It had been hard to convince Kim to help her, but she couldn’t see any other way around it. She needed to leave the house undetected, and she needed transportation that wouldn’t raise suspicion. Kim and Giorgio had arranged to go out to a movie, and it had presented Tess with an opportunity she couldn’t pass up.
She hadn’t yet told her mom or Alex about Reilly’s predicament-not about his capture, nor his escape. She decided she’d wait to see how tonight played out before doing so. Kim, on the other hand, now knew something was seriously wrong. When she’d come in to Tess’s bedroom to tell her about the weird message she’d received, Tess had closed the door behind her and led her into the bathroom. Talking low out of paranoia regarding long-range listening devices, she’d whispered her instructions to her daughter. Once she’d thought up the rest of her plan, she’d then told Kim about it, but hadn’t said any more than what she needed to say to get her daughter to play ball. It hadn’t been easy. The repeated hushed protests about missing out on her date were hard to put down. Eventually, though, Kim had grudgingly agreed.
Presently, Tess had to get into gear.
She went downstairs and announced that she was going to run a bath and get some “me time”, all while avoiding her mother’s dubious, probing look. She said she’d make herself a bowl of granola afterwards and left her mom to sort out dinner for just herself and Alex, since Kim was about to head out to a movie and, most likely, a pizza, with her boyfriend. Tess then headed back upstairs and began setting the scene.
She filled the bath, leaving the door open so the sound of the running water percolated downstairs. While it was running, she hastily put on Kim’s oversized tan parka, her signature beanie, snow boots and thick polka-dotted scarf, then she checked herself in the mirror. It was odd to see herself dressed like that, though there was nothing shocking about it. It was hardly an embarrassing MuDAL moment-yet another of the hip acronyms Kim had taught her with a roll of the eyes, Mutton Dressed As Lamb. Not in that garb. Had this been summer, things might have been different, but she was too covered up for the cold to feel even a tinge of a Peter Pan Syndrome moment-another one of Kim’s useful lessons.
Once she was done, she switched on the speaker system by her bed and selected a calming Coldplay playlist on her iPod. She then turned off the bedroom lights, dimmed the lights in the bathroom, and, after checking the front of the house for any signs of life from the window, she waited.
Right on cue, Giorgio’s old Jeep pulled into up outside.
She grabbed the backpack and stepped into the hallway, where she called out to Kim.
“Honey, G’s here.”
“OK,” came Kim’s halfhearted attempt at an enthusiastic reply.
“I know it’s Saturday night, but don’t be back too late,” Tess said out loud as she took the stairs down to the front hall. A wall shielded her from the couch and the TV, and she tensed up for a second as she reached the door, hoping her mom didn’t get up or come out of the kitchen to say goodbye to her granddaughter. She was clear as she stepped outside, the hood of Kim’s parka pulled over her beanie.
She did her best to imitate Kim’s teen gait as she made her way down the path to Giorgio’s waiting car. Without glancing back toward the FBI sedan or the van further away, she climbed into the car.
Giorgio’s face went all wide with surprise. “Mrs. Chaykin?”
“Just drive, Giorgio.”
“But-”
Tess shot him a firm look and pointed ahead. “Drive, will you? I’ll explain later.”
Giorgio put the Wrangler into gear and pulled away from the house. Tess hazarded a discreet glance back, although given the darkness and the steam obscuring the rear windshield, there was little chance the agents staking out the house were going to recognize her.
She allowed herself a small smile. It had worked. No one was following. She nodded to herself, pleased at how she’d been inspired by both Reilly’s recounting of Daland’s arrest and the fact that she still had the physique to pull this off. It helped that Kim was now less than an inch shorter than her own five foot seven.
She stared ahead, heart pounding at the thought of being able to feel Reilly’s arms around her again shortly.
From the unmarked sedan down the street, Lendowski watched Tess Chaykin’s daughter climb into the Jeep and head off.
Deutsch had already run the plates while the car idled outside the house. The information had matched the data coming back from Stingray, telling them the car was the girl’s boyfriend’s.
“Dad’s on the run and wanted for murder and she’s going out on a date,” he said with disdain. “Kids today. Christ.”
“Maybe she doesn’t know,” Deutsch said.
Lendowski just let out a sarcastic shrug for an answer.
His target was still inside the house. As he kept his gaze fixed on it, he wondered if Reilly would really be stupid enough to try meeting with Tess. You didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to know about the astonishing number of fugitives who were caught simply because they made contact with family members.
His BlackBerry vibrated. He glanced at the screen’s caller ID. He glanced at Deutsch and gestured back at the van with his thumb as he picked up. “What’s up?”
“Something’s off. We think she’s on the move.”
Lendowski didn’t get it. Why the hell would they be tracking the girl’s phone? “I know, I just saw her leave.”
“Chaykin?”
“No, numbnuts. The daughter.”
The Stingray operator in the van clarified. “Not the daughter, doofus. Chaykin herself.”
“Negative. I’ve got eyes on the house. Chaykin’s still at home. That was the daughter.”
“Then how do you explain the stream of Facebook and Instagram messages flying back and forth from her laptop?”
Her laptop? “What about her phone?”
“It’s powered down. We can’t track it.”
Which didn’t make sense. Why would the girl switch off her phone? What teenager did that-ever?
Lendowski scowled as he realized what had happened. The bitches were playing him.
“Hang on.” He turned to Deutsch. “Something’s wrong.” He thought fast. “Check the house, see if Chaykin’s still inside. I’m going after the boyfriend’s car.”
Deutsch didn’t argue. “Damn it,” she muttered as she hurried out.
She’s barely slammed the door shut as Lendowski was already powering away from the curb.
Sandman was sitting in the darkness of Aparo’s apartment when his encrypted phone vibrated with an incoming text message.
It read:
CHAYKIN’S ON THE MOVE
He deleted it, then settled back into the uncomfortable armchair that faced the front door. As he checked the silenced handgun in his lap, he ran through his plan once more, making sure there were no wrinkles.
The location Reilly had chosen to meet his woman was going to be a boon. After all, Sandman mused, what better place for an agent to commit suicide than the apartment of his recently deceased partner? A death for which, in his delusional, troubled state of mind, he could conceivably blame himself.
29
It didn’t take long for Lendowski to catch up with the Jeep. Mamaroneck was a small town and there weren’t too many options if one was aiming to leave it. North or south on the Boston Post Road if you wanted a slow amble, or the thruway if you were on any kind of schedule. Most people going anywhere took Mamaroneck Avenue up to the thruway’s on-ramps.
He caught up with the Jeep just as it was turning onto the Post Road and stayed well back, not wanting to give his quarry any chance of knowing he was there. Then he remembered his cash-only employer and what he’d been asked to do. As the Jeep turned left onto Fenimore, he pulled out his phone and dialed the number.
As before, the man answered promptly. “What’s going on?”
“I’m on Chaykin’s tail,” Lendowski told him. “She’s on her way to meet Reilly.”