“If you don’t have plans for dinner, Jake, I have spaghetti sauce simmering in a crock pot at home.”
Jake smiled. Janet was a catch for any lucky guy. He had taken her to dinner once years ago. He had no intention of it being any more than a friendly dinner. But she took him home to meet her two young kids. She had been newly divorced at that time and scared to death of being a single parent. She was looking for a father for her kids, but Jake wanted no part of it.
“Thanks, Janet, but I’ll have to take a rain check.” He handed her the container of cookies and brownies. “Here, take these home to the kids.”
He watched her walk away and felt guilty that he couldn’t even bring himself to have a friendly dinner for fear he might give her the wrong impression. She was too nice to be used. That’s basically what he did — used women. And they used him. They each knew ahead of time that the relationship would be purely physical, maybe dinner every now and then. But never any family-type dates like a trip to the zoo or shopping, where the woman would gush over furniture and place settings and make subtle remarks like, “When WE get a place of our own,” or “Wouldn’t it be nice to have…?”
He rubbed his eyes with his palms and stared back at the computer. The printer beeped. He pressed the paper feed button and stood to rip the pages off.
Brandon swaggered in from the break room. “How’s the Dragon Lady? That broad had a hell of a lot of nerve planting ideas into Camille’s head.” He worked a toothpick around between his teeth.
“You should be concentrating more on getting your home life back in order and less about Sergeant Casey.” Jake gathered the pages into a file folder and headed for the elevator.
“My home life is fine, but do let me know if you need any help with your project. It would be my distinct pleasure,” Brandon called out.
Jake stepped onto the elevator and stared back at Brandon. The prick Murphy had filled Brandon in on their conversation.
“Not in this lifetime, ass,” Jake whispered as the elevator doors closed.
Sam closed the glass doors of the fireplace in the study. The flames engulfed the photos, the edges curling up, the paper disintegrating into ashes.
Governor Avery Meacham leaned back against the sofa and heaved a sigh of relief. Due to unexpected meetings, he had been unable to make it to Sam’s until late in the afternoon.
Not an overbearing figure, Governor Meacham looked more like someone’s math teacher. An accountant by trade, he had managed to balance the state’s books with money to spare in the three years he had been in office. He had abolished the school boards his first year, insisted on more parental involvement, and more accountability by the teachers.
Creases had deepened around his eyes as if the whole ordeal had aged him ten years. “I thought I could handle it myself. I thought, naively, that the threats were just that… threats.”
Sam took a seat on the sofa next to Governor Meacham. “What is the significance of July nineteenth?”
“My wife and I are flying to England on the eighteenth to spend time with our son. He’s stationed there, in the Air Force.” Governor Meacham clasped his hands together prayer style. “I wanted my family out of the country if Preston decided to go public with the photos.”
Seeing that the photos had been reduced to ashes, Sam turned off the fireplace just as someone knocked on the study door.
“Are you ready, Dear?” A petite blond wearing a tailored navy suit and a quick smile, peered into the study. Nancy Meacham cradled a box in her hand. Abby followed her in.
“Abby was nice enough to take me out to Alex’s house. He finished repairing my bracelet.”
Avery smiled wearily and stood up. “We really should get going. Our plane is waiting.”
“Thank you for hosting the tea, Dear,” Nancy said to Abby.
“My pleasure.” Abby turned and clasped Avery’s hand.
Sam winced at the sight of Avery’s hand in Abby’s. Sam’s powers were strongest with the dead, but Abby’s were with the living. Sometimes a touch could tell Abby a lot, sometimes nothing. Sam didn’t see any reaction on Abby’s face.
Chapter 38
By eight o’clock in the evening, Jake and Frank had completed the investigation of a homicide at Stateline Liquors. Beat cops had found the nineteen-year-old stock boy four blocks away still carrying the Glock 9mm. A homicide once a month on State Street wasn’t unusual for Chasen Heights.
“You didn’t have to give ALL the cookies to Janet. You could at least have saved me one,” Frank moaned.
“I’m sure Abby has more at home. Quit whining.”
“This kid better do some fast confessing. I don’t plan on spending all night dancin’ around with him.”
Jake’s cellular phone rang. It was Elvis calling to update him on the blurb he had placed in the Korean Today newspaper.
“Anything new?” Jake pulled out a notepad from his shirt pocket. “What time?” He scribbled five-thirty and underlined it. “Call me at the following number.” Jake gave him the phone number for the Suisse Hotel. He wanted the conference call to take place in Carl’s room.
“Elvis has something?” Frank asked after Jake hung up.
“He set up a conference call at five-thirty in the morning. There’s a woman in a town called Yongchou, South Korea, who recognized Hap’s picture.”
Chapter 39
Sam walked up behind Tim Miesner, who was hunched over Sam’s keyboard. A fluff of youthful, sand-colored hair stood straight up on the top of his head. He stared intently at the screen through rimmed glasses.
“I’m sorry finals tied me up.”
“How did you do?”
Tim flashed a smile. “Straight A’s.” Sam patted him on the back. Tim pointed to the screen on her computer. “This lock and key icon on the menu is a tricky one.”
“Just take your time. I only need it yesterday.” Tim looked sharply at her. Sam smiled. She wrote CAIN on a sheet of paper. “Also, see if you can find anyone by this name with a rap sheet.”
“You mean like CIA or Interpol?” His eyes grew wide with anticipation.
She laughed and ran her hand through his hair. “Police, FBI, CIA, whatever your heart desires.” She stood at the door, “Don’t let anyone in but me.”
Jake and Frank walked in through the back door carrying their sportscoats. Frank’s tie was loosened. The front of Jake’s cream-colored knit shirt was damp.
“The motor pool better have the air conditioning in that car fixed by tomorrow or I’m just going to drive my own,” Frank said.
“How did you get in here?” Sam demanded.
Jake dangled his keys in front of Sam, then snapped them away before she had a chance to give them a closer look.
“You made a key to MY house?”
“Abby gave me a spare.” Jake tossed his sportscoat over the back of a kitchen chair.
Sam raised her hands in an I give up gesture. “I want you to listen to something.” She pressed the button on the tape player sitting on the counter.
The two men listened to Preston’s threatening call to Murphy, demanding that he close the case on Hap Wilson. But the most interesting call was to someone named Cain. All Preston had said was, “I have a job for you.”
“This was the morning before Abbott died. The morning before YOU,” Sam pointed an accusing finger at Jake, “removed the bug.”
“That’s reaching, Sam.” Jake pressed the STOP button. “ I have a job for you does NOT mean he hired a hit. The guy could be an auto mechanic.”
Frank checked his beeper, then carried Sam’s cordless phone to the dining room to call the office.
“Sam…” Tim stopped when he saw she had company.
Jake reached out a hand to him. “You must be the boy genius.”
“I guess so.” Tim turned back to Sam. “I’m going to need more time on that lock and key icon menu. And I better use my modem at home to access the CIA and Interpol files.”