The Deceived (13 page)

“Thanks,” Quinn said.

Next, he tried Orlando again. He was surprised she hadn’t returned his call. After all, she’d attempted to get ahold of him first. But it had been over twenty-four hours since he’d called her back. At the very least, she should have sent him a text message. It wasn’t like her.

Four rings, then “Please leave a message after the tone.” It was the same generic, prerecorded voice as before.

“Orlando, it’s me,” Quinn said. “What’s going on? Where are you? Call me. Doesn’t matter what time.”

Once he hung up, he held the phone in his hand for a few moments, staring at the display. He was thinking—hoping—she’d just been slow to answer and was already in the process of calling him back.

But the phone remained silent.

As he was slipping it back in his pocket, the feeling he was being watched returned. He looked around again. There seemed to be more people on the sidewalks now as some of the government employees got an early start to their evening.

Quinn slowly scanned both sides of the street, taking in every face.

Even then he almost missed her. She was standing on the other side of the road, tucked up against one of the trees in front of the Hirshhorn Museum. Not exactly hiding, but close enough.

As Quinn stepped onto the street and began walking toward her, he expected her to run. But she held steady, her eyes never leaving him.

“Hello, Tasha,” he said as he reached her.

“You
are
looking for her, aren’t you?” she said.

Quinn stepped in close, a smile on his face. “Who are you?” His voice was calm and low, but the stare he gave her was anything but friendly.

“I...I already—”

“You’re not Tasha Laver. I checked.”

“How? I mean—”

“Who are you?” he repeated.

She hesitated. “My name really is Tasha,” she said “But...but Douglas, not Laver. I... panicked in Houston. I didn’t know who you were.”

“You don’t know who I am now.”

Her eyes looked into his for a moment. “Are you looking for Jenny? Please tell me that’s what you’re doing. Tell me that you’re trying to help her.”

Quinn started to say something, but stopped. They were in the middle of a busy sidewalk, having a conversation anyone could hear. He looked out at the street. Several cabs were heading in their direction. He waved one down.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

He answered by putting a hand on her upper arm, squeezing tight, then pulling her toward the cab with him.

“FDR Memorial,” he said once both he and Tasha were in the back seat.

Tasha gave him a bewildered look, but said nothing, obviously getting the message that this wasn’t the time for conversation.

In the late afternoon traffic, the ride to the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial took nearly twenty minutes. When they arrived, Quinn paid the driver, then pushed Tasha out the door.

“What are we doing here?” she asked.

He squeezed her arm again, letting her know it wasn’t time yet, then led her into the memorial.

Unlike most of the other monuments in D.C., the FDR was low-lying and sprawling. Statues and red granite walls and waterfalls weaved in and out of the memorial, creating distinct areas that represented different eras of the Roosevelt administration. To most people, it was probably beautiful and inspiring. To Quinn it was useful.

He led her past the life-size images of FDR and quotes etched in granite until they reached the very end of the monument. There they found the last and the largest of the waterfalls. Rivers of water cascaded down from the top of the wall onto granite blocks, creating a hypnotic and, more importantly, loud display. Quinn moved in as close as he could.

“Why did you bring me here?” Tasha asked, raising her voice to fight the crashing of the waterfall.

He leaned into her so he wouldn’t have to yell, too. “Are you wearing a wire?”

“What?”

“A bug. A transmitter. Are you wearing one?”

“No. Why would I do that?”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and accessed the camera function. He selected the heat-sensing mode, then began scanning Tasha up and down.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Turn around,” he said. When she didn’t move right away, he added, “Now.”

While the phone was multifunctional, a built-in bug detector was not one of its options. Still, using the heat-sensing mode, he’d be able to identify any energy sources that might be powering a transmitter. Nothing on her body, but he did get a hit from her purse.

“Open it up,” he said, pointing to the bag.

As soon as she did, he stuck his hand in and started feeling around.

“Hey,” she said. “Those are my things.”

He pulled out a cell phone, then scanned the bag again. The heat source was gone. As he suspected, it was her cell.

He slipped his own phone back in his pocket, then spent several seconds examining Tasha’s. It looked all right. Cheap. One of those models cell phone companies gave away to increase sales. He popped open the cover and did a quick check for anything that shouldn’t have been there. It was clean as far as he could tell. But to be safe, he popped out the battery, then put the cover back on. He put the phone and the battery into the back pocket of his pants.

“That’s mine,” she said.

“Why are you following me?” he asked.

She glared at him. “Give me back my phone.”

“We’ll see. Answer my question first.”

She was silent for several moments. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“None of your business. Why were you following me?”

“You know mine,” she said.

“Do I?” he said.

“I just told you. I’m Tasha Douglas.”

“And last time you told me you were Tasha Laver.”

“I’m not lying now.”

“There’s no way I’m going to believe that until I check it out.”

“Okay,” she said. “I understand. Can you at least give me something I can call you?”

His eyes narrowed. “Jonathan.”

“Jonathan,” she repeated.

“Tell me why you’re following me,” Quinn said.

“I haven’t been following you.”

“Really? So you just happened to be standing on Independence Boulevard when I walked by?”

Her eyes darted away.

“And last night, in Georgetown? It was just chance we both ended up there at the same time?”

She tensed. “You saw me?”

Quinn just looked at her, waiting.

“I was already there when you got there,” she said. “I just didn’t know how to get inside. Breaking and entering isn’t something I usually do.”

“Then why were you there?”

“I was there because of Jenny.” It almost looked like she was going to cry. She covered her face with her hands as she took a deep breath.

“Because this Jenny was your college buddy?” Quinn said.

“No,” she said. “More than that. Jenny’s one of my best friends.”

“Really? That’s sweet,” he said, his voice flat. “Still doesn’t explain why you’re following me.”

“I told you, I wasn’t following you,” she insisted. “Don’t you see? We’re doing the same thing. We’re both trying to find Jenny.”

“Is that what you think?”

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Why are you following me?”

“Don’t you get it? Everywhere you go is another potential clue to Jenny’s whereabouts. And since I’m looking for her, too, those would be the same places I’d go.”

Quinn laughed. “That’s one of the most convenient answers I’ve ever heard.”

Her cheeks started to turn red, and her sudden anger spilled over into her voice. “So fucking what? Talking to someone Jenny works with seemed like a logical thing to do, to me. Unfortunately, when I went into the congressman’s building, they wouldn’t let me go up without an appointment. I was trying to figure out what to do when suddenly you came out.”

Quinn took a step back, preparing to leave. This was getting him nowhere except more annoyed. “If I see you again,” he said, “I won’t be as nice. Understand?”

“Please.” She took a step toward him. “I...I don’t have anyone left to turn to. No one else can help me.” She stopped for a moment and took in a nervous breath. “I tried to find her boyfriend, but he’s missing, too.”

Quinn paused and turned back toward her. “Maybe they ran off together and just didn’t tell anyone.”

“I know that’s not true. Jenny and Steven would never do that.”

Steven. Steven Markoff.

Quinn took a deep breath. “If you’re really Jenny’s friend, I suggest you drop it.”

“What?” she asked.

“You saw what they did to her house in Houston, and what happened to her apartment. These people aren’t just playing. They will kill you. Go home. You can’t do anything for her.”

For the first time, she started to smile. “You
are
trying to find her. If you were one of them, you wouldn’t have warned me.”

“Think what you want, just get the hell out of here,” he said again. “You’re only going to get yourself in trouble.”

“I can’t just let this go,” she said. “Jenny
asked
me to help her.”

Quinn stared at her for a second. “What are you talking about?”

She looked at him, her face serious. “Three weeks ago she called me. Said that she was in trouble and needed to leave town.”

“You didn’t mention this before,” he said. “You just told me she suddenly dropped out of communication.”

“I didn’t know if I could trust you.”

“And you can trust me now?” Quinn asked, his eyebrows lifting in disbelief. “You don’t even know who I am.”

“I’m not sure I do trust you, but I don’t know what else to do.” She looked down for a moment, then tilted her head back up. “When she called, I asked her if there was anything I could do. She said no at first, but then she changed her mind, and said she’d call me every two days to let me know she was all right.”

“And?”

“She kept to her word. For a while anyway,” Tasha said. “The last call I got from her was six days ago.”

“Was there something you were supposed to do if she didn’t call?” Quinn said, still skeptical.

“She said I should find Steven. Tell him what happened.” She paused. “But he’s gone, too.”

“So you’re trying to figure out where she is on your own?” Quinn asked.

“What else was I supposed to do?”

Quinn looked at the waterfall for a moment. Was she telling him the truth or just feeding him some bullshit? He was trained to think the worst, so there was no way he was going to believe her on the spot. But if she was lying, she was putting on a pretty damn good act.

“How did you contact each other? Did she give you a phone number?” he asked, looking for holes in her story.

“No. She always called me.”

“What about caller ID?”

Tasha shook her head. “The numbers always came up blocked.”

Quinn frowned, annoyed. “Fine,” he said.

“Fine? Fine
what
?”

He leaned toward her, his face stopping only six inches in front of hers. “Fine, we’re done. And this time I’m not suggesting it, I’m telling you. Go home.” Whether what she was saying was the truth or not, it seemed pretty clear she was going to keep getting in his way. It was a complication he didn’t need.

“Only if you tell me you’re trying to help Jenny. That you’re going to find her,” she said.

He knew he should just remain silent and walk away. But if he did that, she’d continue to be a problem.

He pulled Tasha’s cell phone and battery out of his back pocket and handed them to her. “I’ll find her,” he said. “Now don’t let me see you again.”

“There’s a reception tonight. Eight p.m. An art gallery opening in Georgetown.”

“An art gallery?” Quinn said into his phone. Peter had called him as he was riding in a cab back to his hotel.

“In Washington, even a gallery opening is a political event.”

“You’re sure he’s going to be there?”

“He RSVP’d.”

“Everybody RSVPs,” Quinn said.

“True,” Peter said.

“Give me the address.” It might turn out to be a bust, but it was Quinn’s best chance.

“You’ll need to get on the list,” Peter said.

“I’m sure you can arrange that.”

Quinn could almost hear the smile in Peter’s voice when he said, “Of course I can.”

CHAPTER

WITH THE RIGHT AMOUNT OF CASH, A GOOD HOTEL

can get you anything in a hurry. The Crystal City Marriott was no exception. After tipping the concierge a hundred dollars, the man seemed to take a personal interest in making sure Quinn had exactly what he needed.

By a quarter to eight, Quinn was dressed in a dark blue Brooks Brothers suit, white shirt, and a tie that was just nice enough to say he might have money, but not so garish as to stand out in a crowd. His overall look was conservative, successful, and confident. In a room full of politicians and D.C. insiders, he would blend in and barely be noticed.

Instead of a cab, Quinn had the concierge rent him a car for the night. He needed to be flexible. He wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to get a moment with the congressman at the gallery or would have to follow him afterward—all, of course, depending on whether the congressman showed up in the first place.