The Killing Game(67)

“Call me,” September encouraged.

As they turned to leave, Tigger suddenly awoke and stretched, then jumped to the back of the couch, tail switching, watching them depart with sleepy gold eyes. As soon as the door was closed behind them, Gretchen sneezed again.

“Are you allergic?” September asked.

“Probably.” She was dour. “I never want to go back there again. If he doesn’t call you, we need to move on to other sources.”

“At least he gave us something. He didn’t say much of anything the first time we contacted him. He’s getting to know us.”

“Great.” Gretchen looked at the face of her cell phone. “It’s lunchtime. Let’s get something to eat and head back to the station. Wes might be back by now.”

September nodded as Gretchen quickened her footsteps. Obviously, she was over this whole investigation.

*

Time to ramp up. Push the game. Maybe tonight I’ll take another little bird. I’ve strung her along long enough. She’s not the endgame. Far from it. The endgame’s still a few moves ahead.

But this one will do in the meantime . . . and it will further boggle them. They’ll look for connections that aren’t there. A little misdirection to keep them from the truth.

Yes . . . tonight.

The pressure’s built and I need a release.

Little bird . . . I’m coming for you. . . .





Chapter Sixteen



Andi followed Luke around her cabin as he checked each room and made certain there was no one lying in wait for her. “It’s intimidation,” he said as he checked out her bathroom and opened her closet door. “Whoever it is had to break in, so they don’t have access. They sent you a note through the mail, so they’re careful. They don’t contact you electronically, where there could be a trace. There may be fingerprints, but I’m guessing that’s unlikely. I’ll check into it. The letter was postmarked in Portland, and I’ll check that, too. But I don’t think it’ll help us much. Anyone from anywhere could drop it into a box.”

“Why are they doing this?” Andi whispered, biting her lip. “Why me?”

“Your association with the Wrens? The bird thing suggests something to do with your name.”

“The Carreras don’t like us, no matter if Carter’s trying to make nice. They’ll burn us in the end.” She exhaled heavily. “But I don’t get why I’m the target.”

“Maybe you’re just the way in. I don’t know. I need to have a powwow with the brothers Carrera.”

“Can we wait on that?” Andi asked. “I just . . . don’t want to poke the hornet’s nest yet.”

He looked at her, and whatever he saw on her face—fear, anxiety, desperation—caused him to nod in reluctant agreement. They walked back to the living room. “I’ve got some work to do, but I’ll be back later.”

She spread her hands. “I need to start paying you. With everything that’s happened, we never really got to that.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out. I want to get the Carreras as much or more than you do, so I’m looking at this more as a partnership. That work for you?”

“Yes.” She liked the sound of that.

“Okay, so I’ll go finish up some of my own stuff, then I’ll do some digging into Scott and Mimi Quade, too. When you add up people who feel wronged by the Wrens, they’re high on the list.”

“Okay.”

He came directly to her and put his hands on her shoulders, looking down at her. “I don’t want you to be scared.”

“I don’t want to be either.”

“So, if it seems like the thing to do, I’m going to bunk on your couch tonight.”

Andi shot a glance over to her sofa, which didn’t look like it would come close to fitting his lanky frame.

He saw her glance and added, “Maybe I’ll bring a sleeping bag.”

“Good thinking.”

He gave her shoulders a quick squeeze and said, “See ya later.”

Long after he left, she felt the comforting imprint of his fingers.

*

Out of her last Pilates class of the day, Trini jumped into her Mini and drove straight to the grocery store. She shopped like she was a sweepstakes winner, throwing items into her cart. She swiped her credit card and wiggled the toes on her right foot anxiously. She glanced at her Fitbit to see the time. She was late, as always. It was a cosmic wonder that she couldn’t get anywhere on time. She tried. She really did, but her own biorhythms seemed to be on a separate plane, and well, hell, who cared anyway?

Four-thirty. Well, that wasn’t too bad. Bobby was coming over at five. A little early for him, but he’d told her tonight was something special and she had no idea what that meant, but it could be anything. Good, bad, indifferent. She was really hoping for good. Great. Maybe a weekend away, just the two of them. A spa vacation in the desert, or hell, admit it, wouldn’t it just be marvelous to go somewhere far, far away? Some place stunningly exotic? Like those resort rooms on stilts over cerulean water in Bora Bora. Oh God.

She juggled the grocery bags and nearly dropped one on the way to her car. She did drop her keys but managed to pick them up. Who was she kidding? she thought, as she switched on the ignition. Bobby wasn’t the type for trips to another corner of the world. He was too careful. His idea of a vacation would probably be to the Oregon beaches, or maybe the mountains. Somewhere closer, more intimate. Maybe not sooo extravagant. And that was just fine with her. He was so imperfect, he was perfect.