Lynne Heitman - The Pandora Key aka The Hostage Room

“The time for what?”

The clock began to chime. It was nine o’clock. He waited until all nine bells had sounded. “To turn myself in.”

“To turn yourself in for what?”

“For the murder of Vladi Tishchenko.”

“Vladi Tishchenko? Drazen’s brother? Drazen’s much-loved and sorely missed brother?” I thought maybe we were joking again, but he seemed perfectly serious. I considered sitting down, but I knew I couldn’t stay down. “I thought Roger killed Vladi.”

“Roger Fratello did not kill Vladi, and if he comes back here, he will undoubtedly say so.”

“Then who did? Because I know it wasn’t you. I know-” That was when I got it. I finally got it, and everything made sense. Horrible sense. “Rachel killed Vladi. That’s what this is about. Rachel killed Vladi, Roger knows that, and that’s why you got him out of town. You did exactly what Ling said you did.”

“Yes.”

“And you did it to protect her.”

“Yes.”

I hadn’t had much sleep, I was feeling like crap, and I still had a Drazen hangover, but I managed to come up with the relevant question. “Why did she kill him?”

“He tried to rape her. It was self-defense. But that would not matter to a man like Drazen Tishchenko. He will kill Rachel if he finds out. Roger Fratello can never come back here.”

“If Drazen thinks you did it, he’ll kill you.”

His face went slack, and his lips parted. His jaw began to quiver under his jowls. “How do you know what he would think?” His voice was shaky. Drazen had that effect on people.

“Who do you think snatched you? Bo and I killed three of his men last night getting you home. That’s where I was this morning, having breakfast with him and trying to make amends.”

“What did you tell him?”

A car pulled up outside. I checked through the blinds. Our guests had arrived. “That I would find Roger Fratello. In exchange, he promised to forgive and forget and to leave you alone.”

“Why would you do that? I never asked you to do that.” He tried to press his lips together. He tried to look stern, but his chin was quivering. “Why would you do that?”

“You are my partner and my friend. There is no other choice I could have made. Don’t you get that?”

Two car doors slammed in quick succession. Ling and Southern would be walking up the driveway. I needed time to think.

“All right, look. I can figure this out. I know I can.” I started doing laps around the couch. “There is a way to make this work so that no one gets killed. I know there is, and I know I can find it. But I can’t do it if you’re in FBI custody, I can’t do it if I’m worried about Drazen coming after you, and I can’t do it right this second.” I stopped in front of his wheelchair. “I need for you to give me a little time.”

“How much time?”

“I don’t know. But more than the thirty seconds it’s going to take for them to get to the door. I need you to stall them.”

“What would I say? I am the one who called them.”

“I don’t know, just please don’t say you killed anyone. Don’t confess to something you didn’t do. At least give me the rest of today.”

There was a loud knock on the door. They’d probably been standing out there for a while, not knowing the doorbell was broken.

“What’s it going to be, Harvey?”

He seemed a little more crumpled than usual in his chair, and he was starting to wheeze. “I will do what you ask,” he said. “Under one condition.”

Everyone had conditions. How come I never got to set the terms? “What condition?”

“If it comes down to it and you have to choose, you must promise me that you will choose Rachel.” He might have looked crumpled and sounded spent, but his tone was firm.

“If I have to choose between you and Rachel, you want me to choose her?”

“I am sorry. I am truly sorry, and I believe that you can figure all of this out. But I have to know that if you cannot, or if you cannot in time, Rachel will be safe.”

The pounding on the door began in earnest. Ling and Southern had already come in once with guns drawn. It was time to make a decision.

“Fine. I promise. But here’s my condition. After they leave, you have to tell me what it is about this woman that would make you want to die for her.” Because I just didn’t get it.

SPECIAL AGENTS LING AND SOUTHERN LOOKED LIKE CIRCUS clowns through the parabolic lens of the peephole, but when I opened the door, they were all business.

Southern stepped up. “Where is he?”

“In his office.”

He brushed past me and headed down the hallway. Ling wiped his feet on the mat. “Thank you,” he said. I tried to look as if I knew what for. He smiled. “For having Harvey call.”

“Oh, absolutely. I insisted.”

He let me lead the way to the office, where I was surprised to find Harvey on his feet. He was leaning on his cane but mostly upright. After he confirmed that he was who he was, Ling flashed his ID and introduced himself and Southern. “We’d like to talk to you alone.”

“Excuse me, Special Agent Ling,” I said, “but I already feel involved in this because of our interview yesterday. I would like to stay.”

“I’m sure you would, but have you checked with your partner?”

Harvey wobbled a little as he blinked at me from behind those thick lenses. My jaw tightened, my stiff neck throbbed, and I knew there was still the chance that he would choose today to throw himself under the bus for Rachel. I knew that’s what his instincts told him to do.

“Miss Shanahan is my partner,” he said finally. “Whatever you need, I am sure we can both help you.” He gestured to the small seating area. “Do come in and sit down.”

Ling dropped onto the couch-right on top of my casework-and made himself comfortable. I almost expected him to prop his feet up on the coffee table. Southern, something less than comfortable but not exactly jittery, found a place against the bookshelves and stood there, holding a manila file flat against his chest. Harvey worked his way over and lowered himself into the wingback. I stayed close to the door. Normally, I would have wanted to watch Ling’s face, but for this discussion, I needed to keep an eye on my partner.

“We were looking for you yesterday,” Ling said to Harvey. “You weren’t home.”

“Yes, I understand. I am sorry I missed you.”

“Where were you?”

Harvey glanced at me. He had never been good with lies, either the commission or the omission kind. He blinked too much or shifted around in his seat. He pushed at the bridge of his glasses or pitched his voice too high. That he exhibited none of these nervous tics as he sat under the watchful gaze of the FBI was alarming. I was afraid he was about to tell them the truth.

“I was…shopping.”

Southern rolled his eyes, I exhaled, and Ling reached over and picked at a small water stain on the linen covering the arm of the couch. He was precise about it. “Really? What did you get?”

“I have been thinking of investing in a new chair.” Harvey nodded in the direction of his old wheelchair across the room. “That one has seen better days. But they are very expensive. I made no purchases.”

“You left your music on,” Ling said, “and we almost shot your partner. She was very concerned about you.”

“Yes.” Harvey chuckled. “She made me apologize profusely.”

Ling turned enough to show me his profile. “Then there was nothing to worry about after all?”

“He forgot to turn on his phone. I should have known.”

Harvey shifted in the wingback. His legs were probably bothering him. “How can I help you gentlemen?”