Crimson Eve (20 page)
Her thoughts fuzzed. It took some doing to pull them back into focus.
. . . On the run to who-knew-where . . .
Carla’s mind blurred again. Her body settled further into the bed, gravity dragging her down, down.
. . . With no plan . . . No friends. . .
No . . . life . . .
Exhaustion rocked her, sang its siren song.
Carla tumbled into a dark, dream-haunted sleep.
I’m shaking all over. Gravity’s pulling me down so hard I wonder if I can ever get off this bed.
Today was the last day of school before the Christmas holiday. And my last day of work until after New Year’s. I went into the office around 3:00 as usual. Bryson wasn’t there. He’s been gone for a week. As for Mrs. My-Husband — I haven’t seen her for a long time. She quit coming to the office weeks ago.
Maybe she’s just avoiding me.
Jilke pounced on me the minute I walked in the door. He stood up and towered over me. “Sit down.”
His voice sounded so harsh. I was feeling tired already and in no mood to fight. I sank into my chair.
He pulled out the ledger I use to record our petty cash. I do it in pencil like he taught me, so I can erase if I make a mistake. Jilke shoved the ledger under my nose and jammed his finger on the figures for the current month. “I can’t believe you would do this. I’ve been going over these figures. You’ve been stealing money for the past five months.”
My jaw dropped. “Are you out of your mind?”
“
Don’t
get cute with me. You’ve been after more than just a job ever since you came here.” His eyes flicked toward Bryson’s office. “Well, you got it in more ways than one. I’ve sat back and watched it all go on, unable to stop it.
This
I can stop. I will not let you steal money from the very man who’s done so much for you.”
“I
didn’t
steal any money! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Then how do you explain this?” He smacked his finger against the page.
I leaned over the ledger, knowing everything would add up. It always did. And wouldn’t Jilke be feeling the fool in a minute. But as I looked at the numbers, I could see erase marks. Inflated costs for stamps and paper and other supplies. The numbers still computed, but it showed we’d spent ninety dollars more than we really had. I looked up at Jilke with widened eyes, then grabbed the petty cash box from inside my top drawer. It had just the amount of money the ledger said it should. Ninety dollars missing.
Panic shot through me. I stared at Jilke — with his smug faked indignation — and understood.
I shoved the petty cash box back in my drawer, my fear turning to rage. “
You
did this. You’ve wanted me out of here for months. Well, guess what, I’m not leaving. Bryson will never believe your little trick.”
“
Senator Hanley
believes it, all right. I spoke to him on the phone last night. He agrees you have to go.”
“I don’t believe that!”
He sat on the edge of my desk and leaned close to my face. “Believe what you want as long as you believe this — you’re
out
of here.
Forever
. Now get your stuff and be gone, or I’ll call the police to take you out.”
My face flushed hot. “You can’t get away with this! You’re lying to Bryson. As soon as I tell him what you did — ”
“Get out!” He stomped around to my chair and yanked it back from my desk. “Get out now. And stay out of Bryson Hanley’s life.” He grabbed my arms and pulled me up. I pushed him away.
“I’m going to tell Bryson. He
won’t
believe you!” Tears stung my eyes, and that made me all the madder. I didn’t want to give Jilke the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
“You
will not
call him, get that?” His voice fell to a whisper that sent ice running through my veins. “I don’t think you understand your situation. You’ve been stealing from a
state senator
. He’s got a few friends on the police force. Friends who would believe his word over yours any day. Count yourself lucky all you have to do is leave. I promise you this — you say
one word
about Bryson Hanley to anyone, and we’ll press charges. You want to have your baby in juvenile hall?”
One word
. He didn’t have to explain.
That did it. I couldn’t help sobbing. It’s one thing to pull such a dirty trick on me, but to try and harm my
baby
. All I could do was grab my purse and leave.
Four hours later, I’m still on my bed. I’m done crying for now, but my eyes feel like they’re going to burn out of my head. I still can’t believe Bryson would think I’d steal from him. That hurts me worse than anything. I
love
him! I would never take anything from him.
How
can he think that of me? No matter how well Jilke lies? And how will I ever see Bryson now? At
all
?
There’s no way I’m just sitting back and letting this happen.
No
way
. I’m going to talk to Bryson. Tell him what a lying little punk he has for a manager. Then we’ll see who stays in the office and who goes. Bryson loves me. He won’t let this happen to me. And he certainly would never let me go to jail.
He’s gone until after the new year. Somehow I have to hang on until I can call him.
Merry Christmas, Carla.
Two-thirty. Too late.
Tony pulled off Sprague into the parking lot of a strip mall and stopped in a space far from other cars. He turned off the engine and sat there, staring at nothing. He was past screaming curses. Past pounding the dashboard, the console. If he wanted to save his family, he had to keep his wits about him. He’d looked and looked. Done everything he could think to do. But he’d lost his target. Again. By now she could be miles away, headed anywhere.
With a deep breath, he pulled out the cell phone registered in his real name and called his boss. The line picked up after the first ring.
“Tony. About time. You’re pushing the hour.”
Tony clenched his jaw at the disdain in the voice. “Just want to tell you it’s done.”
“Really. Well, now, you’ve made my day. I was beginning to wonder if I had to come out there myself.”
“No need.” Tony focused across the parking lot at a couple exiting a store, the woman with a toddler boy in her arms. A rush of emotion deflated his chest. He couldn’t
wait
to see his son.
“What took so long?”
Tony dropped his head back against the seat. “Complications involving her work. I wanted to wait for the safest time. Now you can rest easy. She’ll never be found.”
A low chuckle filled his ear. “Ah, Tony. I knew I could count on you.”
Yeah, right.
Tony cleared his throat. “I’ve got some details to finish up here, then I’ll be on my way back.”
“Fine, take your time.” A long inhale — and Tony knew something was coming. “You’d have loved the way Timmy looked today, by the way. He wore a red sweatshirt to preschool that said ‘My dad rules.’ ”
Tony’s lungs went cold.
“And your wife was lovely in her black jeans.”
“You gave me until three o’clock.” The words pressed from Tony’s throat.
“Oh, no problem, you got it. I imagine your son’s happily playing games or napping now — whatever children do midafternoon. Still, I’m so glad you called. I was beginning to sweat.”
Tony’s fingers nearly bent the phone. Sending some underling all the way out to watch his family had been nothing less than a display of power. And absolutely
unnecessary.
“I’m coming home.” He ground out the response. “My family had
better
not be harmed, and completely unaware of any of this.”
“Or what, Tony?” Dark amusement writhed through the words. “You’ll tell on me? Expose me for all my sins? Don’t forget you have a few of your own.”
Wouldn’t matter if his own were exposed.
Nothing
would matter if he lost his family.
Tony opened his mouth to spit a reply, then bit it back. That wouldn’t help, not now.
“Gotta go. See you soon.” He clicked off the line.
For a moment he sat, empty gaze roaming the parking lot. He knew he’d catch up with his target again; already he had some ideas. Meanwhile his boss wasn’t likely to find out Car
la Radling still lived. After all, she was keeping herself pretty scarce. Still, he couldn’t take the chance . . .
With a defeated sigh, he punched in the number of his wife’s cell phone. When she answered, he would speak the dreaded words they had agreed upon long ago. The words he would say if his “CIA job” posed a sudden threat to her and Timmy. At the message, Robyn would immediately pick Timmy up from preschool, drive to the airport, and take the first flight to a friend’s house in San Diego. There she would wait — without calling him — until he contacted her.
“Hi, sweetie!” Robyn’s voice sounded in his ear. So unsuspecting. Tony almost changed his mind. He didn’t want to frighten her like this.
“Hi.” He kept his voice light. “Guess what, I bought a new suit.”
Silence. He could hear the shock, the unspoken questions tumbling through the phone.
Come on, Robyn, hang in there.
“That’s nice.” His wife’s voice trembled, and for a moment he was afraid she wouldn’t continue. “Oh, honey, um . . . someone just walked in my office. I need to go. Call you back, okay?”
“Okay. I love you.”
“I love you too.” The words choked. Then the line went dead.
Tony lowered his phone and caressed the keypad with his fingertips before folding the cover shut.
Just want to tell you it’s done
.
Paul Jilke hung up the phone and pushed back from his cluttered desk. Beyond his closed door he could hear other phones ringing, the voices of assistants and clerks. Bryson Hanley’s Seattle-based office, one of three in the state, was a busy place. Tomorrow it would be busier with Bryson’s presence. Friday, the US Senate was not in session, and Bryson would be home for a long weekend, meeting with voters.
Jilke swiveled in his black leather chair to gaze out the window at the Seattle skyline, his long fingers steepled. There’d been something in Tony Derrat’s voice during their conversation yesterday —something tainting his claim that Carla Radling hadn’t shown up to their meeting. Enough to make Jilke want to mention Tony’s son. Now this. Jilke didn’t believe a word of what the man had said today. Jilke had been around a long time, ever since Golden Boy Bryson had begun his climb to fame. He knew expressions, had learned how to look into a person’s eyes and tell if he was lying. And he knew voices. Like subtle body language, vocal tone could give away not only deception, but hidden agendas and half-truths.
Jilke would bet Tony had flat-out lied.
He laced and unlaced his fingers, feeling the dry rub of skin against skin. Understandable why Tony should lie today, but hardly forgivable. Jilke tightened his mouth. What could have gone wrong? The target was a mere unsuspecting woman.
Clearly, Tony was losing his touch.
Jilke sighed. He didn’t have time for this. Bryson Hanley’s campaign manager didn’t know the meaning of extra time. Every minute was spent toiling for the campaign. Hectic days, nights of little sleep. And it was only going to get worse.
But this was too important. Carla Radling could bring down everything he’d spent his entire life working for. And that
would
not
happen.
Pushing a curse through his teeth, he swiveled back toward the desk. Picked up his cell phone and dialed. He got an answer on the first ring.
“Yes, sir.”
“You still watching Derrat’s wife’s place of work?”
“Just like you told me.”
“Good. I want to know if she leaves early. And whenever she does leave, follow her.”
“Right. No sweat.”
Jilke clicked off the line and returned to work. Not five minutes later, his cell phone rang with the news. Robyn Derrat was in the company parking lot, making a beeline for her car.
Jilke slammed a palm against the desk.
I knew it.
His mind roiled with repercussions. For the first time real fear edged up his spine.
“All right, listen.” His voice was low and tight — a sign to the man on the line that he’d better follow his assignment
perfectly
. “She’ll be going to the preschool to pick up their kid. Stop them in the parking lot. Tell them you’ve been sent by Tony’s boss to take them out for ice cream. She won’t believe you, but whatever you do,
don’t
let them get away. And call me the minute you’ve got them.”
“No problem.”
Jilke smacked off the call, resisting the urge to throw the phone across the room. Fury settled deep in
his chest. Every thing within him wanted to call Tony Derrat
now
. If the man were here, Jilke would choke him with his bare hands. And enjoy every minute of it.
But no. He knew how to wait. He knew how to plan. When the wife and kid were captured —
then
he and Tony would have a nice little chat.
Brandon eased back in the PT Cruiser’s driver’s seat, knees spread, steering with one hand — the casual way he liked to drive when a customer wasn’t with him. But he hardly felt relaxed. All the way back to Spokane Valley his mind had spun questions about Carla-the-Crazy-Woman. One minute he thought she might be telling the truth, and the next minute he thought she was nuts.
If Brandon knew one thing, he knew women couldn’t be trusted. They could be all lovey one minute, downright insane, even dangerous, the next. He had the scars to prove it. He glanced ruefully at the crippled third finger on his left hand. Never healed right after the tendon below it had been cut almost through, even though he’d had surgery. The knife-wielding chick had been a girlfriend.
Still, Carla seemed different. Smart, first of all, and nice. Well, she could be nice if she hadn’t been so uptight. And she had a sense of humor. Brandon liked that.
He flicked on the blinker and moved to the far right lane on the freeway, preparing to exit. Hoping no one had discovered Carla’s car yet. Pretty big lot. Just depended on where the salesmen had met customers. Brandon figured the chances were fifty-fifty.
