“You okay?” the driver asked, as Paul climbed in, breathing heavily.
“Yeah. I almost got mugged.”
“You need a weapon.” The cabbie, a middle-eastern looking man, grinned at him in the rearview mirror.
“I think you’re right.”
Back in his apartment, Paul dumped the envelope on his kitchen table and was relieved to see a bundle of cash fall out. When he counted the hundred-dollar bills, he realized Rathmore had shorted him $1,700. What the hell?
Disappointed, but still pleased to have another $8,300 to fund his makeover, Paul wondered how he should handle the shortage. He was tempted to mess with Rathmore’s files, let him struggle a little to explain himself in the interview. As he got ready for bed, Paul decided to let it go. Rathmore had paid $18,300 for the possibility of a better job, and Paul realized there were others just like him.
Chapter 14
Mon., May 8, 9:05 p.m.
Lara reacted first like a paramedic, kneeling next to the victim and pressing two fingers against Kirsten’s neck. She had no pulse. Christ. Lara flashed back to how she and Kirsten had worked together just that afternoon to shove a long pole into a bizarre door key. Now this vibrant young woman was gone. Lara tried not to think about the victim’s parents and how they would react to the tragic news. This time she would not be the one to tell them.
She spotted parallel burn marks in the V above Kirsten’s plunging neckline. Her roommate had been hit by a stun gun.
Her next reaction was pure civilian. She jumped to her feet, looked around in panic, and thought, Oh fuck, they’ll blame me.
After mentally replaying her heated encounter with Kirsten and realizing the cameras had caught it all, Lara’s detective training kicked in. She checked her iCom, then scanned the room in a slow rotation and took it all in. The body was near the door with no sign of struggle and no defense wounds that she could see. The killer had simply come to the door with the stun gun ready and hit Kirsten in the chest as soon as she opened it. Most stun weapons weren’t lethal even at the highest settings, but they could be, and Kirsten was clearly dead. Had her attacker smothered her while she was unconscious?
Why, for christ sake? Kirsten was annoying, but now that she was no longer a contestant, why would anyone come here and kill her? A realization hit Lara like a body slam. The assailant could be Bremmer, the shooter who’d followed her here. The son-of-a-bitch might be worried that she could identify him and now wanted to silence her. Poor Kirsten had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Fuck! Another death on her hands. Rage erupted in her chest and Lara wanted to hit something. She paced the room, trying to decide her next move. She had no choice but to report the body, but as soon as she did, the D.C. police would haul her in for questioning. When they discovered her Taser-which was on the video footage from yesterday morning-they’d keep her in lockup until she could hire a lawyer. That’s what she would do if she were assigned the case. As a detective, she’d also look for a better motive. Even though she and Kirsten had argued, Lara had no reason to kill her. She’d already beaten her in the Challenge, and Kirsten was scheduled to fly home in the morning.
Fighting back anguish, Lara accepted that the Gauntlet was over for her. She’d miss her round in the Puzzle while they questioned her, and afterward she’d probably be quietly sent home with the others who’d failed.
Lara made two decisions. One, she would hide her 9-millimeter, which no one seemed to know she had, so the police couldn’t confiscate it, and two, she would call the employment commissioner before she did anything else. If the killer really was his boyfriend, Morton needed to know Bremmer was out of control. And if anyone could or would keep her in the competition, it was the commissioner. She could still make trouble for him by telling the cops about the shooting incident at his house.
Lara didn’t plan to do that. She felt guilty, knowing she would make it harder for whoever investigated Kirsten’s death, but she would make up for it by looking for Bremmer herself. Lara spoke Morton’s number into her iCom, not trusting her shaky fingers to key it in: It’s Lara Evans from Eugene. My roommate is dead, and I think your lover, or whoever it was that shot at you, followed me here and tried to silence me. I think he killed Kirsten by mistake.
She scanned the text, decided it was fine and said, “Send.”
Morton hadn’t responded to her last message about smoothing things over with the director, so Lara had no idea when or if she would hear from him. How long should she wait? Lara decided to contact Minda Walters if she didn’t hear from the commissioner in the next five or ten minutes. The director would not be pleased, but she would want to be informed in advance.
While she waited, Lara dug out her all-purpose tool and her duct tape. She unscrewed the vent in the bathroom ceiling and taped the gun to the side of the metal pipe. Unless cops were looking for drugs, they wouldn’t search there. Anxiety built steadily as she fastened the cover back in place. How long would she be without the gun? Six hours? Twenty-four? Lara dug in her bag for her Mace, then changed into jeans.
She waited five minutes, checked her iCom even though it hadn’t beeped, then sat down at the NetCom. She looked at recent incoming messages, found the one Minda had sent that morning, and hit Reply. The message went straight to Minda’s hotel room/office, and after eight beeps, the director’s face appeared in the corner. She wore a silky shirt that looked like a pajama top but her tattooed makeup gave her a wide-awake look. Lara felt was sweaty and disheveled from her run.
“What is it, Lara? It’s inappropriate to contact me at this hour unless you have an emergency.”
“Kirsten’s dead. I came back from a run and found her on the floor.”
“Dear God.” The director’s hand flew to her face. For three seconds, she seemed stunned, then she kicked into program-director mode. “What does she look like? Has she been shot? Is she a bloody mess?”
“There are no obvious wounds. I think she might have been tasered.”
A moment of silence.
“If I had done it, I wouldn’t be calling you. It looks like random violence.”
“Have you called the police?”
“No, I thought you might want to handle it.”
“Stay in the room. I’ll make the call and handle the media.” Minda’s image disappeared. Lara thought it was odd that the director expected her to sit in a room with a dead body, but Minda knew all of their bios, including the fact that Lara had been a homicide detective. Her iCom beeped and she snatched it from the desk.
The commissioner’s face appeared in the small screen, so Lara tapped the Speaker option. “Sorry for the bad news. I just told Minda and she’s calling the police.”
“You need to keep your theories to yourself.” Morton spoke like a man used to making people jump. Lara didn’t like it, but she let him finish. “Richard Bremmer didn’t kill your roommate. That’s nonsense, so please don’t mention it to the police. It was probably Kirsten’s boyfriend or some guy she blew off.”
“I saw Bremmer in the back of the room at the orientation this morning. He either followed you here or he followed me. Someone asked about me at the hotel desk before I arrived. I think I’m in danger.”
Morton scowled. “I’ll get you some protection. It’ll seem natural after your roommate was killed.”
“Thank you.” Lara knew it was time to confront him. “The guy who shot you, he’s not really your lover, is he? There’s something else going on.”
“He is my boyfriend and there’s nothing nefarious. You spent too many years as a cop and now you’re paranoid.”