Bennett nodded soberly, knowing hed reacted similarly the last time business required travel to the Hoosier state. Of course not. Im putting you on a plane to Los Angeles.
Her eyes went huge.
Isnt that where you were headed, LaShelle?
She swallowed hard, nodding.
Then thats where youll go. He held out his elbow again. Shall we?
Bennett paid cash for her ticket at the Virgin America counter. He walked with her to security, but before they parted, he handed her fifty dollars in cash. Here you go, he said.
She took the money, folded it, and put it in her front pocket. LaShelle kissed his left cheek. The kiss matched her voiceit was that of an angel.
Id like you to have this, too. Bennett pulled out the prepared package.
Just a little something to remember me by.
LaShelle looked at the monster truck T-shirt and laughed, shaking her head. Youre such a nerd, Big Bad Benny. He watched her shove the shirt inside her backpack and zip it closed. He sighed with relief.
Well. She looked around anxiously. I should probably go.
You should.
Is there some way I can reach you? Id like to pay you back the fifty as soon as I get settled.
Bennett shook his head. Everything Ive given you today is a gift, not a loan. If the nature of my gift should shock you, please be advised that its the real thing.
She frowned. You talking about the cash or the T-shirt? she asked.
Both. He touched her hand. Theres only one thing I ask of you.
LaShelle cocked her head. Whats that?
Bennett said the words to LaShelle that hed never once uttered to his own daughter. Never give up on your dream. Promise me youll never give up.
She looked surprised, but smiled. Okay. I promise.
LaShelle hugged him quickly and disappeared into the human cattle call that was airport security. He caught her eye one last time and waved good-bye. She waved back. Bennett retrieved his suitcase from the trunk of the Skylark before he headed to the car rental lot and the end of life as he knew it.
Josie hadnt yet used any vacation days for the year, so after her deadline Tuesday afternoon, she asked her city editor for the rest of the week off. I could really use a few personal days, she told Ken.
He looked baffled. To do /what/?
Personal stuff, Josie said, trying not to be offended that her boss assumed she had nothing to do. Of course, she wasnt going to correct him. Ken didnt need to know she planned to sleep, do laundry, go to the grocery, finally take Genghis in for his first free grooming, and spend some time with her sisterall the stuff she hadnt gotten around to because shed been having nonstop incredible sex with the man she loved.
Plus she wanted to have that man over to her place for dinner again Thursday night. He said he had a surprise for her.
You never take personal days, Ken said, still confused.
Yes or no, Ken. Josie put a fist on her hip.
Ken swung around in his desk chair and tapped on the computer, checking the newsroom staffing schedule. Yeah, sure. Looks like I can pull one of the interns off night cops and have them cover for you. You expecting anybody interesting to die this week?
She laughed. Im an obituary writer, Ken. Not a psychic.
Well, go have fun. Just swear to me youll be back Monday.
Josie rubbed her fingers on her temples and pretended to go into a trance. I see myself on Monday… back at my desk… gulping bad newsroom coffee… looking harried and overworked…
Thats my girl, Ken said.
On her way to her car, she had the most wonderful realization: Josephine Agnes Sheehan had a life! She was taking personal days! She was happy!
Josie smiled to herself, pleased that if she were to drop dead right that minute, at least thered be something to write about.
CHAPTER 19
Bennett had been in town for only a day when he decided to proceed. The furnished villa Milton had purchased for him more than two years prior had been adapted to meet his peculiar needs. The location was perfectset back from the road, hidden behind a gate and trees, and solidly constructed. In the last few weeks, Milton had arranged for the home to be stocked with nonperishables, booze, and every amenity Bennett could desire. Hed arranged for it to be cleaned and polished from top to bottom.
Milton had always been a stickler for detail. And Bennett knew that when this ordeal was over, his lawyer and longtime friend would manage the resultant scandal as well as anyone could. Milton would also be a comfort to Julia. What more could he ask for?
Bennetts attention went to the surface of the large dining room table, where hed laid out all the tools of his new line of work. Somewhere in the jumble of hats and wigs, glue-on mustaches, guns, Mace, a portable GPS, maps, his car rental agreement, stacks of cash, and other miscellany, Bennett knew he would find that cheap, no-frills, pay-as-you-go cell phone Milton had purchased for him. If his lawyer had to reach Bennett, this was the way hed do it.
To Bennetts shock, he turned on the phone to find he had three messages, one from Milton and two from an unfamiliar San Francisco number. He listened to Milton first: an Indiana woman named LaShelle Davis had cashed a million-dollar check from Bennetts account at a Los Angeles bank. Milton had approved the transaction, because everything seemed to be in order, but he needed to speak to Bennett as soon as possible.
Bennett smiled and thought, /Good for you, LaShelle/.
Then he listened to the other messages. The first one said, This is Gwen Anders. I have valuable information regarding Rick Rousseau. Then she gave him the unfamiliar number. The second message, also from Gwen Anders, advised him to disregard the first one. Bennett laughed. What kind of ridiculousness was that?
Bennett called the number. After sixteen rings, a man answered, and said it was a pay phone.
He tossed the cheap plastic cell phone back to the table, thinking that Gwen Anders had certainly picked the wrong time to play him for a fool.
There was a polite knock at her door. Because Gwen was expecting a FedEx delivery and was chatting on her cell phone, her guard was down. She opened the door, smiling.
Directly into the barrel of a handgun.
The man knocked the phone from her hand and stepped inside.
Pick it up. Then hang it up, the man whispered. Gwen did as she was told. Gotta go, Mom. Sorry. She snapped the phone shut.
Get inside.
Gwens body began trembling as her mind struggled to reconcile the aristocratic New England voice with the ridiculous appearance of her assailant. The man was of medium build, in cheap clothes, and it looked like he was wearing a fake wig and mustache, of all things.
She gasped. /Bennett Cummings?/ He kicked the door shut behind him. At your service.
But… Gwen didnt know if the realization should make her less frightened, or more so. I told you to disregard my message.
He flashed a cold smile while keeping the gun trained on her forehead. /Oh, God, what have I done?/ Gwen began to have trouble breathing.
This wont take long. Just give me your valuable information and Ill be gone.
Its nothing. It isnt even important, she said, her eyes darting to the gun and then to his face.
I beg to differ, Miss Anders. Cummings took a step closer. Its pure serendipity, and serendipity is always important.
Gwen frowned and shook her head. I dont understand…
When you called I was already on my way here. See how interesting that is?
Gwen tried to back away but bumped into a small hall table, knocking over a vase of fresh flowers. She jumped. Then she stared at all the broken glass and spilled water. If only she could grab a piece with a jagged edge… /Click./ The cold steel of the gun tapped against her left temple. She straightened.