Most Wanted (22 page)

“I called
you
three times last night to see how you were doing. It’s one o’clock in the afternoon, and this is the first you get back to me? I’ve been worried about you.”

“Come on, now,” she coaxed, a honeyed note in her husky voice. “Be nice, Rom. I don’t want to fight with you. If I haven’t called sooner, it’s only because I was at the hospital with Amanda. Do you have any idea how difficult this is for me, watching what she’s going through? Can you even imagine?”

He was quiet momentarily. “No, I can’t. But you know I’ve done everything in my power—”

“Of course. I know that, and I’m grateful, I really am. But tell me again, what are you doing to protect her now, right this minute?”

“You hired Bill Flanagan like I told you, right?”

“Oh, yes. He showed up this morning. To say I wasn’t impressed is the understatement of the year. He reeks of gin! Reminds me of my father. There’s nothing I hate more than a broken-down old wino.”

“The guy hits the bottle, I’ll grant you that. But he’s one tough son of a bitch. Nobody gets past him.”

“I’m taking your word on him.”

“You won’t be sorry.”

“But is one person even enough? I mean, Amanda saw the whole thing. She could testify. That animal is going to come after her, I know it.”

“Is she awake? Has she said anything?”

“She seemed better a little while ago when I left.”

“That’s good. That’s a relief.”

“But I want her left alone. And I’m afraid that prosecutor is going to come back today.”

“I wouldn’t count on it. They’re busy doing other stuff.”

“Well, if she does, I don’t see how I can keep her away from Amanda.”

“Like I said, nobody gets past Wild Bill.” He paused. “Look, don’t worry. You’re worrying too much.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes. Amanda will be fine. I’ll come over there and guard her myself if I have to. And as for Melanie Vargas, look, if you really feel Amanda’s not well enough to talk, she’ll have to accept that.”

“I don’t know. She doesn’t strike me as the type to just roll over.”

“Don’t worry. I have it under control.”

She sighed. “I guess I should go back to the hospital to keep an eye on things.”

“That’s not necessary. Flanagan is there.”

“Where else do I have to go? I took care of all the funeral arrangements yesterday.”

“Where are you now?”

“At Saks.”

“You went all the way to Saks just to use a pay phone? Man, you
are
under stress!”

“I wasn’t about to use one on the street. Besides, I always feel better here. It’s a very calming atmosphere.”

“That’s so
you
, Nell. No problem in life a little shopping can’t cure.” He laughed.

“I suppose, since I’m here, I could find Amanda something to wear to the funeral.”

“Really? She’s well enough to go?”

“We’ll see. I’m hoping anyway. I can only imagine how much she’ll resent me if I don’t find a way to get her there. Years of therapy.”

“Kids.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Okay, so do your shopping, and then I’ll come over and we’ll have an early dinner, order in room service or something. You shouldn’t be alone right now. What’s the name of that place you’re staying?”

WITH ALL THE GROUND THEY HAD TO COVER, THEIR best bet was to split up. Randall would go to the hospital and check on Amanda Benson. Dan would head to Brooklyn to hunt down informants who might know Slice’s whereabouts. And Melanie would return to her office. Her nominal assignment was to collect the records they’d subpoenaed and scour them for leads on Slice, but she had her own agenda, one she didn’t reveal to Dan and Randall.

The security breaches on the Benson case troubled Melanie greatly. First the intruder in the basement stealing her evidence, then Slice getting to Rosario. How had he managed it? How did he even know where to look? She had to worry there was a leak somewhere, maybe in her office, maybe among the cops or agents. Maybe a sloppy, careless leak—or maybe an intentional one. Dan and Randall pooh-poohed her concerns. Fine, let them. She’d investigate and get to the bottom of this without them if she had to. She’d reached out and grabbed this case for herself, and she’d see it through to completion no matter where it led or what it took.

But acting completely alone, she recognized, was not an ideal strategy. Ferreting out wrongdoing or negligence in her own office or in the FBI was bound to kick up resistance. She needed backing from someone with juice. Her boss was the obvious choice.

With that thought in mind, she buzzed herself through the bulletproof door and hurried straight to Bernadette’s office, not even stopping to put away her briefcase. Shekeya was sitting at her desk, eating a Big Mac and fries, reading a dog-eared copy of
People
.

“She back yet?” Melanie demanded, out of breath, “I need to see her right away.”

Shekeya dipped a french fry carefully into some ketchup and chewed it slowly.

“Nope. Went to Washington. She got a meeting at Main Justice.”

“I know, but wasn’t she supposed to be in by now?”

“She don’t inform me of her every move.”

“Well, you booked her flight, didn’t you? Can you check it for me, please?”

“Your panties in a twist, girl. Can’t you see I’m eating?”

“Shekeya, it’s important.”

“So’s my lunch.”

Melanie folded her arms in exasperation, glaring at Shekeya.

“Don’t give me that look. The boss ain’t gonna come back any faster because you standing there with your face all ugly. When I’m done with my burger, I’ll check it for you. Now, get your hiney back to your office.” Shekeya shooed Melanie with a ketchup-besmirched hand.

Melanie sighed dramatically, but she had no choice. She turned and walked out into the hall. She knew Shekeya well enough to be confident she’d get the correct information in Shekeya’s own good time.

AN HOUR LATER SHE WAS SITTING AT HER desk scanning Jed Benson’s telephone records and thinking about how to get her hands on the sign-in sheet from the security desk downstairs when Bernadette rapped loudly on her open office door.

“Shekeya said you were looking for me, hon,” Bernadette said.

“Oh, Bern, I’m so glad you’re back,” Melanie said, hopes brightening. She really needed Bernadette’s help; it was a relief that her boss sounded so
nice
for a change.

Bernadette walked in and sat down across from Melanie in the guest chair. She leaned forward, her features arranged in a look of motherly concern. “I heard your witness was killed. Are you holding up okay?”

“No, I’m not. I really need to talk to you.”

“Oh, hon, I’m sorry I wasn’t around earlier. I’m sure you could have used a shoulder to cry on.”

“It’s not that, Bern. I’m worried about the case. We had two major security breaches in the past twenty-four hours, and I’m beginning to think we have a leak somewhere. I really need some advice on how to handle it.”

“A leak? What are you talking about? I’m sure your witness blew it herself by telling some idiot neighbor where she was or something.”

“No, Bern, Rosario was completely terrified. She wouldn’t have given up her location to her own mother.”

“People are stupider than you’d think. Do me a favor, check the phone records from her hotel room—
then
come back and tell me I’m wrong. I’ll bet you ten bucks there’s some call on there to some cousin in Queens who blabbed to the whole planet.”

“I really doubt it. Besides, Rosario’s murder wasn’t the only security breach. Somebody chased me in the basement last night, stole evidence from my purse—”

Bernadette laughed. “Yeah, I heard about that one. The security company complained, you know. I commend your nerve in going down to Dead Files so late at night. But next time be a little more careful with the emergency door, or we’re gonna have to start paying them overtime for investigating false alarms.”

“I didn’t just hear a noise and freak out, Bern. Somebody was down there. Valuable evidence is missing.”

“Melanie,” Bernadette said sharply, “the perpetrator removed cash from your wallet, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“So don’t give me partial information, miss, it’s misleading. The cash is key. Some janitor obviously stole your money, and in the process he took your evidence by mistake. He probably dropped it in a Dumpster last night on his way to score a few dime bags with your cash.”

“That’s it? You’re just explaining everything away without even investigating?”

Bernadette sighed. “Look, I understand you’re upset. It’s very traumatic when a witness gets killed. There’s a natural tendency to see it as bigger than it is, as the result of some wild conspiracy. But that’s just nerves talking. You want my advice? Calm down, do your work, and stop running off at the mouth with crazy theories.”

Melanie stared at Bernadette in dismay. She couldn’t believe that her boss wasn’t all over these security breaches, that she wasn’t helping her. Then it dawned on her that Bernadette had a huge conflict of interest here. Rommie Ramirez’s squad had taken responsibility for protecting Rosario last night. The crew-cut cop had left his post to respond to a drug call. Did Bernadette already know that? Did she fear that an inquiry might negatively affect her boyfriend, further damage his already troubled career? Would Bernadette allow personal feelings to influence her professional judgment like that? She was obviously head over heels for Rommie. But covering up something so significant would put
her
whole career at risk. Melanie respected Bernadette too much to believe that such a thing was possible. Yet she couldn’t deny that Bernadette was acting bizarrely nonchalant.

“Rest assured,” Bernadette continued, “nobody blames you for what happened to your witness. When you’re faced with a killer as smart and ruthless as this one, you’re gonna experience setbacks.”

“Rosario wasn’t a setback, she was a person!” Melanie said. “There’s a leak somewhere, and for all I know, her door was purposely left unattended. I think we need an inquiry.”

Bernadette’s eyes narrowed. “When you say something like that, I have a hard time deciding whether you’re stupid or just reckless. You want an inquiry, you say? Those things never go the way people expect, you know, Melanie. If I were you, I’d make damn sure my own house was in order before asking for one.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You want to know how the killer tracked Rosario down and whether there was a leak? Have you examined your own conduct? Were you careless with information? Isn’t it possible it was really
your
fault somehow, and not anybody else’s?”

Melanie fell silent, thinking about the address she’d put on the G-car authorization and never found time to erase, about her call to the grand-jury clerk, about her other actions in the past twenty-four hours that might have divulged Rosario’s location. What if it had been her fault? God, how could she ever live with that guilt? Her stomach sank. It must’ve shown in her face.

“Uh-huh, I thought so,” Bernadette said with a knowing smirk. “Well, I guess that’s why I’m here. To teach you greenhorns to look before you leap.”

“I tried to be so careful—”

“Of course you did. And if you let something slip, I’m
sure
it was an accident, hon. That’s my point, you see? Don’t start pointing fingers, because nobody’s perfect.” Bernadette stood up and moved toward the door. “Speaking of not being perfect,” she said, with a nod toward Melanie’s desk, laden with piles of unopened subpoena responses, “this desk is a mess. Clean it up before something else falls through the cracks, would you?”

“Okay.”

“And another thing. Romulado tells me Amanda Benson still is not well. So just stay away from there, okay? Focus on something else for a while. After all, you have plenty of other work to do.”

After Bernadette left, Melanie went over her actions in her head. She was certain she’d never divulged Rosario’s whereabouts to anyone outside her office. If someone from the office cribbed the address and leaked it, that person was complicit in murder. But she couldn’t be expected to anticipate someone else’s treason, could she? No, she was entitled to trust her own people. Only once she got comfortable with that did she begin to see that Bernadette had manipulated her. Bernadette had turned the tables, made her question her own conduct, distracted her. And left her empty-handed. No help on investigating the security breach, no additional staffing. She was determined to solve these murders, but she needed resources and proper support. She was starting to have a bad feeling about this.

MELANIE’S PHONE RANG SOME MINUTES LATER. “Hey, what’s up?” Dan said. “I thought it was about time to check in.” His voice cheered her up so much that it scared her.

“You always check in with the prosecutor every few hours?” she asked breathlessly.

“With you I do. You miss me?”

Playing this game with him was dangerous. She’d end up in way over her head with this guy if she wasn’t careful. She looked down at her bare ring finger, longing for the security of her wedding band. When she wore it, she knew where she stood in the world. She knew where the boundaries were.

“Any developments?” she asked Dan.

“Yeah, actually. I just got a lead on Jasmine Cruz from this scumbag informant of mine,” he said.

“Well, that’s good news, because I was just examining Jed Benson’s telephone records, and she’s all over them.”

“No kidding!”

“Yeah. I’m starting to think she’s it. You know, the missing link between Slice and Jed Benson.”

“What’s in the phone records?”

“Numerous calls in the last year from Jed Benson’s cell phone to two phones subscribed in the name Jasmine Cruz. One landline, one cell phone, so he was calling her at home
and
on her cell. I’m talking like several calls per week, usually late at night. Long ones, too.”

“Wow! All from his cell, you said, not from his home phone?”

“Yes, that’s right. He didn’t call her from his house.”

“You know what that means?”

“Unfortunately, I do. He was hiding it from his wife, the jerk.” She was thinking of her own innocent-looking home-telephone bills—they hadn’t breathed a hint of Steve’s cheating. “I have a feeling Benson got around. Sarah van der Vere practically admitted they had an affair. And these phone records suggest the same thing about Jasmine.”