“Life isn’t always so black and white.”
Nate stared at his mentor. “That’s not how you trained me.”
“Training’s what gets you by until you have enough experience to know where you can bend the rules.”
“So this is one of those rule-bending situations? That’s a pretty damn big bend.”
Quinn stood up and glanced at Daeng. “Where’s the toilet?”
“Through the living room, and down that hall,” Daeng said. “Second door on the right.”
Without looking at Nate, Quinn left.
Nate chastised himself. He had no idea what the extenuating circumstances were with this woman, and knew he was in no position to judge Quinn’s actions. Chances were, he would have done the same thing. He was just surprised, that’s all.
“How about a beer?” Daeng asked, holding out an opened bottle of Chang.
“Thanks,” Nate said, taking it from him. He drank deeply then set the bottle on the counter.
Daeng nodded in the direction Quinn had gone. “Your friend-he’s searching.”
Nate picked up the beer again. “Searching?”
“When a soul gets unhinged, it is very difficult to return it to where it should be.”
“His soul is unhinged?”
“What would you call it?”
Nate shrugged, but said nothing. The truth was, it was a pretty accurate description. Having his family threatened had obviously sent Quinn reeling. But his mother was fine, as was his sister. Nate knew that firsthand. He’d been with Liz a few weeks earlier.
Outside, one of the kids screamed, then laughed. Nate turned to see a small boy running across the lawn with three other chasing him. “Are any of those kids yours?”
Daeng shook his head. “No. I don’t have any.”
“Oh. I just thought…” He trailed off, unsure what to say next.
“They’re Burmese,” Daeng said.
“I’m sorry?”
“The children. The women, too. They’re Burmese.”
“Refugees?”
“Yes.”
“I thought the situation in Burma was getting better.”
“Yes, but it still has a long way to go.” He looked out the window. “They’ve been in camps in Thailand for years. Most of those kids have never even been in Burma.”
“They live here with you now?”
Daeng shook his head. “Only visit. When I can, I have some of them smuggled down here, so they can have a little time away from the camps. They’ll have to go back soon.”
Nate looked out at the kids again, wondering, not for the first time, exactly who Daeng was.
Before he could ask anything more, Quinn returned.
“Thank you for delivering the message, Nate, but it probably would be best if you went home now,” Quinn said. “What I need to do next will be best handled on my own.”
“Look,” Nate said. “If I sounded disrespectful, I’m sorry. I didn’t-”
“That’s not it at all. You said what you needed to say. The questions you asked were ones I would have asked in your place. But this is something you shouldn’t be involved in. It happened before you were around so you’re untainted. Go. Get out of here. I don’t need you.”
“Damn,” Nate said, a mischievous grin on his face. “Sounds like you’re breaking up with me.”
From the look in Quinn’s eyes, it was obvious he didn’t see the humor in the situation. As he was about to say something, Nate held up a hand, stopping him.
“I don’t care when this thing happened. I’m pretty sure you’re going to need some help, so I’m not going anywhere.”
“This isn’t your-”
“You can kick me out, but I’ll just follow you. And I’m good now, too. Real good. You know you won’t be able to lose me.”
“I can’t ask you to get involved.”
“You’re right. But I can volunteer. And I do.”
Quinn looked at him for a moment longer, then his gaze strayed to the bottle of Chang on the bar. He turned to Daeng. “Please tell me you have more of those.”
The problem was, Nate was right. Integrity was the backbone of being a good cleaner.
A cleaner’s job was to make bodies disappear, or, at the very least, make it appear as though the victim died by some other means than the real one. With full access to the scene of the event, a cleaner was entrusted with evidence that would not only put the actual killers in jail for the rest of their lives, but the clients, too. A sloppy cleaner could accidentally leave some of this behind, whether at the scene or the place they got rid of the body or someplace else entirely. An unscrupulous cleaner could purposely do the same. Soon word would get out about those types, and work would dry up if the cleaners in question weren’t killed outright. Integrity, performing to a higher standard, playing straight with clients-these were the things that kept work coming in.
With Mila, Quinn had broken that code.
When he had stood in Daeng’s bathroom after walking out of the kitchen, rubbing his face with his hands, he knew he couldn’t put Nate in a situation that might ruin his future. Was he surprised when Nate refused to walk away? No.
What he actually experienced was relief, and that just made him feel worse.
“So, what’s the mission?” Nate asked, quickly glancing at Daeng and back at Quinn. “Or…?”
“Daeng’s already agreed to help me,” Quinn said.
“Wait. You didn’t want me tainted, but you’re not worried about him?”
“I worry about everything, but Daeng’s as stubborn as you are.”
Nate shook his head, then shrugged. “All right, then, I’ll ask again. What’s the mission?”
“Simple. We find Mila.”
“And then?” Nate asked.
“We cover her tracks and make her vanish again.”
“What if she doesn’t cooperate?”
“Then we’ll have to figure out a way to convince her.”
“You’re running this show,” Nate said. “If that’s what you want to do, that’s what we do.”
“Thanks,” Quinn told him, meaning it.
“When do we start?”
“Now.” Quinn held out his hand. “I need to borrow your phone.”
Quinn carried Nate’s mobile into the living room. He selected a name from Nate’s contact list, then hit CONNECT. Once he did, he had a sudden urge to hang up as quickly as possible, but instead he raised the phone to his ear.
One p.m. in Bangkok meant it was eleven p.m. in San Francisco the day before. Would she still be up? Or would he wake her? It had been three months since he’d last talked to her. No, he realized. Four. Oh, God.
Orlando answered after one ring. “Did you find him?”
She obviously thought Nate was calling. “He did.”
He wasn’t sure how to read the pause that followed. Anger? Disinterest? Annoyance?
“Hey,” she finally said, that single syllable adding nothing to his understanding of what she might have been thinking.
“I’m…I’m sorry. It’s been a while.”
“It has.”
She is not making this easy.
“I…I just…”
“Are you calling to chat? If you are, you’re doing a pretty bad job.”
“No. I, um, need your help.”
“Of course you do.” She paused. “Mila Voss, right?”
“Yes.”
“Figured. I’ve already pulled everything together I could find so far. I’ll email it to you.”
“Thank you. Peter put a video up on ADR-3, security footage of Mila showing up at a hotel in Tanzania. There’s a dead guy in the shot, too. Peter didn’t tell me who he was. I was wondering if you could find out? Maybe even see if there’s a connection between the corpse and Mila?”
“I can try,” she said, sounding somewhat resigned. “You know, I met her once.”
“You did?”
“She was working on an assignment that ran in tandem with something Durrie and I were on.” Quinn’s late mentor had once been Orlando’s boyfriend, not to mention the father of her son, Garrett. “I liked her. I was sad when I heard she died.”
“She didn’t die.”
“So I gather. You had something to do with that?”
“Yes.”
Nothing for a moment, then, “I’ll find out what I can and get back to you.”