Of course he could take the cash and stay with Dawn, but that would cause a fall from grace in her eyes. Dawn would want him to give it back, and if he refused…
"You don't get it, do you. We was made for each other. I'll fight to keep her and I'll fight anyone who tries to come between us. But more"—he pointed a finger at her—"and you as a mother ought to appreciate this—I will protect her from all harm. I will trade my life for hers if it comes down to that."
The words stunned her. Not so much because she hadn't expected them, but because of the undeniable sincerity behind them. This man would indeed die for Dawnie.
Why? He'd known her only a few months.
This was crazy.
He stepped to the side and dumped the stacks of bills onto the coffee table.
"What are you doing?"
He said nothing as he pulled out his cell phone. She watched as he opened it and started pressing buttons.
Calling Dawn? Oh, no!
"What are you doing? Who are you calling?"
"Nobody." He aimed the flip top of the phone at the pile of bills and pressed a button. "Just gettin proof."
"Proof of what?"
And then she knew. Her heart twisted in her chest when she realized what he was up to.
"No, please. Let's forget this ever happened! Please?"
He smiled as he slipped past her, opened the door, and stepped out into the night.
Christy stood there, numb, bloodless.
What would make a thirty-something man turn down a quarter of a million dollars to stay with a naive eighteen-year-old? Most people would say it had to be love, but Christy couldn't buy that.
It was something else. He talked about entwined—"twined"—destinies and changing the world… what was going on in that man's head?
But worse than that… she had a feeling she"d just made an awful mistake. She had to call Dawnie, reach her before that man did. Find some way to explain.
She ran for her phone.
11
"What I don't get," Jack said, eyeing Levy, "is why you'd even think of letting a psycho killer like Bolton loose."
Levy smiled. "He's not a 'psycho.' He's just… different."
"What kind of a guy doesn't say word one to anyone—not even his lawyer—during his entire trial? Doesn't that fit with psycho?"
The smile turned condescending. "It's not a term we use in the medical field, but yes, that sort of behavior would certainly be considered aberrant. In Bolton's case, however, it was aberrant like a fox. As soon as he arrived at Creighton he began talking. He's never explained his silence. He might have been looking for a verdict of not guilty by reason of insanity, but it didn't work."
"All right then, but psycho or not, he's still a stone killer. Why can't you test this drug on him behind bars?"
"Because that's not the real world. He's been a model prisoner, but it's a rigidly controlled environment. We couldn't gather worthwhile clinical data while he was locked up. It simply wasn't possible. We had to test him 'in the wild,' as it were."
"He's wild, all right."
Levy cleared his throat. "I'm not going to discuss experimental protocols with you. We'll make you the same offer we made Gerhard: We'll match what the Pickering woman is paying you."
Levy obviously figured he was talking to a sleazeball. Why disappoint him?
"Some offer. I'll be pocketing the same either way. Where's the benefit to me?"
"No, you misunderstand. We'll pay you while she's paying you. We want you to keep working for her—pretend to be working for her—so she won't hire a third detective. That way you'll be getting double your fee for nothing. Because that's what you'll be doing: Pretending to be conducting an ongoing investigation but coming up empty-handed."
Jack leaned back and thought about how he could make this work.
A crummy, complicated situation. Christy had hired him to come up with some way to split up Dawn and her older guy. Jack had that. All he had to do was go online to the FBI site and find a white male in his thirties on their most-wanted list, then drop a dime and identify Bethlehem as the guy. The feds would investigate, check his prints, and voila, back behind bars.
But would that trigger another sort of investigation? Would the agency Levy had spoken of figure John Robertson for the finger man and come after him? Might. Might not. But Jack couldn't afford to take the risk.
Especially if Bolton had nothing to do with Gerhard's death.
He'd have to find another way to fix this. Come at it from an entirely different angle. And it wouldn't hurt to maintain ties with Levy and Creighton while he was looking.
But he didn't want to sell himself too cheaply.
"Give me double what the lady's paying and it's a deal."
Levy nodded. "I believe we can handle that—as long as you hold up your end of the bargain."
"No problem there." But Jack saw a major hitch. "Might have a little problem taking back what I already told her."
Levy stiffened. "What's that?"
"That Gerhard's dead and Bethlehem could be the perp."
Did that sound detectivey enough?
"You didn't!" he said, bolting from his chair. "How could you be so stupid?"
Jack gave him an angry look. "Hey, watch it. I was doing what she was paying me to do. And now I'll do what you're paying me to do."
"Which is?"
"I'll tell her I checked out where Bethlehem was at the time of Gerhard's death and that he has an alibi."
Jack hadn't bought the alibi yet, but, not a bad plan. It might allay Christy's fears while saving her life.
"Just do whatever is necessary to keep her from exposing Bolton—for her sake as well as yours."
"When do I get paid?"
"I'll mail you a check tomorrow."
Jack shook his head. "Uh-uh. No way I want a paper trail between us. Cash."
"We cant do cash. We have to account for expenses."
"Cash or I walk away from this whole thing. Then you'll have to deal with the next dick Pickering hires."
"All right, all right! Cash it is. Now leave me alone. I've said too much already."
"Not nearly, but I can take a hint." He rose from his seat. "I'll be back to pick it up tomorrow."
"Not here! I don't want you near my home ever again."
"Your office then. Makes no difference to me."
"Not my office either."
Jack hid his disappointment. He'd wanted a look inside Creighton.
"Why not?"
"It's not a good place for private transactions."
Private… Jack realized that Creighton was probably lousy with bugs and security cameras. He remembered Levy's RF detector and figured he was worried his own place might be bugged.
"Where then?"
Levy thought a few seconds. "The shopping mall. We can meet in front of the A&P, say, around five-thirty."
Jack had one more question, so he pulled a Columbo—started for the foyer, then turned at the door to face Levy again.
"What makes Bolton so special?"
"Whatever do you mean?"
"Why's he still out there after kidnapping one of his handlers?"
"He's unique, and that's all I can say."
"Is it in his blood?"
Levy frowned. "Blood?"
"You know—his genes?"
"The nature-versus-nurture argument in regard to criminal behavior has been going on since before Darwin's day."
"Who's winning?"
"The nature argument—as it should. I am a geneticist, after all."
"So you believe people are born bad."
That condescending smile again. "We're all born bad—some just badder than others."