While Nate remade the bed to make it look as if Edmondson hadn’t used it, Quinn began looking through drawers for the evidence their client was seeking.
“You’re not going to find anything up here,” Ananke said.
Quinn searched the closet before moving to the nightstand on the far side of the bed.
“I’m telling you, you’re wasting time,” she said.
“Hey, instead of the running critique, why don’t you make yourself useful and help me carry Mr. Edmondson downstairs,” Nate suggested.
“Sorry,” she said. “My union frowns on crossing lines.”
“Of course it does,” Nate said.
Since Edmondson wasn’t a large man, Nate was able to hoist him over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold and carry him out of the room on his own.
“That assistant of yours is coming along nicely,” Ananke told Quinn.
“I heard that,” Nate said from the hallway. “I’m not his assistant anymore. We’re partners.”
“Oh, right. I’d forgotten,” she called to him, then whispered to Quinn, “You’re just stringing him along, aren’t you? He’s far too young to be on his own.”
Quinn finished checking under the bed and rose back to his feet. “He’s older than he looks.”
Ananke glanced back at the hallway with new appreciation. “Is that right? Is he attached?”
“He is,” Quinn said. Nate was dating Quinn’s sister, though Quinn would have answered the question the same way whether or not Nate had been attached. As skilled and savvy as Nate had become over the last few years, Ananke would eat him alive.
“Too bad. But maybe I could change his mind.”
“Don’t even think about it.”
“So demanding,” she said. “Maybe I should set my sights on you.”
“I’m sure Orlando would like to see you try.”
There was no love lost between Ananke and Orlando, Quinn’s partner and girlfriend. He didn’t know why, other than it had to do with something in their past that Orlando never talked about.
“Tempting,” Ananke said. “But I wouldn’t want to intrude on another girl’s territory.”
“Why do I have a hard time believing that?”
“Well, Orlando’s territory, anyway.”
“Now you’re getting smart.”
“Been there, done that.”
He looked at her for a moment, not understanding what she meant. After deciding to ignore the comment, he packed up the duffels and did a visual check of the room to make sure everything was in order. Satisfied, he joined Nate and the late Samuel Edmondson downstairs in the kitchen.
The plan was to put the body in the trunk of the man’s Volvo. Quinn would then drive it out, with Nate hiding in the backseat until Quinn transferred to their vehicle parked a few blocks away. Before sunrise, the Volvo would be involved in a single-car accident along a stretch of road near the Canadian border patrolled by an understaffed sheriff’s department. The authorities would find only Edmondson’s torched remains and enough evidence to point toward a crash caused by driving under the influence. Quinn had already arranged for the results of any lab tests to support this conclusion.
Everything nice and neat with no problematic questions asked.
“Are you ready for your surprise?” Ananke asked as she strolled into the room.
Quinn tensed, his hand hovering on the bag that held his SIG SAUER P226 pistol.
“Loosen up,” she said. “Do you really think I would accept an order to terminate you? The last thing I want is your stupid girlfriend chasing me for the rest of my life.”
Nate, who’d had his back to her when she entered, twisted around. “Wait. Who’s getting terminated?”
“No one,” Ananke said, her flirty demeanor faltering. “I want to…ugh. Never mind. Just follow me.”
She marched past them into the garage.
Nate looked at Quinn. “What was that all about?”
Quinn shrugged. “You’re asking me?”
“So…do we follow her?”
“If we don’t, she’ll never leave.”
They crossed to the open door and looked into the garage.
Ananke was on the other side of Edmondson’s Volvo.
“What are you waiting for?” she asked. “You need to come over here.”
Sensing no immediate threat, they entered the garage.
As the two men came around the front end of the car, Ananke dramatically swept her arms forward, pointed at a hole in the middle of the garage floor, and said, “Ta-da.”
“What in the name of…?” Nate said, moving in for a better look.
Stepping in beside him, Quinn peered down the hole. The only thing visible was the top riser of a set of stairs. The rest was in darkness. He turned to Ananke. “What’s down there?”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t still be here,” she said. “I’m hoping money. How about you?” When no one responded, she sighed and explained how she’d discovered the trapdoor.
“And you didn’t go down why?” Nate asked.
“Because it was time to call you jackasses in. Figured you’d need to take a look anyway, so why not join you?”
Quinn lit up the hole with his penlight, but there wasn’t much more to see other than the floor at the bottom.
“Stay here,” he said to Nate.
“Seriously?” Nate said. “I want to see, too.”
“And what happens if someone shows up and closes the door on top of us?”
“We push it open?”
“Not if they lock it and roll the bike back on top.”
“What are the odds of that happening?”
“What’s the number one rule?” Quinn asked.
“Depends. You have, like, thirty of them.”
“Safety first.”
Nate narrowed his eyes. “That’s not even in your top ten number ones.”
“It’s implied.”
Nate growled his displeasure, but said, “Fine.”
“Are you two done?” Ananke asked. “Because I’m starting to regret I wasn’t given orders to take you out.”
“Hold on,” Quinn said.
He jogged back into the kitchen and fetched his pistol and sound suppressor from his duffel bag.
When he rejoined the others, he said to Ananke, “Down there, I’m in charge. Everything I say goes. Understand?”
She bowed her head a few inches. “I hear and obey.”
“See that you do,” he said. “I’m going first. Wait here until I give you the okay.”
At the bottom, he found a switch where the stairwell met a dark hallway. When he flipped it, overhead fluorescents flickered on, bathing an underground passage in sickly blue-green light.
The hall ran back under the main part of the house for about twenty feet before opening into a darkened space. Quinn moved cautiously forward a few steps, and then stopped and listened. All was graveyard quiet. Even the air seemed not to be moving.
“Come on down,” he said.
A few seconds later, Ananke appeared at the bottom, also carrying a SIG, though hers was a P232.
As Quinn moved down the hall, he noted the faint but unmistakable smell of human waste. When he reached the end, he again motioned for Ananke to wait, and then swung his light through the dark room beyond. Linoleum tiled floor, a couple of metal tables in the middle, and floor-to-ceiling cabinets along the far wall.
There was another light switch just inside. When he turned it on, more fluorescents began to buzz and flicker, each tube illuminating at its own speed.
In addition to the cabinets along the back, more covered the walls on each side, breaking only for a door on the left. Along with the tables he’d already noted, there were two gurneys and a chair that seemed fixed to the floor.
“So?” Ananke whispered from down the hall.
Quinn continued scanning the room, not letting her question rush him. The only place anyone could be hiding would be in the cabinets or behind the other door, both safer to check with help.