Most Wanted (35 page)

“Are you sure? I don’t know much about cars, but she doesn’t sound good.”

“Joe, it’s an emergency.”

“Okay.” He handed her the key. “If you like, I’ll fill out the paperwork for you once the attendant gets in.”

“That would be great. You’re a pal.”

“Hey, anything I can do. Watching you suffer through this case, I actually feel guilty you caught it instead of me.”

“Oh, come on, we both know I deserve whatever I get. Teach me to try to further my career,” she said. She opened the car door and slid behind the wheel, throwing her bag onto the passenger seat.

“Oh, speaking of careers, I have some news,” Joe said, then waved his hand. “But never mind. You’re in a rush.”

“No. What is it?”

“I’m considering an offer from Fogel, Bingham and McGuire. I may be leaving the office.”

Her face fell. Her friends were deserting her. Not like she had many to spare either. Steve had been right about that.

“Oh, Joe! No, you can’t. How will I get along without you?”

“It’s nice of you to say that. I’ll miss you, too. But it’s not like we ever see each other, you know.”

“But we will, once things slow down.”

“As if that’ll ever happen. The thing is, Melanie, I need work that challenges me intellectually. No matter what I say, Witchie-Poo keeps assigning me buy-busts.”

“When I get a minute, Joe, I’m talking you out of this.”

He smiled. “Aw, well, thanks for caring.” He stepped back as she pulled the door shut. “Good luck!” he shouted, but she’d turned on the air-conditioning and didn’t hear him.

HER LEG WAS CRAMPING FROM THE TENSION OF pressing the pedal to the floor.

“Godamnit, Stella!” she shouted, pounding the steering wheel. Damn thing kept losing power. She had to get to Delvis before the engine died. She had to hear the answer. It wasn’t just about catching Slice anymore. If people around her were dirty, she needed to hear the rest. Because the pattern had become too obvious to ignore. The missing evidence. The doors left unguarded. Rosario. Jasmine. Now Amanda. Someone on the inside was working with that animal, tipping him off. She needed to find out who. She had to stop the killings. And, for her own reasons, she needed to learn the truth about Dan O’Reilly.

As she passed through the barbed-wire gates of the prison, she breathed normally again. She made it this far. It wouldn’t be long now until she knew. Melanie turned off the engine, wincing at the terrible grinding sound. Then she grabbed her bag and ran for the entrance, clip-clopping in her high heels.

Leona Burkett, the bleached blonde with the wide behind whom Melanie remembered from the other day, met her by the X-ray machine. Melanie flashed her credentials, shivering in the frigid air-conditioning, thinking about what she would ask Delvis. It was amazing how work calmed her, focused her mind. She felt the ground back under her feet.

“You just show up, without an appointment?” Leona snapped.

“I apologize,” Melanie said. “This investigation is moving so fast. The need to speak to Diaz again came up unexpectedly.”

“Have a seat while I check the computer. I have no idea whether it can be arranged for today.”

“Please, whatever you can do. It’s urgent.”

Leona jerked her head toward a small waiting area to the left of the entrance, then walked away.

Melanie was beginning to get agitated, looking at her watch, when Leona returned about fifteen minutes later.

“Looks like you wasted a trip,” Leona said. “This is why I tell you people to call first.”

“Why? What do you mean?”

“Prisoner was just transferred to Leavenworth. Went out on the five A.M. airlift.”

“Leavenworth?
Kansas
?”

“Yes, ma’am. That scumbag’s attitude finally caught up with him. He pissed
some
body off to get sent there. Leavenworth knows how to deal with the hardened cases. I doubt we’ll ever see Diaz again, but if we do, let’s just say he’ll be more cooperative.” She snickered.

“No! That can’t be right. I just spoke to him yesterday. He never said anything about getting transferred.”

“He didn’t know. They wake him up, tell him to grab his box of belongings, and get his ass on the plane.”

Something occurred to her. “Exactly when was the transfer arranged?”

Leona flipped through several sheets of paper attached to the clipboard she carried.

“Let’s see,” she said, removing one. “Here’s the redesignation paperwork. ‘Diaz, Delvis, number A6452-053, designation transfer, airlift, LV.’ LV is Leavenworth. This was entered into the computer last night at 1807 hours, so just after six o’clock.”

Delvis had called Melanie in the late afternoon, some time between four and five. If she had any doubt about whether the transfer was a coincidence, the timing re- solved it. Delvis was transferred for one reason and one reason only—to interfere with her speaking to him again.

“Who ordered him transferred?” Melanie asked.

Leona pointed to a column on the sheet of paper. “See here? It just says
D
for discretionary. That means it was at the discretion of the Bureau of Prisons rather than by a writ. So it was somebody in the BOP ordered it.”

“Can I find out who? Ask them why they did it?”

“I told you why. That scumbag was a pain in everybody’s backside. I could prob’ly name you ten guys wanted his ass out of here. But who keyed in the actual order, the computer doesn’t record that.”

“How can I get him back?”

Leona scowled and took back the sheet of paper. “Get him back? He just left.”

“But I need to speak with him.”

“You want him back, file a sentenced-prisoner writ. But I can tell you, people around here ain’t gonna be too happy to see his ugly mug again.”

“Okay, how do I do that?”

“Get a writ, get it signed by a federal judge. File it with the Marshals Service thirty days prior to the time you need the prisoner.”

“But I need the prisoner now.”

Leona shrugged. “Well, then. Guess you’re out of luck. Listen, if you don’t mind, I got a lot of work to do this morning.”

“Oh, of course. Thank you, Leona. You’ve been very helpful.”

“Don’t mention it, hon.”

MELANIE CROSSED THE BLISTERING-HOT BLACK-TOP back to where she’d parked. The way her day was going, she had a sinking feeling that the car would decide not to start. And that was
before
she saw the oily reddish brown puddle seeping out from under it.

She opened the driver’s-side door and felt waves of hot, acrid-smelling air rush out at her. Of course she hadn’t thought to park in the shade. She got in anyway, wincing as her skirt rode up and exposed the backs of her thighs to the scalding Naugahyde seat. Leaving the door open for air, she found the key in her bag, stuck it in the ignition, and turned it.

A strange whirring noise emanated from the engine, but when she put the car in gear and stepped on the gas, nothing happened. Stella refused to move. She pressed her foot to the floor. Still nothing.

“Come on, Stella. Come on, baby.”

The whir became a grind and then a screech, but no matter how hard she pressed, the car wouldn’t budge. She put her head down on the steering wheel, eyes completely dry. What good would crying do? Besides, she was too tired.

“Car trouble?” said a voice beside her.

She raised her head. Dan O’Reilly stood there looking down at her, the sun glinting off his thick, dark hair, a smile lighting up his handsome face.

“LUCKY I SHOWED UP,” DAN SAID. “YOUR TRANSMISSION is shot. You’d better come with me.”

Standing there in the sunlight, he looked so trustworthy he practically sparkled, but appearances could be deceiving. If she really wanted to get the truth, she’d go with him now. She’d play along, keep her eyes open. If she said no, he’d realize she suspected something, and she’d lose her advantage. She wasn’t scared. She refused to believe Dan would hurt her. She would never believe that.

So she pretended to smile back at him and got out of her car.

“I’m parked right over here,” he said. “I’ll get the A/C going for you, see if I can find a garage out here in the middle of East Buttfuck.”

He opened the door of his car for her, then walked around to the driver’s side. She got into the passenger seat. He must’ve had the air-conditioning going just minutes earlier, because the interior was cool. It smelled of coffee and, beneath that aroma, something clean that she realized with a start must just be him. She breathed deeply, then caught herself. What was she doing? She couldn’t let herself feel anything for him—not trust, not physical attraction, nothing. She’d decided that already.

She reached out and touched the coffee sitting in the drink holder. It was still hot.

“That’s for you,” he said. “Bought it at a diner down the road. Thought you might need some caffeine.”

“You were expecting to see me? So I guess it’s no coincidence you’re here?”

“No, of course not. You hung up on me this morning. I got worried about you, so I tracked you down.”

“How on earth did you find me?”

“Trained investigator, sweetheart.”

Yeah, right, she thought.

He flipped on the air-conditioning, turning the vent to point directly at her. A blast of air whipped her hair up into her face, where it stuck to her lipstick. She brushed it back with her fingers.

“Cool enough for you?” Dan asked.

“Definitely.”

“See? Who’s your daddy? Do I take care of you or what?”

“Why didn’t you just call me, rather than driving an hour and a half to Otisville?” she asked edgily.

“With how upset you were, I figured you wouldn’t answer your phone.”

“You thought I wouldn’t answer, so you hopped in your car and drove for two hours instead? That makes no sense.”

His cell phone rang.

“Oh,” he said, pulling it from his pocket, “I’m working a lead. This might be it.

“Yeah?” he answered. When he heard the voice on the other end, he looked at Melanie like it was important. Holding the phone with his shoulder, he set the timer on his digital watch. “Fucking right I was out there last night. …Look, you don’t want me shaking the trees for you, you fucking return my beeps…. When? You been telling me that for three days. How long am I supposed to wait? …You know the game. You want any protection, you gotta give me something. …I told you, you deliver Slice and I’ll take care of that…. I’ll handle it when the time comes. …This afternoon or nothing. This is the end of the line…. Where?…Okay, yeah, four o’clock, but if you don’t show, that’s it. You’re fair game on the street. And you know how people get hurt in an arrest situation, regrettable as that is…. Right, bye.”

“Who was that?” Melanie asked when he hung up.

“Snitch of mine. He could deliver Slice on a silver platter if he wanted to, but the guy’s fucking playing me. He won’t come in, won’t meet. So I’m trying to track him through the phone company.” He dialed his phone hurriedly. “Yeah, gimme the Compliance Department…. Vinnie Maresca, please. …Yeah, Vin, Dan O’Reilly. Did you get it? Great! Hold on a second.”

He leaned across her and rummaged through the glove compartment, his body inches from hers. She closed her eyes and held her breath, willing herself not to feel anything. Sexual attraction,
claro
. A chemical thing. Her brain could override it, she told herself. He pulled out a pen and a small notebook and sat up again. She breathed out. She opened her eyes and saw him scribbling something down.

“Millbrook, New York. Never heard of it. …Dutchess County? Huh. Strange. Listen, thanks though, I owe you a beer. Later, buddy.” He hung up and turned to Melanie. “Where the fuck is Millbrook, New York?”

“Millbrook? It’s a fancy little town just south of here. Horses, antiques, that sort of thing. Jed Benson had a country estate there. Why?”

“Huh, that’s gotta be it. Why else would a scumbag Bushwick drug dealer be in Millbrook? My snitch must be at Benson’s place. Looking for something. You don’t happen to know the address?”

“Of Benson’s house? Yes, actually I do. I reviewed those records just last night, and I remember it. Why?”

“We need to get there right away. If I can get my hands on this guy, he can take us right to Slice.”

DAN FOLLOWED THE SIGNS BACK TO THE HIGHWAY, then pulled a road atlas from the space between the two front seats and flipped it open in his lap, consulting it as he drove.

“So who’s this snitch? Would I recognize his name?” she asked, studying his profile.

He smiled. “You’re very nosy, you know that? So many questions today. How about I ask a few for a change?”

“What do you want to know?” she asked warily.

“I want to know why the first thing you do after Amanda gets hit is rush up here to talk to Delvis again? What did he have to say that was so important?”

“I don’t know. I never spoke to him.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“He was transferred to Leavenworth this morning.”

He took his eyes off the road and looked at her with genuine astonishment. She made a mental note. Whatever Dan was involved in, he hadn’t known about Delvis’s transfer.

“You look surprised,” Melanie said.

“I am. Diaz has been at Otisville since day one. It’s weird he’d get moved all of a sudden. Why do you think they transferred him?”

“Leona said there was no reason given in the order,” she said, evading his question.

He looked over at her quizzically. “Any relationship between you coming up here and Delvis getting moved?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Hey, can we stop playing games here? What’s the matter, you don’t trust me or something?” He looked upset, kept his gaze on her. The car swerved slightly in its lane.

“Will you watch where you’re going, please? I don’t want to end up dead,” she said.

“Answer my question.”

“Of course I trust you.”

“Well, you’re sure not acting like it.”

Dan’s mouth set in an angry line. They drove on in silence for some time. Eventually, he signaled and pulled off the highway onto the exit ramp for Millbrook. Within minutes they were on a winding road flanked by views of red barns and pastures dotted with creamy white sheep and picture-book horses. Dan consulted the atlas sitting open in his lap and adjusted the route slightly. They drove for a while longer, the scenery getting better by the minute. On either side were gentleman’s farms, graced by painstakingly restored nineteenth-century farmhouses with freshly painted shutters and elegant landscaping. Their late-summer gardens competed in lavish display with the first blazes of color appearing in ancient, towering trees.