Тесс Герритсен - I Know a Secret

My cell phone chimes with a text message from Everett.

Arghhh, sorry! Last-minute meeting with client. Can’t make it tonight. Call you tomorrow?

I don’t bother to answer him. Instead, I pick up the glass and give it a swirl. I’ve already tasted this cabernet, so I know it’s pedestrian and not worth a second pouring, but it’s not the wine I’m contemplating; it’s what my next move should be. Should I invite her to my table and let the game begin?

“What the hell does she think she’s doing?” said Jane.

Through Jane’s earpiece, Tam’s voice was almost lost in the background noise of the pub. “She’s not drinking the wine. She’s just sitting there, swirling it.”

“We warned her. We told her his victims were drugged.” She looked at Frost, seated beside her in the car. “Is this chick trying to get herself killed?”

“Okay, hold on,” said Tam. “There’s a woman moving toward her table. She’s saying something to Holly.”

Jane stared out her car window at the Rose and Thistle across the street. Half an hour earlier, Tam had reported that Holly was sitting alone in the pub, a development that sent both Jane and Frost scrambling to the scene. Not only had Holly refused to alter her daily routine, now she seemed to be actively courting disaster. Holly Devine hadn’t struck Jane as a foolhardy woman, yet there she was, accepting drinks from strangers.

“The woman sat down at Holly’s table,” Tam informed her. “White female, middle-aged. Tall and thin.”

“Has Holly tasted the wine yet?”

“No. They’re just talking. Maybe they know each other. I can’t be sure.”

“Tam should move in,” said Frost. “Get her out of that place.”

“No. Let’s see what happens next.”

“What if she drinks the wine?”

“We’re right here to keep an eye on her.” Jane stared at the pub. “Maybe that’s why she’s doing it. She’s trying to bring the killer to us. Either she’s really stupid or she’s really, really smart. I’m betting on smart.”

“Now we’ve got a problem,” came Tam’s voice over the earpiece.

“What’s happening?” snapped Jane.

“She took a sip.”

“And the other woman? What’s she doing?”

“Still sitting there. Nothing weird yet. They’re just talking.”

Jane glanced at the time on her cell phone. How quickly did ketamine work? Would they be able to tell if Holly was affected? Five minutes passed. Ten.

“Oh, shit. They’re both getting up. They’re leaving,” said Tam.

“We’re parked right in front. We’ll catch them as they walk out.”

“They’re not going out the front door! They’re heading to the back exit. I’m in pursuit...”

“That’s it,” said Frost. “We gotta go in.”

Almost simultaneously, Jane and Frost shoved open their doors and sprinted across the street. Jane was first through the front door and she plunged into the packed room, elbowing aside patrons as she shoved her way toward the rear exit. A glass shattered on the floor and she heard a what the fuck, lady? yelled in her direction, but she and Frost kept pushing forward, past three women waiting for the restroom, and slammed through the rear exit door.

An alley. Dark. Where was Holly?

From the far end of the alley came a woman’s shouts.

They darted toward the sound, dodging crates and trash, and emerged on the street, where Tam had already pinned a woman against the wall. Nearby stood Holly, watching in bewilderment as Tam snapped handcuffs onto the woman.

“What the hell are you doing?” the woman protested.

“Boston PD,” said Tam. “Stop resisting!”

“You can’t arrest me! I didn’t do anything!”

Tam glanced over his shoulder at Jane and Frost. “She tried to run.”

“Of course I ran! I didn’t know who the fuck you were, coming at us in the alley.”

As Tam held the woman against the building, Jane did a pat-down and found no weapons.

Someone yelled from the sidewalk, “That was police brutality!”

“Smile, cops! You’re on Candid Camera !”

Jane glanced around at the crowd that was rapidly coalescing around them. Everyone had a cell phone out, recording the arrest. Keep cool, she thought. Just do your job and don’t let them rattle you.

“State your name,” Jane ordered the woman.

“Who wants to know?”

“Detective Rizzoli, Boston PD.”

Frost picked up the woman’s purse, which had dropped on the sidewalk, and pulled out the wallet. “Her driver’s license says she’s Bonnie B. Sandridge, age forty-nine. Address is two twenty-three Bogandale Road.” He looked up. “That’s in West Roxbury.”

“Sandridge?” Jane frowned. “You’re the journalist.”

“You know this woman?” Tam asked.

“Yeah. I spoke to her a few days ago. Her name turned up on Martin Stanek’s phone log. She claims she’s a journalist writing about the Apple Tree trial.”

Tam turned the woman around to face them. The struggle had left a bloody scrape on her chin, and mascara was smeared down her cheek.

“Yes, I really am a journalist,” said the woman. “And, trust me, I’m going to write about this arrest!”

“What’s your relationship to Martin Stanek?” said Jane.

The woman glared at her. “Is that what this is all about? Instead of tackling me, you could have asked politely.”

“Answer the question.”

“I already told you. I’ve been interviewing him for my book.”

“The book you claim to be writing.”

“Talk to my literary agent. She’ll confirm it. I’m a journalist and I’m just doing my job.”

“And I’m just doing mine.” Jane looked at Tam. “Bring her in. I want every word she says recorded on video.”

“Why’s she being arrested? What’d she do?” someone yelled from the crowd.

“I’m a writer! I didn’t do anything wrong!” Bonnie yelled back. “Except try to tell the truth about our corrupt criminal-justice system!”

“This video’s going up on YouTube, lady. In case you need it for the lawsuit!”

Tam led away the defiant prisoner. Among the crowd of eager citizen-journalists stood Holly, who also had her phone out and was filming the events like everyone else.

Jane grabbed Holly by the arm and pulled her aside. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Did I do something wrong?” Holly protested.

“You went to a bar, after I warned you what could happen.”

“I was there to meet a friend.”

“That woman?”

“No, a guy I’m dating. But at the last minute he canceled on me.”

“So you sat there and accepted a drink from someone you don’t know.”

“She looked okay to me.”

“They said that about Ted Bundy too.”

“She’s just a woman. What’s a woman going to do to me?”

“I told you, Martin Stanek is not working alone. He has a partner helping him, and it might be this woman.”

“Well, now you’ve got her, right? And you can thank me for helping you catch her.”

“You’re going home, Holly.” Jane pulled out her cell phone. “In fact, I’m gonna make sure you go home.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m calling an officer to drive you.”

“That’s embarrassing. I’m not getting into a police car.”

“What if she put something in your drink? You need to be driven home.”

“No.” Holly pulled away. “I feel perfectly fine. Look, there’s a T station right over there. You’ve got your suspect; now I’m going home.” She turned and walked away.

“Hey!” yelled Jane.

Holly just kept walking. Without a single backward glance, she headed down the steps and vanished into the subway station.