Dead and Gone

by Tina Glasneck

  “Dude, I told you not to talk to the guy.”

  Alex’s eyes fluttered shut for a second as he recognized the voice of Agent Jacob Wilde from the ATF on the other end of the phone.

  “It didn’t go exactly as planned.”

  “That’s the fucking understatement of the year. Your boy’s hit the highway.”

  “What?”

  Bitter disappointment descended on Alex like a lead weight. He rubbed a hand across his eyes.

  “Yeah, that’s right. After they left the bar, Honeywell packed up his shit and struck out for parts unknown. I thought you’d want to know.”

  “And you just let him go?”

  “You heard Stone. He’s not a target.”

  “Fuck,” Alex growled, his headache reasserting itself. Exhaustion set in.

  “No shit, Batman. Anyway, if I were you, I would hightail it out of town before your little stunt gets reported to Stone. He’s going to go ballistic when he hears you disobeyed his direct orders.”

  “I’m not worried about him.”

  “You should be. He may be a douche bag, but don’t underestimate his political clout.”

  Alex slammed the phone down on Luka’s desk.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  “What is it?” Luka asked.

  “Honeywell’s taken off. He left last night after the scene at the bar.”

  Luka pushed back his chair and swore.

  “Perfect. He’s got a twelve-hour head start.”

  “We don’t even know where he’s going.”

  “I wonder if we could get some information on the vehicle he left in.”

  “That was Wilde. The ATF isn’t going to help us.”

  Alex sighed as he considered the disastrous turn of events. He’d fucked up. It was his fault Honeywell had slipped through their fingers. What would he tell Abby?

  How long could Honeywell hide?

  “What’s done is done.” Luka’s shrug was philosophical. “I think we should continue to dig into the hit-and-run. Maybe we can find evidence linking him to Lisa’s death and Kayla Miller’s disappearance.”

  “What good does it do us if we can’t find Honeywell?”

  Alex released a long, slow sigh.

  At three in the afternoon, his cell phone rang again. This time he did recognize the number.

  It was his boss, Captain Lewis. And Alex definitely did not want to take the call.

  30

  Jill missed Alex. In the aftermath of Jamie’s death and the dissolution of the affair, it was as if the scales had fallen from her eyes. If any anger remained, it was hers alone, she realized as she considered what she had risked for Jamie and what she would have lost in Alex. Vanity. The affair had been born of vanity, and she vowed not to risk what she had so unwisely again.

  Their planes could have crossed in the air as Alex flew back to Seattle and hers landed in San Francisco. It seemed unfair that they couldn’t overlap by at least a night. With Jamie out of the way, their relationship was back on track. Clean. Simple. Just the way she liked it.

  Now as she stood center stage in front of hundreds of people, basking in their thunderous applause, she decided life didn’t get much better than this. As one of the featured speakers for the WebNOW conference, she had just given her third demo. The first two were standing room only, and the conference organizers had quickly added a third. She would bet anything that ZyraNet’s stock had risen over the past few hours.

  With a gracious nod, Jill surrendered the floor to the moderator of the panel. She threaded her way through the crowded conference center to the bar. She’d been guzzling water all day to help keep her voice in prime condition, and now she was ready to celebrate with something a little stronger.

  “Dirty martini with three olives, please,” she said as she caught the bartender’s eye.

  With a quick nod, he set to work on her drink, and Jill smoothed her long hair away from her face. Public speaking was a rush. Engineering was a solitary job that typically attracted introverts. Unlike most of her counterparts, she reveled in the opportunity to show off her work. The response to her demo was beyond gratifying. This kind of public recognition was like a drug, and she wanted more.

  “Here you go,” the bartender said, bringing her back to earth.

  Angling her body toward the bar, she slowly stirred the olives around the glass and savored the high. Glancing up into the mirror behind the bar, she took a sip of her martini.

  “Jill Shannon?” a voice sounded beside her. It was more of a statement than a question, and she swung her gaze to the man facing her. He extended his hand. “I’m Peter Young, columnist for Tech Savvy magazine. I caught your demo. Pretty impressive stuff.”

  “Thanks,” she said, shaking his hand, voice raised to be heard above the din.

  “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “Got one already, and by the way, they’re free.” She inclined her head toward him, as if imparting a secret.

  “Guess that makes you a cheap date,” he said, with a mischievous glint in his eye.

  “Cheap, but not easy.” She found his slightly rumpled, boyish appearance appealing. His hair was medium length, angling in toward his face in a shaggy cut that mimicked the hip crowd of the day. The style was a little young for him, but he managed to pull it off. His hazel eyes sparkled with humor. With a leather satchel slung across his body, and a rumpled button-down shirt, he looked every bit the part of the reporter.

  Signaling the bartender, he ordered a beer before looking back at Jill.

  “I do profile pieces for the magazine, and I’m thinking that you would make a terrific piece.”

  The provocative phrase dripped with innuendo. But instead of being offended, Jill smiled, enjoying the banter.

  “What would be involved?”

  “I’d like to interview you. A stunning, intelligent woman would be a nice change of pace from the balding, geeky types I usually get stuck with.” He paused, taking a sip from his beer bottle. His intense gaze was locked on her face, and she felt her cheeks warm under his careful examination. “What do you say?”

  His smile was contagious, and she considered his offer for roughly two seconds. Just enough time to make up her mind.

  “It’s a deal.”

  “Cool.” He clinked his beer bottle against her glass and tipped a salute. “Let’s finish our drinks and get out of here.”

  Jill stiffened, placing her glass back on the bar, as she eyed him warily.

  “Go where?”

  “Somewhere quieter. It’s too loud in here,” he explained, his smile almost apologetic. “Besides, I’ll want to take some pictures of you for the piece.”

  He had a point. The crowd noise buzzing around them was overwhelming. The high ceilings of the cavernous room made the situation worse, and they were on the verge of yelling to be heard. The strain from all of the talking she’d done over the past few days had left her voice hoarse.

  “Look, I know how this sounds, but the magazine set me up with a suite. It’s at the Hilton, just a hop, skip, and a jump through the skywalk. No funny business. I promise.”

  “Scout’s honor?” Jill managed to suppress her grin but couldn’t keep the playful edge from her voice.

  “Scout’s honor,” Young said, flashing the three-fingered boy scout salute.

  Jill took a long moment to consider the offer. Being featured in Tech Savvy would be quite a boon for her career. The publicity wouldn’t hurt the company, either. Draining the martini from the glass, she ate the olives one at a time.

  “You’re on.”

  “You ready?” Peter asked, not quite meeting her eyes.

  “Sure, let’s go.”

  The crowd thinned as they left the main conference area and traversed the skyway to the Hilton hotel. Even though she was in high heels, her long strides kept pace easily with his. They traded small talk about themselves. How long had he been at the magazine? What had he done before that? How long had she been at ZyraNet? The f
riendly chatter put her at ease as she followed him to his suite.

  Peter swiped his access card, and Jill heard the weighty click of the door mechanism unlocking. She half smiled as she followed him inside.

  The suite was open and airy. The furnishings were tasteful, and the coffee-cream-colored walls made the room seem larger than it was. The faint smell of lemon furniture polish hung in the air—compliments of the cleaning crew, no doubt. Peter removed his satchel and tossed it on the couch as he crossed the room, heading toward the minibar.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked.

  “Got any wine in there?”

  Opening the door to the small refrigerator, he rummaged around. She could hear the clinking of bottles as he took inventory. “Bubbles or no?”

  “No bubbles.”

  Peter pulled out a small bottle and twisted the cap off. With his back turned toward her, she couldn’t see his face, but she could hear the smile in his voice as he poured the wine into the glass.

  “I can’t vouch for the vintage …”

  “Thanks,” she said, taking it from him. She settled into a white armchair at the end of the long coffee table and waited. He fixed himself a drink and sat on the couch. Pulling his laptop out of his bag, he placed it on the coffee table and waited for it to boot up.

  “Have you ever been interviewed before?” There was a warm curiosity in his eyes as he smiled at her. She tried to guess his age. Early thirties maybe?

  “Once in college. I was on the track team and broke some state records.”

  “Impressive. Still run?”

  “As often as I can.”

  “I’m more of a team-sports guy myself,” he said, his eyes remaining riveted on the monitor. “Would you mind if I captured the interview on the webcam? I may want to upload parts of it to the magazine’s website as a teaser when the piece is in print.”

  Again with the disarming smile, Jill thought as Peter’s lips parted, revealing a row of even white teeth. Somewhere an orthodontist had built a swimming pool in exchange for that perfect smile. Jill shifted in her chair, taking a sip from her wineglass. Liquid courage to settle her nerves? The wine burned its way down her throat, and she set her glass on the table, out of the range of the webcam.

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Great, let’s get started.”

  Peter asked background questions at first, about her education, her career path. Jill felt herself relax as she answered. She rested her back against the pillow, hands smoothing her skirt over her bare knees.

  The next round of questions centered on the new technology that Jill had demoed. How long had it been under development? When was it due to release? What was Jill’s role on the team? Jill found herself smiling and leaning in toward him as she answered. A gentle warmth spread through her. Was it the wine or being in the spotlight that contributed to the glow?

  Peter wrapped up the interview with a barrage of questions about what it was like to be a female at the top of her game in a male-dominated industry. She laughed as she answered, revealing that she had never found her gender to be a drawback. Her work spoke for itself, and she was considered one of the sharpest engineers on the team, earning her respect the old-fashioned way. Sure, it sounded a little like bragging, but what the hell. She was damned good.

  “You know, I interviewed a colleague of yours.”

  “Oh yeah? Who?” she asked, meeting his glance.

  “Jamie King, last year. He won the Millennium Technology Award, right?”

  “He did.” Jill’s lips twisted into a frown as her thoughts turned to Jamie and his broken body in the snow.

  “Kind of full of himself. Still, it’s a shame what happened to him.” Peter paused, and she could feel his eyes on her. “What was that?”

  “What?” she asked, pressing her lips together and focusing on his face. He studied her intently.

  “That look?”

  “Nothing. Really.” She forced a laugh and averted her gaze. “Is that it? Are we finished?” she asked, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. She raised a hand to the collar of her blouse and tugged it away from her skin. Was the air conditioner on the fritz? The room felt too warm, and her cheeks burned. Picking up her wineglass, she took another sip. The cool liquid felt silky on her tongue.

  “Almost. All I need is a few stills and we’re done,” Peter said as he rose from the couch. Jill set the glass down on the table and pressed her hands to her cheeks. Her mind felt a little fuzzy around the edges. Perhaps she had drained the martini at the bar too quickly. The wine definitely wasn’t helping, and she hadn’t eaten since lunch. Given that the sky was now dark, city lights twinkling through the window, it must be getting late. Too much to drink on an empty stomach was unwise, she mused.

  Moments later Peter returned with Nikon in hand. She sat straighter and peered into the camera lens, forcing a smile. The flutter of the lens sounded as he cranked off some shots.

  “Come on. You can do better than that,” he said. One eye peeked out from above the camera, and she could hear his smile.

  Jill tried to relax and smiled again, this time wider. But there was something wrong. She felt dizzy. Peter moved closer, his fingers working the lens, bringing her into focus as he squeezed off a few close-ups.

  “That’s better,” he said. His voice was quiet as he stepped near, his leg brushing hers as he squatted in front of her. She jerked her legs to the side. If he noticed her recoil, he showed no sign. “Nice. Just a few more.” His voice was softer still, almost soothing, as he pointed the lens at her. Again she heard the whisper of the shutter. Her head swam.

  Snapping her eyes wide open took an effort, and she focused on his face, which seemed abnormally large. He loomed only inches from her. Peter was staring at her in the strangest way, and her skin began to prickle at the back of her neck. He let the camera dangle from its strap. His fingers gripped her bare thighs, just above the hemline of her skirt.

  His touch seared her on contact, and Jill shrank back.

  “Are you feeling okay?”

  Peter’s voice sounded concerned, but she sensed something else, something almost predatory, about the look in his eyes. Then he smiled. Those perfect teeth looked less perfect now. His narrow lips pulled back, revealing sharp canines that looked more like a wolf’s than a human’s.

  She shook her head. This was crazy. Her imagination was getting out of hand. Was she seeing things?

  “I think I need to go.”

  His smile widened, and in a quick, jarring movement, he rose.

  31

  Jill stood too fast, swaying precariously on her high heels. Peter had his back turned and was fiddling with the laptop as she took a sideways step. The movement was disorienting, and she blinked hard to clear her vision. What was wrong with her?

  “You might want to lie down,” Peter said without glancing up.

  Jill’s confusion deepened. He seemed disturbed by none of this. Anyone sane would be bringing her water, calling a doctor, offering some helpful advice. He seemed to expect …

  What the hell was this? Her eyes strayed to the coffee table, zeroing in on the wineglass. Had he put something in her drink? Whatever was going on, she was sure of one thing: it was time to leave.

  A few more fumbling steps got her closer to the door. Her heart was fluttering wildly in her chest, and her breathing felt ragged. The door seemed a million miles away, but she stayed focused on it as she ordered her legs to move.

  “Hold on, now. Where do you think you’re going?” Peter caught up to her in a few quick strides.

  “Gotta go,” she said, trying to push past him.

  “I don’t think so, sweetheart. Maybe you should sit for a while. You don’t look so good.”

  Something really wasn’t right. She fought the fuzziness that nibbled at the edges of her mind. Pulling in a few deep breaths through her nose, she tried to clear her head. If she stayed any longer, she might not be able to leave. Finally, the room started to shimme
r, and she felt a weakness in her knees.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m okay,” she managed. “Sleepy. I think the wine—”

  “Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll get you a cool cloth for your head?” He gripped her elbow, and she followed him toward the center of the room. Her eyes tracked his every movement. To the casual observer, it might seem that he was guiding her. But as his fingers dug into her flesh, there was no mistaking his intent.

  There wasn’t an escape route in sight as she stumbled toward the couch. Her head spinning, she tried to stay focused on the objective. But with each passing second her limbs grew heavier. She sank into the cushions of the couch like a lead balloon.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Peter asked.

  Those were the last words that Jill remembered as she opened her eyes. Had she passed out? Her head still felt fuzzy as she took in her surroundings. There was a buzzing noise in the background that seemed to come into focus as it drew closer. Talking. She looked up to see Peter talking on his cell phone.

  Pushing herself up into a sitting position was not easy, but she managed it. Peter was standing behind the couch, watching her as he ended his call.

  “Sleeping beauty awakes,” he said with a slight smile.

  “What happened?” Jill raised a hand to her forehead, massaging the skin in wide circles.

  “I’m not sure. You said you weren’t feeling well, so I got you to the couch, and you passed out.”

  Jill tried to process her thoughts. Is that what had happened? Why couldn’t she remember? Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. She’d only had two drinks—the martini at the bar and the glass of wine here in Peter’s hotel room. Even rip-roaring drunk, she’d never blacked out. Something akin to panic stirred in her chest.

  “Can I get you some water?” he asked. The incongruity between the implied concern of words and the flaccid expression on his face puzzled her still further. She’d passed out. Why wasn’t he worried? As she watched his retreating back, she noticed he was wearing different clothes. He had changed into jeans and a T-shirt. His bare feet made no sound on the thick carpet as he ducked into the bathroom.