There was no way she could fight back and win against these people.
Might as well mail it here, she thought. Maybe the flash drive would make it to Alan. Maybe they wouldn’t find out. And if they killed her, maybe he’d do what she said, release the information to the entire world and cause these homicidal assholes some embarrassment, at least.
It wasn’t much consolation.
By the time she’d finished at the post office and got back to the airport, she had an hour and a half before her flight on American to Houston. Time to check in. Time to become Michelle again.
In a restroom stall before security, she sat on the toilet, opened up the ruck, fished around until she found the jacket pocket where she’d stashed her Michelle driver’s license and credit cards. Switched those out with Emily’s. Took her Emily phone in its signal-blocking bag and stuffed it in the bottom of the ruck. Got out her Michelle phone and put it in her tote, taking it out of its signal-blocking bag to go through Security, because she thought that might look strange, going through the x-ray machine-a normal person wouldn’t have their smartphone in a bag in her purse. The phone was turned off, and it wouldn’t be out of the bag for long. She hoped it was enough.
The one in the ruck she could say was a spare, was a friend’s, was… something.
Hopeless.
One more time through Security. A long line this time. More time to get nervous. Just don’t think about it, she told herself. You’re Michelle. You’re going back to Houston to your apartment and your job. You haven’t done anything wrong.
One more time standing in a glass booth with her arms above her head.
She stepped out.
“Ma’am?”
She closed her eyes. Took in a deep breath and let it out. Turned toward the TSA officer standing by the x-ray conveyor belt.
He pointed at the ruck.
“You got a laptop in that bag?”
“No. It’s an iPad.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“We’re booked at Lotus. It’s just off Union Square.”
“Oh, that sounds lovely,” Caitlin said. She sounded distracted.
Tuesday morning. Michelle glanced up from her laptop. Caitlin stared at her phone, thumbs flying on its virtual keyboard.
Texting someone, it looked like.
“You’re scheduled for the CIAC convention in Anaheim,” Michelle continued. “That gives you an extra day to relax in San Francisco.”
“Wonderful.”
The chime of an incoming text. Caitlin smiled. She seemed to study it for a moment, then set the phone down on the coffee table.
“Sorry,” she said. “Just trying to set up a few things for San Francisco.”
“Oh? Anything I can help you with?”
“I don’t think so. Besides…” Now she focused on Michelle. “You seem to have enough on your plate right now. Is there anything I can help you with?”
Michelle flushed. “No, it’s… fine, really.” The last thing she needed was Caitlin asking questions about her problems. She wasn’t ready to make up some bullshit story right now. She could barely keep track of the lies she’d already told.
“If you want to talk about it, hon…” Caitlin looked at her with what seemed to be real warmth. “I know it’s been all about me and my problems since you started working here, but it doesn’t have to be.”
Michelle shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. The kindness made it worse. “Thanks,” she finally managed. “It’s just… it’ll work itself out.”
From the office, she could hear a muffled ringtone. “Lawyers, Guns and Money.”
Derek, on her Emily phone.
She started to rise. “Do you mind if I-?”
“Go,” Caitlin said, with her off-hand wave. A new text had come in, and she stared at her phone again, smiling.
“Emily, it’s Derek. Listen, has anyone been in touch with you from the DEA?”
Great, she thought. Just what she needed. “No, not yet.”
“Well, expect that they will be. They called me, trying to find you. I guess they went by your house and the restaurant yesterday.”
“I’ve been in transit,” she said.
“Good. I don’t want you talking to them without me.”
“Is there a warrant?”
“We’re not even close to that yet. Jeff’s been very protective of you, and as long as your finances are as separate as he says they are, odds are you’re going to be okay.”
“So there’s no warrant.”
“No. As I said-”
“Okay. Great.”
“Emily, listen, I’m convinced this is more about putting pressure on Jeff than it is about rolling you up in the indictment, but we shouldn’t delay this too long-we don’t want to give the appearance that we have something to hide.”
She exhaled a chuckle. She couldn’t help it.
“No. We wouldn’t want that.”
Helen called from Evergreen not long after.
“Hi. So. These two men came by? Earlier today?”
“I know,” Michelle said.
“Oh. They left cards. Should I…? Should I give them your number, or…?”
“That’s okay. I’m already making arrangements.”
A pause. “Um… I don’t really know how to say this… but… is the restaurant…?”
Would they close Evergreen? Would Helen and Joseph and Guillermo and everyone else still have jobs?
“It should be fine.” Of course, she had no idea if it really would be. And if Emily disappeared… what then?
“Tell you what,” Michelle said. “When you’re doing the payroll this week… pay everyone an extra week’s salary. Um, a week and a half if the receipts look good. Pay yourself two. Call it a bonus. In case something happens… well, in case something happens. Not that I think it will,” she added quickly. “It’s just a misunderstanding. Things should be back to normal soon.”
She doubted Helen believed that. Helen had lived in Humboldt long enough to know the kinds of things that happened when the DEA got involved.
“Okay, will do. I hope… I hope everything goes okay.”
“Thanks. It’ll be fine.”
After she disconnected, she wondered if this was the last time she’d ever talk to Helen. Wondered if she never went back to Arcata how long the restaurant would go on running without her, like a ship on autopilot before it ran out of fuel, or ran onto the rocks.
“Do you still want to take a look at the San Francisco donors?” Caitlin asked after lunch.
“Oh, right. Yes. That would be great.”
With everything that had happened, she’d completely forgotten about her plan to access the donor database, and as Caitlin logged them in on the desktop computer in the home office, explaining how it worked-“Click on this tab to get location. Here’s how to search by donation level. This field is type of donor, meaning person or company or organization”-Michelle quickly realized that it wasn’t as revealing as she’d hoped it would be.
Sure, there were some names she recognized, some names that she could make a pretty good guess at what they did, what their interests were. A few famous billionaires. Companies, ones that ran detention centers like Prostasis, others with the word “Corrections” in their title, companies that provided “security technology,” others that manufactured guns.
Law enforcement organizations. Prison guard and police unions. Rehab clinics and drugtesting companies.
If she took the time to go through the entire database, maybe she’d find out something useful, some shell company of the Boys, of Mexican cartels. But what good would that really do her? She already knew the Boys were involved because Gary had gotten her into this. And with the Boys came drugs. She didn’t need any more proof of that. She’d lived it.
And all these names? They also just confirmed what she already knew. Most of the people supporting Safer America were invested in the policies it promoted.
Follow the money.