Мэри Эндрюс - The Newcomer

Vikki Hill was in her motel room, typing up her field notes, such as they were, when her phone rang. UNKNOWN CALLER.

She tapped ACCEPT.

His voice was muted by the background noise of street traffic, but she knew instantly that the caller was Wingfield. She tapped the record icon on the phone.

“Hey, Vikki,” he said casually. “I’ve been trying to call you for two days. Where you been?”

“I didn’t have any messages or missed calls on my phone. Doesn’t sound like you were trying very hard, Evan. What’s up?”

“Just responding to your last text. Where’d you say you are now?”

“I didn’t say. Because you don’t really want to know. But I did manage to locate your missing friend, just in case you’re still interested,” Agent Hill said.

“Yeah. Huh. That is interesting. Well, what did you have in mind?”

“Are you still playing games?” Vikki said, making her annoyance clear. “Like I told you, I found a guy who can take care of things. He checks out. But he doesn’t work for free, and neither do I.”

“How do you know he checks out? That he isn’t a cop?”

“He used to be a cop. That’s how I know him. But there were some … unfounded accusations, shall we say, of excessive force. Now he works private security at some clubs, and he does some freelance work.”

“What’s his name?”

Vikki’s laugh was low and unamused. “Listen, Evan. I’ve put some time and effort into this, you know. I do have an actual job, despite what you think about civil servants. I tracked this guy down, told him a little bit about the job, negotiated terms. You’re dicking around, and it’s making me look bad. I’ll tell you what. Forget it. I’m done.”

She tapped END CALL and waited. She tried to go back to her notes, but was too antsy to concentrate. She went to the tiny kitchen and poured herself another mug of coffee. By the time she got back to the table that served as her desk, the phone was ringing again. Another unknown caller.

She was about to hit ACCEPT when the phone alerted her to an incoming text from Joe.

Heard anything?

The agent typed as quickly as she could.

He’s playing hard to get. Two can play at that.

The phone rang a second time.

Now someone was knocking on the door of the efficiency. “Housekeeping!” The door opened and a woman’s head popped in. “Oh, I’m sorry.…” She held out a stack of clean towels.

“Not now!” Vikki yelled.

“Sorry!” The woman left, and the agent got up and slammed the door, securing the security latch this time.

She rushed back to the phone, then tapped ACCEPT. “Hi. What’s it gonna be?”

“Okay, yeah,” Evan said. “Let’s do it.” His voice was clearer now. No traffic noise. He’d gone inside somewhere.

“Do what?” Vikki said a silent prayer that Wingfield would spell out his intentions.

“What we discussed. But I want it done right. She should just … disappear. Like, for real. I don’t want anything showing up that could be traced back to me. Is your guy capable of something like that? Is he smart enough not to get caught?”

“He’s not exactly Snow White. From what I’ve heard, it’s not his first rodeo,” Vikki drawled. “What about the price? He won’t budge, and neither will I.”

“You know what they say about greediness, right?” His tone was ominous. “Pigs get fat. Hogs get slaughtered.”

“Is that a threat?” Her voice grew shrill. “Fuck you, okay? I’m going out on a limb in a major way here. Setting up a hit on somebody is a lot more serious than looking the other way when you set up another illegal Airbnb in a building in Brooklyn. How do I know you won’t turn around and blame this whole thing on me once this girl is dead? For all I know, you could be ratting me out to the city right now, you creep.…”

“Hey, chill, Vikki,” Evan said hastily. “Nobody’s ratting anybody out. This is a negotiation, right? It’s nothing personal. It’s just how I do business. You made an offer, I made a counter, which you rejected. Jesus! Doesn’t mean the deal’s off the table. Calm down, okay?”

“You know what?” she said heatedly. “I am so over guys telling me to calm down, I could puke. Just tell me, do we have a deal? Fifty thousand. Final offer.”

“Yeah. It’s a deal. Couple things. I’m gonna need proof that the deed is done.”

“That’s crazy. You want her disappeared, there won’t be any proof.”

“A photo’s good. But I want to be able to tell it’s Letty, not some homeless bag lady you snatched off the street. I’ve seen that episode of Law & Order. ”

“Okay. That sounds doable,” Agent Hill said. “What else?”

“My daughter. I don’t want her hurt. Make sure she’s nowhere near Letty when it happens. You understand? And then, I want you, personally, to deliver her back to me.”

“Me? I’m not a child welfare worker, Evan. I don’t even like kids.”

“You’ll get over it. She’s a sweet kid. Nothing like her mother. One more thing. I want this done. Now. Like, this weekend. Maya’s been gone almost a month. No telling what she’s been through. I’ll probably still be paying for a shrink when she’s in college.”

“I don’t know,” Agent Hill objected. “My guy might not be ready. He’s gonna have to do some legwork to set up everything. Also, he’s gonna want half up front.”

“This weekend,” Wingfield repeated. “Or the deal’s off. Also, half won’t work. I’ll transfer ten thousand dollars into your account this afternoon. You’ll get the rest when I get proof.”

He hung up before she could offer any more lame objections.

Agent Hill disconnected, too. She went back to her text chain with DeCurtis and began typing.

GAME ON.

36

MELTDOWN OVER, MAYA SAT AT her red table, contentedly sucking on the cherry Popsicle Ava had fetched from her apartment above the office.

“Letty, is there any way you can go to the grocery store this morning and pick up the stuff for Bingo Night?” Ava asked. “I want to be here when the pest-control guy arrives. There are ants all over the pool patio, and the Feldman girls said they’ve seen some of those damned German roaches in their unit. I need to walk him around and point at every place I want sprayed.”

“Happy to do the shopping. I don’t want Maya around when the spraying happens anyway,” Letty said. “Anything else you want me to get while I’m out?”

Ava handed her the shopping list. “This is all for now, but I’ll call you if I think of anything else. Are you sure you don’t want to leave Maya here with me?”

At the mention of her name, Maya looked up. Her face and hands were smeared with sticky red Popsicle juice. “I go to store.”

“Thanks, I appreciate the offer, but she’s been pretty clingy all morning,” Letty said. “I’d better take her along.”

She turned and held out a hand to her niece. “Let’s go home and get you washed up before the store. Okay?”

“Okay,” Maya said.

Letty was in the produce aisle at Publix, picking through a bin of avocados, trying to find the elusive—not hard as a rock, not on the verge of rot—when the man on the other side of the display nodded and smiled in her direction.

Letty gave him a curt nod. She chose four avocados, bagged them, and placed them in her shopping cart. Maya was sitting in the bottom of the cart, leafing through the pages of her sticker book.

“How many avocados did we choose?” Letty asked. She’d read somewhere about teachable moments, and had already gotten her niece started with counting, an activity Maya loved almost as much as spelling.