She said nothing, not sure exactly what point he was trying to make.
“Can you imagine that, Katrina? Taking blood from cadavers?”
With that, she realized where this was headed. It was as if he somehow knew that she’d snooped through Vladimir’s computer and discovered the truth about that woman in Georgia who’d turned up dead-short about three liters of AIDS-infected blood.
“Have you ever heard of such a thing?” he asked more pointedly.
“No.”
He smiled, but it wasn’t a warm smile. “Vladimir always trusted you, you know that?”
“We worked well together.”
“I always thought it was because he wanted to get you into bed.”
“So did I, until I saw a picture of his daughter. We look a lot alike.”
“Lucky you. I, on the other hand, don’t care who you look like. And I am far less trusting.”
“He told me.”
“Of course he did. Vladimir had a habit of sharing things he didn’t need to share. That’s why he had to leave.”
“He’s gone?”
“He had some vacation time coming. But that’s neither here nor there. What’s important is that you and I have to get past this trust issue.”
“I thought the Theo Knight hit was supposed to resolve all that.”
“It was.”
“So, what’s left to resolve? You found his car, didn’t you?”
“Right where you said it would be. As a matter of fact, I drove it over to Dr. Marsh’s house last night.”
“What for?”
“Theo had good reason to kill him. Thought I’d do my part to make sure the cops keep racing right down that rabbit hole.”
“I saw the news. Dr. Marsh is dead.”
“You bet he is. Deader than Theo Knight.”
Katrina felt chills. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that I know for certain that Dr. Marsh is dead.”
“So is Theo Knight.”
“Is he?”
“You think I’d lie about something like this?” she said with a nervous chuckle.
“Probably not. But humor me. Tell me exactly how Theo Knight went down.”
“Not much to tell.”
“I’m a detail guy. Let’s hear ’em.”
“I hid in the back seat, waited for him to come out from the bar when his shift ended. Put a gun to his head and told him to drive out west to the warehouse district. Found us a suitable canal. Told him to get out and walk to the edge of the water. And that was it.”
“You’re leaving out the best part. I want to know exactly how you did it.”
“Shot him in the head.”
“Silencer?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Which side of the head?”
“Back. One shot.”
“How close?”
“Less than an inch.”
“The end of the barrel touching his skull or not?”
“Uhm, could have been touching. Real close.”
He rose and walked across the room, straight toward her. Katrina didn’t move, but she felt her body tense up, bracing for something.
He stopped at her side, formed his hand into the shape of a gun, and pressed his finger to the back of her head. “Like this?”
“More or less.”
“At that range, the bullet must have exited through his face.”
“It did. Right through the forehead.”
He stepped away and nodded, but she could tell he didn’t believe her. In fact, she felt baited.
“That’s strange,” he said. “All the hits I’ve ever done with a.22-caliber, never once has there been an exit wound.”
“Is that so?”
“That’s the beauty of a.22. That’s why it’s the preferred weapon of professionals. Doesn’t have enough force to pass through the skull twice. It’s not like a.38 or a 9-millimeter, in the left side, out the right. A.22 goes in one side and bounces off the inside of the skull, ricochets around until it turns the brain to scrambled eggs.”
She fell silent.
“Are you absolutely sure that your little.22-caliber slug came out his forehead, Katrina?”
“Of course I’m sure. Maybe it never happened that way for you, but there’s a first time for everything.”
“Except the first one doesn’t count if there are no witnesses.”
“You expected me to off him in public?”
“No. But if I’m ever going to trust you, I expect you to do it in front of me.”
“Too late. Theo’s dead.”
“Then we find another.”
“Another?”
“Yeah.” His dark eyes brightened, as if this was what he lived for. “There’s always another.”
63
•
Jack returned home at dawn. He tiptoed past the bed, squinting as the first rays of morning sunlight cut across the room. Cindy stirred on the other side of the mattress.
“Where you been?” she asked, yawning.
“All over, checking things out.”
“I was worried about you. I tried calling you.”
He dug his cell phone from his pocket. The battery was dead. “Sorry. I’ve been unreachable and didn’t even know it.”
“Did you find out anything about Theo?”
“I think so. Go back to sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He watched her head sink back into the pillow, then lowered himself gently onto the edge of the mattress. The doorbell rang, giving them both a start.
“Now what?” he said, groaning.
“Probably a reporter. Ignore it, please.”
“I’d better check it out.” He took the long route through the kitchen, where he dropped his cell phone in the battery charger on the counter. The doorbell rang once more as he reached the foyer and peered through the peep hole. The sight of Katrina on his front porch kicked up his pulse a notch.
“Just a minute,” he said, then quickly returned to the bedroom. Cindy was out of bed and pulling on her blue jeans. “Who is it?” she asked.
“Katrina. That government informant Theo and I were dealing with.”
“What does she want?”
“I’m not sure,” he said as he walked to the dresser. He opened the top drawer, removed the trigger lock from his revolver, and slipped the gun into his pant’s waist. He pulled on a long, baggy sweatshirt to hide the bulge.
“Jack, what are you doing?”
“Don’t worry, she works for the government as a CI. I’m sure it’s fine. But with Theo missing and Dr. Marsh dead, we can’t be too careful.”
“Jack-”
“Just stay here until I say it’s okay to come out. And keep one hand on the telephone. If it sounds like anything is going wrong out there, you dial 911.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“Just stay here. I’ll be right back.”
He returned to the foyer, took a deep breath. She’s a government informant, he reminded himself, though as a former prosecutor he knew better than to put much trust in that. At the moment, however, he didn’t see a better way to find his friend. With caution, he opened the door.
“Can I come in?” she said.
With a jerk of the head he signaled her inside and let her pass. Then he locked up behind her and led her into the living room.
She took a seat on the edge of the couch and asked, “Are we alone?”
“Yeah,” he lied. “Cindy’s at her mother’s house.”
“Good. Because it’s time we talked.”
“I’m all for that. But first, Theo. Do you have the answer to my question-the album title?”
“I do.” She handed him a small slip of paper.
Jack recognized the handwriting as Theo’s, and the answer was exactly what he was looking for: Thank You for… F.U.M.L. (Fucking Up My Life).
He smiled to himself, then tucked the paper into his pocket. “All right. You just bought yourself a few more hours. But I want to know what’s going on.”
She took a seat on the leather ottoman, then popped back onto her feet. She seemed wired, and Jack sensed it was nerves, not coffee.
“I’m not sure where to start.”
“Why did you take my friend? I want the real reason.”
She looked away, then back, as if not sure how to answer even a simple question. “I’ve been undercover for almost eight months. You know that from our first meeting.”