Мэри Эндрюс - The Newcomer

“That’s the idea,” Vikki agreed. “As far as Wingfield knows.”

Agent Hill placed her phone on the table and played the first phone conversation she’d recorded with Evan Wingfield.

Joe frowned when the conversation ended. “He doesn’t really commit to anything here. I’m not telling you how to do your job, but why cut him off, just as he’s starting to come around?”

“I needed to make him fish or cut bait,” Vikki said. “And sure enough, he did come around, not more than five minutes later.” She looked down at the phone again, and her face froze.

“Oh no. Tell me this did not happen.” She slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand and groaned. “Nooooooo.”

Joe and Letty waited, exchanging worried glances.

The FBI agent’s face reddened with embarrassment. “Jesus, what a rookie move! Right when Wingfield was calling back I got a text from you, Joe, and then the maid was knocking on the door and trying to leave towels, so I chased her away and got up to lock the door … and I was in such a hurry to pick up, I must have forgotten to push the friggin’ record button when he called back. There’s no excuse for this. And the worst thing is, when Wingfield called back, he actually did commit. He negotiated the price, agreed to fifty thousand and promised to wire a ten-thousand-dollar deposit to my bank account this afternoon. He explicitly said he wanted Letty ‘disappeared’ and said he wanted photographic proof that she was dead.”

Letty shuddered.

Vikki stood up and paced around the room. “I screwed up. That phone call directly ties him to the murder-for-hire plot. Now we got no proof. Jesus, what a fuckup!”

“Maybe not,” Joe said. “How did you leave it with him?”

“He was adamant that the job had to get done this weekend. I told him my guy needed more time, but he pushed back hard on that.”

DeCurtis nodded. “Can you check your bank account? To see if the money has landed?”

“Yeah.” The FBI agent picked up her phone again, scrolled through the apps on the screen, then tapped one. She studied it, then nodded, her expression hopeful.

“It’s here. Ten thousand. Wired fifteen minutes ago.”

Joe held out his hand. “Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“I’m gonna call him and turn up the heat. And this time, I’ll record the conversation.”

“Screw you,” Vikki said, but she gave him the phone.

Wingfield answered after the first ring and Joe put the phone on speaker.

“You again? I don’t like all these calls. I thought we had a plan. You got the money, right? Just do your damn job now.”

“Hi, Evan. It’s not Vikki, it’s Vikki’s guy,” Joe said easily. “How ya doin’?”

“I’ve had better days. What’s your name, anyway?”

“You can call me Joe. So we don’t get our signals crossed, tell me exactly what it is you want me to do.”

“I told Vikki already,” Wingfield said. “Talk to her.”

“Screw that. I don’t know or care what you told her. She’s only the middleman. I need you to tell me exactly what you expect.”

Silence at the other end of the line.

Wingfield cleared his throat. “I don’t feel good talking about this on the phone. How do I know this isn’t just a giant rip-off? That you even know where they are?”

“Watch your phone, and then call me back here,” Joe said. He disconnected, then took his own phone from the pocket of his jeans. He scrolled through the photos, found a candid shot he’d taken recently of Letty and Maya, at sunset, sitting on the beach, and AirDropped it to Vikki Hill’s phone before texting it to Evan Wingfield.

The FBI agent’s phone rang a minute later and Joe picked up.

“Satisfied?”

“They’re at the beach? Where is this?”

“They were at the beach. Can we cut the bullshit now?”

“Yeah. Listen up, because this is the last time I’m talking to you. Or her. I want Letty gone. As in permanently. I don’t want her body turning up in a week or a month. And I want proof that she’s gone. Like I told Vikki, I’ve already seen the Law & Order episode where the bad guy snatches a bag lady off the street to phony up a hit. When it’s done, send me a photo. You’ll get the rest of your funds—after my daughter is returned to me.”

“What?” Joe said. “No way. That’s not what Vikki said. I’m not dealing with a kid.…”

This time, it was Wingfield’s turn to disconnect.

Joe turned to Vikki Hill. “What do you think? Is that good enough to get him arrested and charged with conspiracy to commit?”

“It was pretty good,” the agent admitted. “The photo of Letty and Maya was a nice touch. I need to touch base with the AUSA I’ve been working with. I’ll send her both the recordings and fill her in on where we’re at.” She glanced at her phone again.

“I’m going back to my place. I’ll grab a bite, then circle back to you. Hopefully no later than three. In the meantime, DeCurtis, maybe you can start thinking of places to ‘dispose of’ Letty’s body.”

When she was gone, Letty collapsed back into the sofa cushions. “How is this even real?” she asked. “When does it end? When do Maya and I get to have a normal life?”

Joe sat on the sofa beside her. “Soon. But I won’t lie, Letty. The hard stuff’s still ahead of you. Hopefully, you’ll be cleared of Tanya’s murder, and the NYPD will prove Wingfield did kill your sister. But if the feds make a case against Wingfield, you’ll be their star witness. It could be a long, dragged-out process.”

“And in the meantime, I just know Evan’s going to fight me to try and get custody of Maya. Especially now that he knows he stands to lose control of all that real estate he deeded over to Tanya.”

She slumped down even farther into the cushions. “I should have dumped that pot of hot coffee in his lap the first time he sat down at table two.”

38

Friday Afternoon/Early Evening

VIKKI HILL WALKED SLOWLY OVER to Letty’s unit, finishing off the last of her lunch, which had consisted of a prepackaged cellophane sandwich from the convenience store down the block and a bag of Cheetos. She pushed through the partially open door and found Joe DeCurtis, slumped over in an armchair near the front window, obviously dozing.

“Where’s Letty?”

Joe yawned. “She went back over to the office, to get some work done. Said she couldn’t stand sitting around here all afternoon, waiting on us to decide how her life’s gonna turn out. Can’t say I blame her.”

Obviously frustrated, Agent Hill ran a hand through her hair. “Okay, well, I don’t have good news. I played the recordings of Wingfield to Cheryl Shapiro, she’s the assistant US attorney I’ve been working with, and unfortunately, she says we need more.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Joe said. “We’ve got him on tape, saying he wants Letty disappeared, and doesn’t want her body showing up a month from now. That should be more than enough for an arrest, and an indictment.”

“It might be enough for a district attorney in a state court,” Vikki pointed out. “But I work for the federal government. Our standards are different. An arrest isn’t enough. An indictment isn’t enough. We need solid, incontrovertible evidence for a conviction.”

“Which means what?” he asked.

She shrugged. “We need Wingfield paying you off after he sees what he thinks are photos of Letty’s body. And we need him meeting you—in person, when you hand off his daughter to him in exchange for your payoff.”

“Letty will never go for that,” Joe said. “You heard her. She’s not going to let me take Maya back to New York.”