Weep In The Night (15 page)

“A few more questions while you're in a disclosing mood. I know Cal hired you, but who do you work for?”

“I'm a private investigator, of sorts. That's all I can tell you, for now.”

“OK.” She pointed to the photo again. “I know she's not your wife, but are you married?” Why did every inch of her being wait in limbo for his answer?

“Divorced eleven years ago. No kids.” His flat tone hung in the air.

A flicker of hope sparked in her heart. “Why'd you divorce? Was it related to your job?”

He folded his arms, and by the set of his jaw, Sadie thought he wouldn't answer, but one word slipped out.

“Booze.”

“What did you say?”

“I drank too much. Liz handled it as long as she could. Then she left me.” The fingers of his right hand drummed on his left bicep. “She filed for divorce, and I quit drinking.”

Sadie veered past a large pothole. “I'm sorry.” What else could she say? Although she and Aaron seldom had more than an occasional glass of wine, she'd had several foster parents who overindulged. She knew firsthand the devastation alcohol could cause.

Removing his sunglasses, he slipped them into his pocket. “Been off the stuff for eleven years.”

A car horn blared somewhere behind them. Sadie gripped the wheel and stole a look at Bowen. He slumped in the seat, arms folded again.

“That's something to be proud of.”

He snorted and relaxed his arms. “But it cost me.”

They drove the next miles in silence until she turned into in the truck stop parking lot.

“Take in whatever toiletries you need and a change of clothes. We'll shower first and then eat.” Bowen slid out of the pickup and opened the back door.

Sadie located sneakers, jeans, underwear, a pair of socks, and a blue T-shirt and stowed the items in the bag with her drugstore purchases.

With a small duffle bag and computer case slung over his shoulder, Bowen asked, “Got the keys?”

In answer, she tossed them to him.

He caught the key ring and closed the door. “Let's be quick. The sooner we're back on the highway, the better.” Once inside the facility, Bowen paid for two showers and they entered separate areas.

Sadie left her sandals on and hoped they'd survive their dunking. The warm water pounded tension off her stiff muscles. But as much as she wanted to linger, she dried off on the thin, scratchy white towel and dressed. After using the blow dryer on her short curls, she positioned the wig in place. A touch of makeup, all items stowed in the sack, and she was ready. She'd neglected to purchase a toiletry bag so everything jumbled together.

Patrons' chatter, the clinking of silverware, and whiffs of grease, coffee, and stale tobacco smoke led Sadie from the showers to the restaurant.

Clean-shaven Bowen in cowboy-cut jeans, boots, and a black T-shirt, waited at the entrance. No cap, no sunglasses. Damp curls slicked back. Eyes wide and innocent, searching for her. Sadie drew in a breath and glanced in the bag so he couldn't read her expression.
He lied. Everything he ever said was a lie.

But Cal sent him. She would have to forgive Bowen's methods if they led to a reunion with her daughter. Her heart softened a little, and she joined him at the hostess podium.

While they waited to be seated, he leaned close.

Wisps of a citrusy aftershave tickled her nose. Sadie inhaled deeply but kept her eyes lowered.

“At first I thought that style of wig was a mistake. But you look nothing like your old photos. Observers will notice the hair, your figure, your confident air. They won't see you—if that makes sense—and they certainly won't pay me any heed.”

For nearly three years, she'd worked hard at being invisible. The wig gave her a measure of anonymity and the boldness to stand next to this man.

A young waitress with a braided black ponytail directed Bowen and Sadie to a booth. They scanned the menu and ordered quickly.

Bowen opened his laptop, punched the power button, then attached the wireless card. When the newspaper website loaded, he turned the computer so they both could see the screen.

“Griff's story has been updated.” He scrolled down and pointed to the last paragraph. “What do you think of that? Authorities are close to releasing the name of a suspect.”

The words danced around her brain. Did this mean they wouldn't trace her phone call?

After closing the computer, Bowen took a long drink of iced tea. “Hmm, I feel like a new man. Shave, shower, ready to conquer the world.” He took Sadie's hand. “And you, sweetheart, you have admiring glances from all the men in here.”

“Stop lying, and don't call me sweetheart.”

His grasp tightened, and she couldn't pull away. “Go with the flow. There really are two guys eyeing you. Don't make any obvious movements, but they're at the counter.”

She flicked a quick glance at the two burly, bearded men and caught their leers. “Ugh. OK, if holding your hand will keep them away, fine, but don't insult me with any more lies.”

“There are a few things I didn't lie about.”

“Really? Your punching bag is in the backseat, so I guess that wasn't a lie.”

“Right. That was true, and I love football.” His gaze dropped to their clasped hands where his thumb rubbed circles on her knuckles. “And that's not all. I hated deceiving you because developing a relationship with you was more than a job. It was real.”

She jerked her hand free. “That's not fair. I—“

The waitress approached the table and set down Sadie's small chef's salad and Bowen's tacos. “I'll be back with more tea. Will there be anything else?”

Bowen dolloped salsa on his tacos and flashed his dimpled smile at her. “Nope. This looks good. Thanks.”

Sadie shook her head, and the waitress left. After he'd delivered her to Cal and located Hannah, Sadie wasn't sure she wanted to see him again. His mysterious past, the way he'd found her, made her think there was more than a private investigator here. Her heart whispered an anguished plea that he was trustworthy. She sipped tea and stared out the window. Eighteen-wheelers chugged away from the diesel pumps. A scrawny blackbird pecked at the gravel along the sidewalk.

A dark blue sports car like Kyle's pulled into the lot.

Her blood turned as cold as the tea in her glass. Sweat gathered under her wig.

She set the glass down and tapped Bowen's hand. “Look out the window.”

“Is it Kyle?” He stared. “We have to get out of here.”

Grabbing the bag of clothes and her purse, Sadie slid out of the seat.

But instead of following her, Bowen pointed. “It's not Kyle.”

An Asian man climbed out of the car.

“Can we still leave? I—”

“Of course.” Bowen motioned to the waitress and after she gave him their ticket, he slung his bags over his shoulder.

They hurried out of the restaurant, dumped their belongings in the pickup, and set off with Bowen behind the wheel.

Although Kyle had not found her, knots of curdled fear filled Sadie's stomach. Her gaze drifted to Bowen's strong hands on the wheel. He held her life in those hands.

His phone beeped and he answered. “Yes, she's here. I'll put it on speaker.”

Once he set the phone in its holder, a male voice filled the cab. “It's all over the news. Debra Johnson is wanted as a person of interest in the murder of Miles Griffin.”

 

 

 

 

16

 

Tension sizzled in the cab.

“You're safe,” Bowen said.

“But the whole world's looking for me.”

“No. They're looking for Debra.”

Although previous assignments had landed him in precarious positions, his face had never been plastered on a wanted poster. He had no idea what that was like. What could he say to reassure her? “We've been careful since we left Austin. No one's going to find Debra.”

Still no response from her.

“I have many faults, but one thing I'm good at—my job. Keeping you safe.” Why did he keep putting his size elevens in his mouth? “Please, Sadie, give me a chance. Yes, this is a job, but like I told you, my feelings for you aren't part of the assignment.”

Silence from her side of the vehicle.

“I promise.” He shot a glance at her. “Talk to me. Please.”

“At this point in my upside down life, I don't care what you say. We have to be together, and I appreciate your help. But know this, Bowen Boudine. I'm sick of lies—yours, mine—all of them. Whatever the outcome of this venture, our paths will take opposite directions. After I talk with Cal and find Hannah, I'm not sure I want you around. I…you lied to me. I know you did it because of your job, but…” With arms folded, she sat back and faced the side window.

Bowen let twenty miles pass before stealing a glance at her. Her fingers twitched, and although half concealed by a curtain of hair, her jaw clenched.

Cal had supplied few details of the events leading up to her placement in WITSEC. But to protect her he needed as much information as possible. He cleared his throat and focused on a line of charter buses ahead. “You didn't get a chance to eat much. Are you hungry?”

“No. I can wait until we stop for gas again.”

“Let me know. I'll stop anytime.”

A minute of thick silence passed.

“I'm sorry for my tirade. I really appreciate what you're doing for me.”

“I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe.” Everything. Was she ready to tell him about her life? His cell phone rang again, and he pulled it from the holder. “Hello.”

“This is Bravo Delta Tango, six-three-one-seven.”

“Go ahead. What's the situation?” Bowen mouthed to Sadie, “This is about Kyle.”

“Nelson was not at the location you provided. A neighbor—Pete Williams—was instrumental in releasing him.”

“No kidding?” Kyle and Pete in cahoots? Bowen shook his head. “And were the authorities notified?”

“Nope.”

“What about the U. S. Marshal's death. Discover anything?”

The voice on the line hesitated and then continued. “Don't know what you got yourself into, but this is a big mess. Sources told me the Austin Marshal's office has a major leak. Your murdered agent had several witnesses whose identities were compromised.”

Bowen whistled. That might explain why the authorities wanted to locate Debra Johnson.

His caller asked, “Anything else I can do on this end?”

“No. That's all for now. If you hear more, give me a call. Thanks.” Bowen returned the phone to its dashboard holder. “Bad news from Austin.” He repeated the information his contact had provided.

Her eyes widened when he mentioned Pete Williams. “Do you think he and Kyle were working together?” She told him about her concerns regarding the men.

“They could be in cahoots. But what concerns me more is Griffin.” After Bowen related the problems discovered with Griff's witnesses, Sadie's skin paled. “I know you considered him a friend, but could he have turned traitor?”

“Never. He's been my contact in Austin for over a year. Why would he betray me now? No. I won't believe it.”

“I was going to suggest you contact the WITSEC office in L.A., but who knows how far the leak has traveled.”

“I trust Cal, and he trusts you. We're on our own until I find Hannah. Then I'll make contact.”

“Speaking of your past, I'd like you to tell me what happened. What led to your identity change? I was out of the country at the time and didn't keep up with U.S. news. Are you up to it?”

A heavy silence permeated the space. Had he asked too much?

“The details are never far from my mind, no matter how hard I try to bury them.”

“Take your time. L.A. is four hundred miles away.”

She took off her sunglasses and rubbed her eyes. “Five years ago Aaron and I opened a technology consulting business. Our graduate degrees are in software engineering, but we had experience in many areas. We could handle pretty much anything in the industry.” She shifted in the seat and picked at a thread on her jeans. “August three years ago, Brady Holdings hired us to revamp their accounting system.”

“I've heard of Brady Insurance. Big office building on Wilshire, right?”

“Uh-huh. Beautiful glass façade hiding a mountain of corruption. Reminds me of a Bible verse about the Pharisees being like whitewashed tombs that look good on the outside, but inside they're full of dead men's bones.”

“Nasty image.” Bowen massaged his temple. Sadie's mention of this scripture struck like a javelin at his heart. Didn't that describe him? All right on the outside but full of sin and guilt on the inside? He gave Sadie a nod. “Go on.”

“One evening I worked late—Aaron had already gone home. On my way to the employee exit, I overheard Hank Otis and Duke arguing. Hank was Brady's Chief Security Officer.”

“Duke?”

“Levasseur. The owner of Brady Holding. He insisted he gave Hank a thumb drive pouch, and Hank denied it. Anyway, they bickered back and forth and finally Duke said that if the Malones got a hold of it, Hank would suffer severe consequences.”

Bowen glanced at Sadie. Her rigid body told him plenty. “I'm sorry, Sadie. You don't have to carry on.”

“It's OK. I left without them seeing me and fled home and told Aaron. The next day there was a malfunction in the tech room. While working on the problem, I found a small black zippered pouch half hidden under a metal cart.”

“It contained the missing thumb drive?”

“Two of them. I should have left the pouch there, but Duke's threatening words spurred my curiosity. I took it to the office we'd been assigned and plugged one of the drives into the computer.”

“And you found—?”

“The mother lode. With Aaron keeping watch on our office door, I scanned the information. The first drive listed financial transactions that had nothing to do with accounting programs we'd had access to. The second one contained names, dates, and dollar amounts going back years. It also had transactions in code. Too much for us to decipher at my desk, and too dangerous.” She glanced at Bowen, her eyes sad and lackluster.