“Well, I will certainly take a look.” She made a half turn toward Rikki. “Are you sure you don’t want some refreshment before you leave?”
“No, thank you. I feel bad that we troubled you on this wild-goose chase.”
Belinda waved her hands. “Oh, Davey and I were married for over twenty years. I know how the Agency works.”
A bead of sweat rolled down Quinn’s back in his cheap suit, despite the chilly air in Belinda Dawson’s house. Not only did this turn out to be a wild-goose chase for Rikki, she’d had to listen to David’s slights and lies.
As Belinda walked them to the front door, she asked, “Are you taking any time to see the city? I do volunteer work at the Savannah Historical Society every weekday morning, and we have an incredible selection of artifacts and can give you some good sightseeing suggestions.”
Rikki shook her head, her ponytail waving from side to side. “I’m afraid it’s business only for us.”
Quinn smiled. “Thanks again, ma’am.”
Belinda opened the front door and turned to shake their hands again. “Have a nice trip back to…Washington.”
They didn’t say a word to each other as they walked down the pathway to the front gate and into the still night, light from the setting sun playing peekaboo between the trailing tails of Spanish moss.
When they hit the sidewalk out of sight of the house, Quinn took Rikki’s arm. “Sorry about that.”
“Sorry?” She turned toward him, her eyes alight with sparks. “I couldn’t be happier with the results.”
He tripped to a stop. “You enjoy getting trashed and vilified?”
“Small price to pay for the truth and the first big break in my investigation.”
“You lost me.”
“Quinn.” She grabbed his lapels. “David Dawson is still alive.”
CHAPTER TEN
Quinn’s eyes popped open. “What are you talking about? How did you come to that conclusion?”
Rikki looked over his shoulder. She didn’t trust Belinda Dawson one iota. “Let’s keep moving. She could be calling the CIA or your cell phone number as we speak.”
Quinn continued on the sidewalk, excitement lengthening his stride so that she had to hold on to his arm to keep up with him.
With a slight pant, she said, “It was that picture.”
“The vacation picture from the Bahamas?”
“That wasn’t the Bahamas. Did you get a load of that water? Looked like some muddy rice paddy in Southeast Asia.”
“You’re saying that’s a recent picture of David? One taken after his supposed death in North Korea?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“How could you possibly know that? Because of an imagined rice paddy?”
“Wait for the car. I’m not blabbing this on the sidewalk, even if there is nobody else around.”
By the time they reached the car, sweat was dampening Rikki’s back. She ripped off her jacket, and Quinn did the same.
Once in the car with the engine and the air running, Rikki bounced in her seat and turned toward Quinn. “It’s not the place. It’s the man and more specifically the tattoo.”
“That tattoo on his chest? He didn’t have that before?”
“Nope. The last time I saw David, right before I witnessed his so-called murder at the hands of the North Koreans, he most definitely did not have a big tattoo on his chest—a tattoo of a phoenix, I might add.”
“You’ve seen David Dawson’s chest?”
Her cough turned into a laugh. “That’s all you can focus on? Of course I’ve seen David’s chest. You know how scorching it gets in Korea, and all the other hot spots we’ve been in around the world. You’ve been in some of the same hot spots. I’ve seen him without his shirt several times, and I can say unequivocally the man never had a tattoo. Why Belinda keeps that picture around is beyond me. Beyond stupid.”
“You don’t think it could’ve been one of those temporary tattoos, do you?”
Compressing her lips into a thin line, Rikki tilted her head. “Really? The man is forty-four, not eight.”
Quinn pulled away from the curb, his brows creating a vee over his nose. “David set up this Korea trip for the two of you with the cover that he had a line on Vlad. That got him money and support from Ariel. He engineered his own death, while fingering you as a traitor at the same time. Why you?”
Rikki’s knees bounced. “Because of just that—the Vlad story was a cover and if nothing came of it, I’d be a witness.”
“If nothing came of it, he could claim his sources fell through. Happens all the time.”
Quinn snapped his fingers several times. “This trip was David’s opportunity to turn, to go over to the other side. He fakes his death so nobody is looking for him, and he sets up his partner so she takes the fall for being the traitor…and he gets his revenge.”
“Revenge?” Rikki’s stomach dropped. “What do you mean by that?”
“Because you rejected him, Rikki. He kills a lot of birds with those stones.”
“Oh my God.” She wrapped her ponytail around her hand. “It was David all along. He set me up. Why? Who is he working for?”
“This has Vlad’s fingerprints all over it. This wouldn’t be the first time he turned an agent or someone on the inside. My buddy Miguel Estrada had to deal with that. He was betrayed in Afghanistan and captured. Vlad is a master of manipulation. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if he’d worked on David. Did you get the full effect of Belinda’s house? Do you really think life insurance money and a government pension are paying for that? It sounds like she quit her marketing job, too, and is volunteering her time.”
“She knows. Of course she knows her husband’s alive. He sent her that picture—maybe as proof.” Rikki smacked her hand against her knee. “I should’ve taken that photo. I need to provide proof that David’s still alive—not in a North Korean labor camp, not held captive, not suffering from amnesia and wandering around South Korea—but alive and well and functioning as a traitor to his country.”
“Taking that picture would’ve been risky. Belinda would’ve known it was missing and would’ve known it was us.”
“I need to get some proof.”
“The decoding. Let me get my guy, Donovan Chan, to work on David’s emails. I think we can take it to the bank that those messages contain some incriminating information.” Quinn wheeled into a parking lot and squealed to a stop. “And if Dawson’s betrayal has anything to do with Vlad, we’re going to nail them both.”
“I want that picture, Quinn. I’m sure I’m not the only person who can testify to the fact that David Dawson didn’t have a tattoo when he went to North Korea. If I can plant some doubt that he perished in North Korea, maybe the CIA can start looking into Belinda Dawson’s finances. There might be an offshore account or some other irregularities, but it starts with that photo.”
“We can’t just steal the picture. We’ll have to stage it as a break-in, and we’ll have to do it at night. God knows how many butlers, housekeepers and gardeners Belinda has around the house during the day.”
“Tonight. We do it tonight.”
“She’ll know it’s us.”
“I don’t care. Let her suspect. I’m only too happy to strike some fear into her heart—and David’s.” Crossing her arms, she hunched her shoulders. “I can’t believe he turned on me, after everything we went through together.”
“You know what I think?” Quinn put the car in gear and drove out of the parking lot. “I think if he had been successful in seducing you, he would’ve tried to lure you to the dark side with him. As devastated as I’m sure he was when you rejected him, that’s not what pushed him over the edge. Guys like that are bad seeds. He would’ve turned anyway if the price was right.”
“You’re probably right.” She tapped on
the window. “Where are we going?”
“I’m starving. We’re going to get something to eat before returning to the motel and changing into something more comfortable for breaking and entering.”
“Can we please go out? I doubt we’re going to run into Belinda Dawson at dinner, since she seemed to have something simmering on her stove when we were there. Nobody else knows we’re here. Nobody knows I’m anywhere…just like David.”
“I’ll meet you halfway. We’ll pick up some soul food and eat at the hotel pool.”
“I guess it’s better than fast food in the room.” She turned toward him with a tilt to her head. “What exactly is soul food?”
Quinn quirked his eyebrows up and down. “Allow me to introduce you to its delights.”
* * *
THE DELIGHTS OF soul food included lots of deep frying and lots of carbs. Rikki sucked down a big gulp of disgustingly sweet tea and curled her legs beneath her on the chaise longue by the pool. She yawned. “So, soul food is a sleep aid, because the only thing I want to do right now is close my eyes and drift off.”
Quinn rubbed and then patted his flat stomach. “Pretty good, huh?”
“Delish.” Rikki eyed his trim waistline.
How did he manage to put away all that food and still look like a Greek god? She’d pay him the compliment, but she didn’t want to get caught up in a discussion of food and weight and start Quinn wondering about all her new soft spots. He seemed to like them, anyway.
She pressed her hands against her own belly and the butterflies taking wing there. She’d tell Quinn about Bella as soon as she got the proof on David. Maybe she’d even let someone else take over the investigation, as long as the CIA didn’t want to take her into custody.
Rikki swept up the used napkins on the table between them and shoved them into one of the plastic bags. “I have my clothes all picked out—black leggings, black T-shirt and a pair of sneakers for a quick getaway.”
“And I have all my burglar tools. Should be a cinch to break in there—as long as she doesn’t have an alarm system. If she has one of those, it’ll take a little longer.”
Rikki clambered out of the chaise longue and dumped their trash in the bin by the gate. “I should be able to tell if she does have an alarm system and if it’s armed.”
“If it is, I got that covered.” He held up a deep-fried ball of something. “Do you want the last one?”
“Knock yourself out.”
They returned to the room and changed into their night-crawler outfits.
Standing before the mirror, Rikki wound the elastic holder around her ponytail once more. “Wish we had your motorcycle for this little assignment, or better yet, my silent electric scooter.”
“We’ll be fine. I’ll leave the car by the park again. We’ll get in there, swipe the picture and get out. Who knows? Belinda may not even notice it’s missing for a day or two.”
“Wait.” Rikki spun around from the mirror. “I thought we were going to steal a few more things to make it look like a break-in.”
“Do you really want to steal some woman’s jewelry and small electronics?”
“You don’t seriously expect me to feel some sympathy for a traitor and his wife, do you?”
“I’m not a thief.”
“It would be extremely odd for a burglar to steal a framed photograph only. You’re the one who made this point earlier.” She wedged a hand on her hip. “Why are you having an attack of conscience now?”
“Okay, we’ll take a few other things and then return them to…someone.”
“Whatever you want to do. We should return them to the CIA for the secrets David probably stole.”
“We’ll figure it out.” Quinn hitched a small backpack over one shoulder. “Are you ready?”
“Oh, yeah.”
They didn’t say much on the way over, and Rikki focused her private thoughts on David and his behavior their last year together. He had changed, had become less open with her. She’d written this change off to the awkwardness after his declaration of love for her and his anger when he found out about her and Quinn. Because he had been angry. Had that set him on this course?
No. He had to have arranged the North Korea trip prior to Dubai. Quinn was right. David already had the inclination to betray his country; whether that came from greed or disagreements with the country’s policies, she couldn’t tell, and it didn’t matter anyway. There could be no valid excuse.
Quinn parked the car and cut the engine. “Do you think we should give it another hour? It’s not much past midnight. What if she’s a night owl?”
“She’s not. She turns in early. I remember David telling me that—it was supposedly another point of contention between them, since he liked to stay up late and sleep in when he wasn’t working, and Belinda preferred the opposite.”
Quinn snorted. “Yeah, because that’s a good reason to cheat on someone and end a marriage.”
“That was probably all a lie. He probably just wanted to compromise me to use me. I’m sure he never loved me. If Belinda is okay with his deceit and is happy to spend his blood money, they’re made for each other.”
He clasped the back of her neck and squeezed it gently. “It’s not you. Dawson would’ve betrayed any partner.”
“Okay, let’s do this.” She dropped her head to the side and kissed his wrist.
The night air was heavy with the scent of magnolias from the park, and the sweet smell reminded her of the fragrant blooms in Jamaica and nights spent cradling Bella in the rocking chair in Mom’s garden.
What was she doing here? She yearned to be back with her baby. She yearned to tell Quinn all about their daughter.
But she couldn’t live her life as a dead woman.
It didn’t take long for Quinn to break into Belinda’s house. In an odd stroke of luck, Belinda hadn’t enabled her alarm system.
They stepped through the side door and Rikki held her breath as she looked around the living room where they’d been earlier this evening. Low lights from beneath the kitchen counters gave a soft glow to the room, and they didn’t even have to use their flashlights. What a nice welcome.
Rikki made a beeline for the built-in bookshelf and tripped to a stop. With her gloved fingers, she tapped the empty space that David’s picture had occupied.
She gestured to Quinn, still hovering by the door.
He ducked next to her, and she whispered in his ear, “The picture is gone.”
He swept the light from his phone across the photos on the shelves and swore softly under his breath. “I don’t like this, Rikki. We need to get out.”
Her heart jumped, mimicking the urgency in his voice. “Wh-why?”
“It’s all too convenient for us—the alarm system, the lights and now the missing picture. It’s almost like she expected us.”
“Then why would she make it easy for us?”
“To lure us in.” He grabbed her arm. “We’re done here.”
Rikki twisted her head around for one last, longing look at that bookshelf as Quinn pulled her toward the side door—the door that hadn’t been double-locked.
What had Belinda done with that incriminating picture? Had she realized the stupidity of showing it to a couple of CIA agents? Belinda had probably figured nobody would do a before-and-after comparison of her dead husband’s chest.
Quinn hustled Rikki through the side door, and eased it closed. As soon as the door clicked, Rikki heard another click.
“Get your hands up where I can see them.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A shot of adrenaline pumped through Quinn’s body and he dropped to the ground, making a grab for Rikki’s legs to take her down with him. But Rikki was two steps ahead of him, already on the ground and army-crawling toward the back of the house.
A beam of light swept the space
above them, bouncing off the door they’d just passed through.
Staying low, Quinn lunged around the same corner where Rikki had just disappeared. His gun dug into his ribs. He left it there. Although any cop worth his salt would’ve lit up the scene by now with more than just a flashlight, Quinn couldn’t be sure that the Savannah PD didn’t have them at gunpoint. It could very well be some rookie cop on the other side of that click.
Whoever it was hadn’t given them a second order. He probably couldn’t see them with the clouds wafting across the crescent moon and no lights illuminating the side of the house. That was another convenience Belinda had afforded them. She might have lured them to the dark side of the house, but she’d also just given them an advantage.
Neither of them spoke, but Quinn could hear Rikki’s short spurts of breath as she dragged herself up to a crouching position.
She jabbed his shoulder and pointed to the fence.
A semicircle of light awaited them on their way to that fence, but Quinn didn’t want to give their pursuer a shot at them once he rounded the corner.
He shook his head at Rikki and jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the stealthy rustle behind them. A seasoned cop would’ve called backup by now, but Quinn couldn’t be 100 percent sure that Belinda hadn’t called the police, and he didn’t want to risk tangling with a member of law enforcement—especially since he and Rikki had been caught red-handed breaking and entering.
A body of water to his left caught a glimmer of light from the slice of moon as it emerged from a rolling cloud cover. Quinn tugged on Rikki’s pant leg and tipped his chin toward the pond. Even if they made a splash going into the water, the man with the gun wouldn’t be able to get a clear line of sight on them—not like he would once he came around that corner with his flashlight.
Rikki didn’t need any encouragement from him. On her hands and knees, she crawled to the edge of the pond and slipped in headfirst.
Quinn rolled in after her and kept his body flat. The pond had enough water to cover them, but only if they stretched out their bodies and kept low. Now all they needed was a couple of reeds to poke up above the surface of the water to breathe.
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