David Baldacci - Daylight

“Okay, okay,” snapped Weathers. “But it’s also impossible to get off the shit once you’re on it. I’ve been in rehab four times now. If the Army could find any more bodies to wash dishes and empty the trash, I’d be long gone by now.”

“Did Tony supply you as well?”

Weathers gave her a look. “Why? Are you really a cop feeding me a load of bullshit and you’re looking to bust him? And me?”

She stared pointedly at Weathers and tapped her flat belly. “This is why I want to talk to Tony.”

Weathers sucked in a breath. “You’re—?”

“Not showing yet, but it won’t be long.”

“And he’s the father?”

“Oh yeah.”

“I don’t know where Tony is. I really don’t.”

“Okay, but you’ve seen him?”

“Yeah. At work.”

“He hasn’t been to work in a while.”

“I know.”

“So have you seen him other than at work?”

“Maybe.”

“Either you have or you haven’t,” said Pine. “And anything you can tell us will be more than what we know now.”

“Okay, he came to my place a few days ago. Said he got rousted from his house by the cops looking for him, and he needed to lie low for a bit.”

“You mean his dad’s old place?” said Pine.

“Yeah, I guess. How’d you know about that?”

“I’ve been looking for him. He told me about the place. I went there. It was empty. How long did he stay with you?”

“Just the night.” She glanced at Pine and added hastily, “We didn’t do anything. He slept on the couch.”

Pine waved this comment off. “I’m not looking to marry the guy, Sheila. I just thought he’d like to know he’s going to be a daddy. Did he say where he was going to go after he left your place?”

“No, but afterwards he texted me and said his father had died in prison. I think that really spooked him.”

“Did he say why the cops were after him?”

“No, and I didn’t ask. I know better.”

“And he said nothing that would lead you to know where he was going?”

“Not really.” She paused and looked around the room, as though checking for eavesdroppers. “But if he can’t go back to his house and he hasn’t come back here, there aren’t many places left.”

“But do you know of any?” asked Pine.

Axilrod looked around as the door opened and some folks walked in with drinks and cigarettes in hand. She said, “Look, I don’t think we want to talk about this here.”

Pine said, “Okay, we can go somewhere else. Drinks on me.”

“You can’t drink if you’re pregnant,” Weathers pointed out.

“Don’t I know it. I meant I’d spring for drinks for you.”

Axilrod said, “There’s a place in Chinatown, Lucky Thirteen.”

“Let’s go,” said Pine. “We can cab over together.”

Axilrod said, “I’m not sure we should leave together. If something weird is going on here . . . ” She looked worriedly at Weathers.

Weathers said, “I know where Lucky Thirteen is. I can meet you there.”

Pine didn’t look pleased. “Okay. But Sheila, if you don’t show, I’m going to be pissed.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be there. I swear.”

Pine and Axilrod headed out past the two guys at the front door, who barely acknowledged their departure.

Pine said, “If she doesn’t show, do you know where she lives?”

“No, but it’s in the files at Fort Dix. I can access it.”

“Good.”

Before getting on the elevator Axilrod ordered an Uber.

A dark SUV pulled up front as soon as they hit the street.

“That’s it,” said Axilrod, glancing at her phone.

Pine got in first.

And that was the last thing she remembered before waking up in a dark place with a dead body next to her.

CHAPTER

28

PINE ROLLED TO HER RIGHT and slowly came to. The next moment she was violently sick to her stomach and retched on the floor.

“Shit.”

She sat up, rubbing her head and her belly. And froze.

Sheila Weathers was lying next to her. And unlike Pine, the lady would not be getting back up. The deep, wide gash right under her chin went from ear to ear. Pine looked around for her purse, but it wasn’t there. She had no phone, no light. She had no idea where she was. Or how long she’d been unconscious.

There was blood everywhere, the floor, the body. She’d been killed here, and the arterial spray had coated the floor and the walls, and the corpse.

The woman was wearing the same clothes as earlier. Pine touched Weathers’s hand. It was cold, but not ice cold. She moved her arm. No rigor. The woman’s death hadn’t happened all that long ago.

This made Pine think of something. She examined every inch of herself she could. Someone had taken her shoes and her bomber jacket, leaving her in just her jeans and shirt. There was blood on her shirt, her jeans, and her arms. She ran a hand across her face and felt the coagulated blood there. She touched her hair and felt it matted down with blood, too.

They must have killed her while I was lying here. She died right here, and her blood sprayed all over me while I was unconscious.

Her stomach lurched again, and she took deep breaths to keep the bile in her gut and her nerves from running away from her.

Okay, this was a crime scene, and she had to treat it as such.

And I’m part of that crime scene.

That was when she saw it. The knife. It was within a foot of her leg. She drew closer to it. She looked at the bloody handle and then at her bloody hand. She drew even closer, trying to see if . . . Shit, what if they had placed her hand around the knife while she was unconscious?

Then my prints will be on the murder weapon.

She scooted away from the body, sat on her rear, and took a long look around, trying to find some way out.

The walls were wood, and so was the floor. There were no windows that she could see. Pine continued to run her gaze around the walls until she came to a single door. It was made of wood and looked stout.

She got up and padded over to it in her bare feet.

She tried the door. It was locked.

Of course it’s locked.

Then it occurred to her. Where the hell was Lindsey Axilrod? She’d gotten into the Uber with her.

Or had she?

Pine tried to recall every moment, but it was a complete muddle. Whatever they had used on her must have had an amnesiac component because her memory was blank.

So had they killed Axilrod, too? Was her body in one of the darkened corners of this room? Had her throat been slashed? Was Pine covered in her blood, too?

But then her thoughts recalibrated as she considered the matter more closely. She recalled that Axilrod had ordered the Uber and then identified the vehicle as being their Uber, which was the only reason Pine had gotten into the vehicle. Well, it had not been their Uber. It had not been an Uber at all, which left one obvious conclusion.

She set me up and I fell right for it.

Axilrod must be in on whatever was going on. Pine had gone to her, thinking she was simply a potential witness or lead to get to Vincenzo. And she played that role well, trying to convince Pine that nothing nefarious was going on. Then, she probably became afraid that if she didn’t play along Pine would make good on her threat to send a search team to the apartment. She had no doubt arranged for there to be a “party” after she had met with Pine. Otherwise, it would have been a coincidence indeed that on the same day she had met Axilrod such an event would be scheduled. And when Weathers had started to talk, it had been Axilrod who suggested leaving the place. And to have Weathers leave separately.

Pine groaned at her gullibility. But she had been so fixated on finding out information, and, to her credit, Axilrod had played her role to perfection. She was clearly experienced in the art of deception.