Kelley Armstrong - Exit Strategy

I could hear Evelyn in the main room, saying something about Dubois and the contact call. Was there a problem? I scrambled up and threw open the door.

“Have we heard back-?”

I stopped. Evelyn sat on the sofa, in conversation with a man. Only that man wasn’t Jack. It was Quinn. And I was standing in the doorway, half-naked, no wig, no contacts, no makeup. Quinn’s gaze didn’t go to my face first, though. It went to my chest. Or, more accurately, to my torso, emblazoned with the Ontario Police College logo. His eyes lifted to mine. He blinked, realizing I wasn’t wearing a disguise, then looked away. I backpedaled and slammed the door as Evelyn let out an oath.

Evelyn opened the door without knocking.

“Shit, that was a stupid move,” she muttered.

I glared over my shirt collar as I pulled it on. “Yes, I’ve been making a lot of stupid moves lately, but thanks for clarifying that.”

“By ‘stupid move,’ Dee, I meant mine. I should’ve warned you Quinn was here.”

I tugged on my jeans. “Well, I should have woken up enough to think about checking before throwing open the door.”

“I don’t think he got a good look at you. He did the right thing-turned away.”

“It’s not my face I’m worried about. It’s this.” I lifted the police college shirt for her to read before I refolded it into my bag. “That he did see.”

“Shit.”

A soft knock at the door.

“Dee?” Quinn.

I asked him to wait while I looked around for my wig and contacts. When I had them on, I called a welcome. He slid inside. Evelyn hesitated, then left. Quinn stood there as I pulled on my socks.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Hey, you didn’t do anything wrong. You just glanced up when the door opened. And thanks-you know, for looking away when you realized I…”

I let the sentence fade, and picked up my toothpaste. Before I could slip into the bathroom, he grabbed my hand.

“Dee? Whatever I saw? There could be a few explanations, and I have no intention of trying to figure out which one is right.”

“Thanks.”

“How about a trade-off?” He smiled. “One question. Ask me anything.”

When I shook my head, his smile faltered.

“Sure. Okay. I mean, maybe there’s nothing you want-”

“Your eyes,” I said, managing a small smile. “What color are your eyes?”

His grin returned full wattage. “Sure. I can do that-better than that.” He dropped his head forward, reached up and took out his contacts. “There.”

He looked at me. His eyes were light green, the color of new grass.

Quinn moved closer, his head tilting, lips moving down toward mine-

The door banged open and we both jumped back.

“Evelyn told me,” Jack said, by way of introduction. He started crossing the room, then met Quinn’s eyes. A grunt, and his gaze dropped to Quinn’s hand, still cupping his contacts.

“Christ’s sake,” Jack muttered. “Show-and-tell? This isn’t kindergarten.”

“He was just-” I began.

“Leaving,” Jack said. “I need to talk to Dee.”

“It wasn’t Quinn’s-”

“Fault. Yeah. I heard.” He jerked his thumb at the door. “Go call your sources. Dubois doesn’t respond by noon? We call it off.”

Quinn put in his contacts, then squeezed my hand and left.

“There was no need to talk to him that way,” I said. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Besides taking out his contacts?”

“He felt bad, and he wanted to reciprocate-”

“Yeah. He wants to reciprocate. Middle of a fucking job. Starts playing ‘I’ll show you mine.’”

“Actually, I think I showed him mine first.”

“Not on purpose.” Jack moved closer, the edge leaving his voice. “You okay? Evelyn said he saw you. Saw your shirt.”

“Which I should have never brought with me. A dumb move, but it…helps me sleep, and sometimes that’s more important than being careful.”

“I’ve seen the shirt. Had a problem with it? Would have said so. Back to the question. You okay?”

“I’m shaken, but I guess it’s a good lesson for me to be careful all the time, and not relax my guard when I’m with just you and Evelyn.”

“Yeah. Gotta be careful with Evelyn.”

A small smile. “But not you?”

“Not unless I open my mouth. Then I’m dangerous.” He paused. “About yesterday-”

The door swung open.

“Jack? Dee?” Evelyn called. “Dubois bit. He’s in.”

“Now the fun begins,” I murmured.

We’d arranged for our point person to meet Dubois at eleven thirty. Just because he’d agreed to speak to us didn’t mean he’d agree to our plan, but we couldn’t wait to find out. We had too much prep work.

“I ordered the radios yesterday,” Felix said as we ate a late breakfast in our hotel room. “I called this morning and rerouted delivery to a plaza outside town. Quinn? Would you be able to pick those up later?”

“Will do.”

“Need a safe house,” Jack said. “Motel would work. Prefer a house.”

“Easily done,” Felix said. “We’ll locate several for rent, with immediate possession, scout locations, and select one.”

“Hole up in a place for rent?” I said. “Sounds good, but there’s a risk factor, isn’t there? If someone decides to show the place-”

“We’ll rent it,” Felix said. “Cash for a month.”

“Is that-?”

“Safe?” He smiled, and switched to an upper-class British accent. “Hello, I’m Dr. Patterson, and I have a rather…odd request to make. I’m visiting your university and, well, I must admit, I loathe public housing. I believe you have a lovely little place for rent on Main Street? If it wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience, I’d like to let it for the week. I’ll pay you for the entire month, of course, in advance.”

“Works for me,” I said.

“And it has worked for me more times than I can count.”

“Let’s get moving on that,” Jack said. “Dubois comes through? I want keys within the hour. Need time for a thorough examination. No surprises.”

Martin Dubois stirred his coffee, tasted it, then added another sweetener. As he lifted the cup to his lips, he looked over the rim at the clock. Eleven twenty-nine. He’d wait until eleven thirty-five, no longer. Maybe eleven forty, but only if he didn’t finish his coffee before that. He drank slower.

The message had come in last night. An e-mail, sent to his personal account.

Missing a witness? We have her but I think you’d rather have the man who tried to kill her. If so, we can deliver. This is a private transaction. You’ll get your man and all the credit, and we’ll ask for very little in return.

If you wish to discuss this further, please respond to the e-mail address at the bottom with a time and place.

Attached to the e-mail was a photo of a bloodied garrote wire. No one knew that’s what the killer had tried to use. The kids thought he’d been strangling her with a rope, which hadn’t explained her bloodied hands. The wire looked like the same gauge used on the Lee woman. That made sense.

He’d tried to trace the e-mail, of course-using what resources he could without arousing suspicion-but the trail ended at a dead account. So he’d done the only thing he could: responded with a time and place. Here and now.

They’d expected him to come alone. He hadn’t, of course. He was ambitious-not crazy. But he’d told the young agent accompanying him only that he was meeting a witness in a public place and wanted backup, then positioned him across the room, where he could watch for trouble, but couldn’t overhear the conversation.

Had it been any other case, there would have been a team of agents with him, ready to take into custody whoever showed up. But this was the case of a lifetime, one that every agent dreamed of-a dream that was fast turning into a nightmare.