn’t home and then parked down the street from his house to wait. The plan was to cut him off before he could get in his driveway and then scare him into committing a traffic violation.
Then they’d pull him over and search his car.
And hope he still had some of the things he took from Jacqueline Moore.
When Bennett showed up an hour later, Teffinger immediately fired up the Tundra and got on Bennett’s ass, tailgating not more than ten feet away, blowing the horn and flashing the lights.
Bennett sped up.
Panicked.
Teffinger hung with him, staying as close as he could without actually making contact.
Then Bennett did a beautiful thing.
He ran through the stop sign at the end of the street.
“Got you, asshole!” Teffinger said.
He swung into the oncoming lane and pulled alongside. Sydney powered down her window, flashed her badge and motioned for Bennet
t to pull over.
Instead of doing it, though, he slammed on the brakes, did a one-eighty and raced back the other way.
Teffinger put all the muscles in his leg down on the brake pedal. The truck’s ABS grinded and brought the vehicle to a straight-line stop.
He swung around as fast as he could.
But Bennett was way ahead.
“He’s going to lose us,” Sydney said.
Teffinger put the gas pedal to the floor.
“We’ll see about that.”
When Bennett got caught in traffic up ahead, Teffinger rammed him from behind. The Tundra’s hood crinkled up and shot towards the windshield. Then the airbags went off.
A pain exploded in the middle of his face.
Coming from his nose.
Probably broken.
He had no time for it and charged out the door.
Bennett was out of his car now.
Running.
But not fast enough.
And when Teffinger caught him, the little asshole made the mistake of throwing a punch that landed on Teffinger’s nose.
89
DAY TWELVE–SEPTEMBER 16
FRIDAY NIGHT
When Aspen told Christina the news about Jacqueline Moore getting murdered, Christina hardly said anything and ordered another Margarita.
“I’m never going back to that firm,” Aspen said.
Christina studied her and said, “Me either.”
“It isn’t worth it,” Aspen added. “I’ll work at McDonald’s first.”
Christina drank half the glass in one long swallow.
Then she looked directly at Aspen.
“I got a few things I should tell you,” she said. “You asked me before if I was a spy. I said no. That was a lie.”
A knot twisted in Aspen’s stomach.
“What?”
“I’ve been feeding information to Blake Gray the whole time,” she said. “He wanted me to buddy-up to you, after you wouldn’t drop your investigation, so he’d know what you were up to.”
“Why?”
She shrugged.
“I’m not exactly sure,” she said. “At first I thought it was just because he likes to know what’s going on in the firm. But now, with Jacqueline Moore dead, maybe there’s more to it.”