The P.U.R.E. (30 page)

The note contained my name and apartment number. A series of bullet points written in tiny letters said, ‘DNA, messages, legal docs in b’case’.

I had nothing but crazy love for a crook who wrote to-do lists and left them behind.

Jon took the paper from me and moved back a step, comprehension evident on his face. “Doug didn’t do it. Ron Fein did.”

“I guess Bob hired him to trash my apartment.”

“Looks like it. Why do you suppose he wanted to frame Doug?” Jon asked. “Doesn’t make much sense given he’s been watching out for Doug all this time.”

He stuffed the slip of paper in his pocket; I guessed the note was evidence of sorts. I caught him scanning my body, but he made no moves.

“Maybe Jeff hired him,” I said. “I’d wondered why we found so much stuff in Bob’s office the other night, almost as if he were being set up too. If so, Jeff forgot to plant the flyer from my neighbor I found in his planner.”

“Good point,” he said. “We, and many others, witnessed Bob’s meeting with Ron. Jeff played it safe and handed off the file to Bob at a much more private location, or so he thought.”

Jon’s libido had apparently taken a sabbatical. I gave up and walked into my bedroom to get dressed.

He followed me and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting as I rifled through a drawer for clean underwear. An ember of hope glowed deep within the ashes.

“Are you still going to move Marilyn, then?” I turned to face him, a pair of lacy underwear dangling from my wrist and a matching bra from my fingers—both black, both from my ‘how can you possibly resist me’ collection. His eyes darkened.
A-ha!

He shifted his focus from my unmentionables to my face. “What? Oh, yes, I’m still going to move Marilyn.”

“And keep her hidden until when? After you make an arrest?” My hand gestures made the lacy garments swing, hijacking his attention as his eyes tracked their movements. I struggled to hold back a giggle.

“Probably.”

“But you’re close, right, that’s what you said?”

I let the towel around my body drop to the floor.

He gulped but didn’t move. “I can’t discuss this any further with you. I’m sorry, but given this is still an undercover operation, I can’t.” He spoke to my breasts, which stood rapt with attention.

“Yeah, but I’m debriefed now. Your identity is no longer a secret as far as I’m concerned. Why can’t I be admitted to the … bosom of the operation?” I leaned toward him but almost started to laugh because ‘bosom’ was such a funny word and my innuendo was more Tina Fey than Angelina Jolie.

He continued to converse with my breasts. “Because you’re one more potential leak for me to worry about, and as sophisticated as Jeff’s information system has proven to be, I can’t manage any more.” He lifted his eyes to mine as he spoke his final words.

Dubbing me a potential leak snuffed out the last of my ardor. “Oh, right. I’m to be managed, now. Nice.”
Screw you … some other time.
I stepped into my panties as I spoke and put on my bra.

“Please don’t take it that way.” He reached out for me, pulled me between his legs and laid his cheek against my breasts.

I sighed and ran my fingers through his hair, dropping a kiss on the crown of his head. “You have no idea how frustrating it is to know stuff is going on but be unable to do anything.”

He cracked an eye open, a smirk on his face.

“I do understand, but I don’t have to like it.” I pulled back from him and stood akimbo before I frowned and stalked off to my closet to put on the rest of my clothes. He groaned, and my bed creaked like he’d stretched out for a nap.

I knew better though.

“Come on. I’ll buy you brunch,” he said after I emerged wearing jeans and a lavender sweater. “Then I’ll let you come with me on my surveillance but only if you stop trying to seduce me like you’ve been doing ever since you got out of the shower. Later, we’ll go get Marilyn.”

Pleased with my consolation prize, I cooed, “Really? Oh, that’s so cool. Should I wear black instead?” I chose to ignore his comment about raining on my seduction parade. At least I’d gotten to him, and that was good enough for the moment.

He laughed. “No, you’re fine. Grab your shoes, and let’s go already.”

40

After a long leisurely brunch and a stop at Target to stock up on essentials, Jon glanced at his watch. “Wow. It’s almost one, and I’ve got to make my rounds.” He took my hand, and we scurried to his car.

“Where to first?” I asked as he started Christine. I had my bag on my lap, inspecting my purchases and wondering when they’d be put to use.

“First to swap out my car, then to Addison. I need to check on a tap.”

“On Jeff’s Internet? What do you check for?”

“I make sure it’s still in place and hidden. I’ll be quick if no one’s around.”

He drove first to a nondescript, gated parking lot downtown. A wave of his electronic card at the reader, and the gate opened. He parked on the far right side of the lot, retrieved a large bag from Christine’s trunk, and led the way to a cable company van. I climbed in the front passenger seat while he opened the back to stash his bag and grab a few props. He slipped on a button up shirt that bore the cable company’s name on the breast and gave his name as ‘Dave’.

“Pew,” he exclaimed, turning up his nose. “Somebody forgot to wash this.” He tossed me a smaller-sized shirt, freshly laundered, and a matching baseball cap. “Slip this on and tuck your hair up.”

Mine identified me as ‘Tina’. I wrinkled my nose at him but slipped it on. I’d have bet money he’d picked it on purpose.

After completing paperwork he dropped off with an employee stationed at the gate, we headed north to Addison.

The guard at the gated community where Jeff lived let us in with a friendly nod and wave after Jon exchanged a few pleasantries with him. Jon parked between Jeff’s and a neighbor’s homes.

Even though he made me stay in the van, I had a good view of his activities. He darted to the cable box near the side of Jeff’s home and returned in less than a minute.

“Now we’re off to find out who, if anyone, is at the Richardson location,” he said as he started the van and pulled away.

That was a quick stop too because no one was around. We next went to Bob’s Turtle Creek home. Jon stopped at the corner of the street that ran perpendicular to Bob’s cul-de-sac.

He slipped on his sunglasses and baseball hat and got out. “Stay here and stay down.” He strolled to the Turner’s front door, bold as brass, carrying a fistful of cable service flyers.

After he slipped one between the doorknob and the door, he peered in the front window and the windows at the top of the garage door. I’d have needed a ladder to look in those windows, but he only had to raise up on his toes.

He hopped in the van and removed his shades and hat. “All the little piggies are out and about somewhere, which makes me very nervous.”

“Are you gonna huff and puff and blow their houses down?”

“Nope, but I am heading south to Duncanville to check on Marilyn—just in case.” He left the neighborhood and, a few turns later, merged onto the southbound freeway.

We drove in silence, finally turning onto a long private drive that led into some trees before emerging in front of an old farm style house with a wraparound porch. No cars sat in Marilyn’s driveway either.

We both got out and walked to her door. Jon rang the bell, and we waited for at least a minute. He rang again, but still no one came.

“Go get in the van, Gayle. I need to check out the house.” He drew his gun from a shoulder harness on his right side.

He peered in her garage windows, moved to her front windows and to the side before he disappeared in the back. A few minutes later, he emerged and jogged back to the van.

“Her car’s gone, and I found no signs of anyone in the house.” He dialed on his cell phone and drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. “She’s not answering.” He ended the call and sent a quick text before starting the van.

“What now?”

“She’s supposed to meet me downtown at six, and it’s … four thirty. I thought she’d be home getting ready, but perhaps she’s running a few last minute errands. Still, I wish she’d picked up. I want to swing by her fiancé’s and friend’s houses to see if she’s at either place.”

I pulled out Marilyn’s profile to check the addresses, but Jon tapped the side of his head. “I’ve already got it up here; I’ve been to both addresses before.”

“Oh, of course.” I continued to examine the profile because
I
wanted to know where we were going. Jon seemed to be in his own world and rather uncommunicative, so I didn’t want to ask him. Her fiancé lived in Lancaster, but I wasn’t familiar with the town. Her friend lived not far from where Jon and I lived, a few miles north of downtown.

We took I-20 east and headed south on I-35. The signs for Lancaster eventually appeared. Her fiancé’s home proved fruitless, as I suspected it would, since he wasn’t a traditional fiancé. I wondered if they were marrying to have a child.

When we got to Marilyn’s friend Alice’s home, there were no cars in the driveway and no garage to house them. No interior lights hinted of occupants either. Another dead end.

Marilyn still hadn’t returned Jon’s call nor his text, and it was already five forty, so we headed downtown. I took Jon’s silence for worry and hoped Marilyn would be at the FBI’s office waiting for us.

She wasn’t. When she still didn’t show up by quarter after six or answer any of Jon’s calls, we rushed back to her home in Duncanville. I had a bad feeling some plot was unfolding and we’d been shut out.

As a precaution, Jon turned off his headlights before he plunged through the trees and up to the house. Three cars sat parked in front.

He killed the engine. “Stay here and out of sight.”

“I want to go with you.”

“The silver Volvo is Leslie Turner’s car. The blue one is Marilyn’s. The black one’s too generic to peg in the dark. Too many unknowns mean it’s too dangerous.”

“Leslie? Do you think she’s here, or Bob drove her car?”

“Good question. I’m going to check out the windows, but I need you to stay put, Gayle. No arguments, okay? If anyone comes, flash the lights if I’m within sight; tap the horn if I’m not.”

“Okay. Got it.”

He slipped out of the van and moved with the sleek grace of a panther to the side of the house.

My boyfriend, the FBI agent.
How bizarre.

I watched as he spied in a few of the windows before he disappeared in the back. Once he rounded the corner, he might as well have been on the dark side of the moon. If someone came, I’d have to use the horn.

The passenger door whipped open.

Before I could even reach for the horn, the click of a revolver’s hammer being pulled back pierced the night’s calm. I didn’t think guns had to be cocked, certainly not semi-automatics.

“Get out of the car, Gayle,” a man said.

My pulse raced. I didn’t recognize his voice at first but did as he ordered.

Jeff Hardinger stood three feet away with his gun pointed at me. I hadn’t been afraid of Ron. Jeff terrified me. He had almost as much motive for killing Kenneth as Bob.

“Raise your hands and keep them in sight.”

I had every reason to take him seriously and flinched as the light from a flashlight blinded me.

“Where’s Jon?” he asked.

“Inside with Marilyn.”

A growl deep in his throat told me he bought my lie. “Let’s go.” He took a rough hold of my arm and dragged me toward the house.

“You’re too late, Jeff,” I said as we walked. “The cops arrested Ron. They’re on to you and Bob and your information black market.”

“They don’t have anything that would stick, and he’s a first class moron but an utterly predictable one.”

“Who? Ron or Bob?”

Jeff laughed softly but didn’t answer. We made our way to the door; it yielded when he turned the knob. He pushed me inside first, his gun pressed against my back. “Not a word or sound.”

I saw no one and heard nothing. The living room and dining room lights burned at full intensity. He grasped my right arm again, gun trained on me with his other hand, and shoved me toward the kitchen.

On our way, I scanned for an object I might be able to use as a weapon should Jeff lower his gun or become distracted. Potential weapons included chairs, lamps, vases, salt and pepper shakers.
Yeah those would work, shake salt in his eyes and pepper up his nose. Not.
Maybe in the kitchen I’d find a knife.

We moved to the back of the house, treading softly through the dimly lit kitchen. Unfortunately, no butcher block full of knives adorned her marble countertops. Marilyn kept an immaculate house.

Jeff tightened his grip on my arm and pushed me toward the dark family room. Despite the lights in the front of the house, the place seemed deserted. Where were Marilyn and Bob? Where was Jon? I hoped he had returned to the van and realized I’d gone missing.

“Bob? Marilyn?” Jeff called out into the darkness.

Soft thumps on the ceiling caught my attention. Someone was upstairs. Jeff turned me around and pushed me back through the kitchen and living room, back toward the stairs at the front of the house.

“You go up first.” He nudged me forward. “I’ll be right behind you, still close enough to kill you where you stand if you try anything.”

I grew lightheaded from breathing so rapidly. Only darkness awaited me at the top of the stairs.

Jeff’s gun jabbed me in the back again after he finished climbing. “To the right … quietly,” he whispered.

I walked toward what I presumed was a bedroom. The door was shut, so I stopped. A sliver of light escaped near the floor. The thumping sounds had to have originated from inside the room in front of me.

“Open the door and go in,” Jeff said. I stared at him, unsure of his plan once I did as he asked. He still had the gun pointed at me. “Go!”

I turned the knob, making noise to remove any remaining shreds of Jeff’s element of surprise. Unless whoever was on the other side of the door was deaf, they had to know he was in the house since he called out several names when downstairs.