J. Jance: Fatal Error

“Look, if we had known how dangerous she was-”

“I’m not buying that,” Ali said. “You did know. Someone from your agency had already spoken to Detective Laughlin. You endangered any number of lives in order to protect your ‘mission,’ and now you’re going to try to cover it up. Good luck with that. You underestimated Ermina Blaylock, and I suspect you’re underestimating Gil and me too. When this is all over, I suggest you send yourself back to the academy for some remedial classes in fatal errors-you know, those ten mistakes cops make that end up getting them killed? Failure to call for backup is one of the biggies, but what if the agent in charge fails to call for backup? What then?

“You’re all focused on your fancy electronic gizmos. Great, but what about your people? What about leaving Agent Sinclair on the street without any kind of backup? The only backup he had was Gil Morris and Ali Reynolds. If it hadn’t been for us, Ermina might have gotten away and claimed another victim in the process.”

With that, Ali pushed back her chair and stood up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a phone call to make. There’s a woman in Sacramento who needs to know that her supposedly dead daughter isn’t dead!”

Ali stalked out of the conference room with Gil on her heels. “Remind me not to make you mad,” he said.

“He deserved it,” Ali replied.

Out in the lobby, a guy wearing a yellow Hertz shirt flagged Ali down and handed her a new rental agreement and a new set of keys.

“It’s just like the one you had before,” he said. “Another Marquis. It’s parked in a loading zone just outside the hospital entrance. There’s an FBI agent waiting beside the door. He told me to tell you your property has already been loaded.”

“In other words, here’s our hat, what’s our hurry,” Ali said. Taking the keys, she walked back to the ER admitting desk. “Can you tell me anything about Ms. Riley?” Ali asked. “I’m about to call her mother.”

“You’re not a relative?”

“No. I’m a friend.”

“Then I’m not authorized. .”

Ali walked away without waiting for the usual speech about patient confidentiality. The whole thing seemed wrong somehow. It was due to Ali and Gil’s efforts that Brenda Riley was even alive, not to mention in a hospital with a possibility of surviving. Still, by federal mandate, her rescuers weren’t allowed to know anything about her condition.

“Let’s go,” she said.

“Where?” Gil asked. “It’s almost midnight.”

“I don’t care how late it is,” Ali said. “I’ve got a two-bedroom apartment waiting for me in Laguna Beach and I’m going there. I’ll make my phone calls along the way. Now, are you coming along or are you staying here?”

“Oh, I’m coming along all right,” Gil said, dropping into step beside her. “I just used up all my available credit buying household goods at Target. You dragged me down here where I have no car, no place to stay, no money, and no way to get back home. In other words, if I don’t go with you, I’m pretty much screwed.”

“Not so much,” Ali said. “You remember all that money Sam Hollingshead was just saying he couldn’t find? Ermina couldn’t find it either. You gave Hollingshead those two thumb drives, and he was ecstatic. He’s not going to give a damn about that missing money. There’s no one left to look for it.”

“But-”

Ali stopped him with an upraised hand. “We’ve both just had a lesson in the FBI’s high cost of doing business,” she observed. “If somebody happens to die here and there along the way, so what? Let’s not ‘endanger’ the precious mission. And if Hollingshead has to make a plea deal in a homicide or two in order to nail their man or woman, that’s no big deal either, right? What if Richard Lowensdale’s missing money is part of the same thing-the high cost of their doing business? It’s a lot like my wrecked car. Never happened. No questions asked. It would serve them right.”

Gil didn’t know her well enough to be able to tell if she was joking or not, but he assumed she was.

When they got outside, the agent they’d been told about was indeed keeping a discreet eye on Ali’s newly rented Marquis. He moved away when they approached the vehicle and Ali used a button on the key fob to unlock the door.

They stopped on opposite sides of the car, looking at each other over the top of it. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re a pushy broad?” Gil asked. “Smart but very pushy.”

She grinned back at him. “Believe me, Detective Morris, you’re not the first to tell me that, and you won’t be the last.”

“By the way,” he added, “just for the record. That was one sweet hip toss.”

“It’s my specialty,” she said. “Best thing I ever learned at the Arizona Police Academy.”

Laguna Beach, California

When they arrived at Velma’s condominium building at two o’clock in the morning, it seemed to Ali that the doorman leered at them a little as he let them into the building. She didn’t bother explaining to him that their being together didn’t mean they were together. If the doorman had a dirty mind, it was none of Ali’s business.

Once in the unit, they took one cursory look at the nighttime ocean view from the balcony, then they disappeared into their separate bedrooms. Ali fell asleep immediately. The next morning she was up bright and early. She went for a morning stroll on the beach with Maddy Watkins and the three dogs. Two hours later, she was drinking coffee and typing an e-mail to B. when Gil finally made his tardy appearance.

He wandered over to the kitchen counter and poured himself a cup of coffee.

“There are bagels on the counter and cream cheese in the fridge,” she said. “Help yourself.”

Gil found what looked like a bread knife in a utility drawer. When he sliced a sesame bagel in half, he was amazed at how much sharper the knife was than the sole remaining one in his knife block at home. Something else to put on the list for his next household goods extravaganza.

He put the sliced bagel in the toaster and pushed down the button. “How’s your friend this morning?” he asked.

It had taken them close to an hour and a half to drive to Laguna Beach from the hospital in San Diego. They’d done a lot of talking on the way. In the process Ali had told Gil about her dying friend, Velma Trimble.

Ali shook her head. “Not well. I went for a walk on the beach this morning with Maddy and the dogs. She said Velma’s not doing well at all, and she seems anxious about my getting the check she gave me deposited. She’s evidently concerned that there might be some kind of blowback from her son about her making that donation. She wants to be certain all the t’s are crossed and i’s dotted.”

“You’d better handle that today, then,” he said. He sat down across from her and took a sip of his coffee. “Have you heard from Camilla Gastellum?”

Ali nodded. “Valerie, her other daughter, and her husband drove all night. The three of them got to the hospital in San Diego this morning about eight. Brenda is out of the ICU. Her condition has been upgraded from critical to serious. They’re treating her for dehydration. There’s some concern about blood clotting issues as well. She was evidently left sitting in that chair for so long that there’s concern about her developing DVTs.”

“What’s that?”

“Deep vein thrombosis from sitting for long periods of time. Blood clots that form in your legs can break loose and travel to the heart or lung or brain.”

“I’m glad her family is there,” Gil said. “I’ll need to talk to Brenda once she gets back north. It sounds like the actual kidnapping took place in Sacramento, but that all needs to be sorted out. That was my chief on the phone, by the way, calling to give me hell.”