He’d woken up three or four times during the night to piss, and each time Gretchen had been lying next to him, motionless and breathing deep and heavy.
But now she wasn’t.
Then he heard noises from the kitchen and remembered that she wanted to get up early and make him pancakes for breakfast.
He rolled onto his back and put his hands under his head.
Dawn had broken, but not by much.
Gretchen sang.
Too low and off-key for him to figure out the song.
“What are you singing?” he shouted.
She walked in wearing only a T-shirt, straddled him and pinned his arms above his head.
She kissed him.
“Are you hungry?”
“Yeah. What were you singing?”
“La Isle Bonita.”
“Never heard of it. Sing it to me.”
She pinned his arms tighter. “No. I’m too embarrassed.”
“I’m not going to let you go until you do,” he said.
She moved her weight higher on his chest.
“Not let me go? I’m the one who has you, in case you haven’t noticed.”
He flipped her, then straddled her and pinned her arms over her head.
“Now who has who?”
“That’s not the question,” she said.
“Oh?”
“The question is who’s going to turn the pancakes over before they burn.”
“Tricky,” he said. “Very tricky.”
He brought her hands together, clamped them in his left hand, and then reached down with his right and tickled her armpits until she went nuts and begged for mercy. Then he released her and headed for the shower.
Shit!
He suddenly remembered Mia Avila, outside in the Granada, under a blanket on the floor of the back seat, drugged and chained to the seat brackets. He couldn’t leave her at the cabin last night, not with the client coming in to do Chase.
He threw on a pair of jeans and stepped out to check on her.
There she was.
Exactly as he’d left her last night.
“Good girl,” he said, and then headed back inside for a shower.
Gretchen slapped his ass as he walked by. “I’m the dessert,” she said. “In case you’re interested.”
“Oh, I’m interested all right.”
He got the water as hot as he could and then stepped inside and lathered up. Today would be busy. He’d have to clean the cabin and dispose of the stripper’s body after the client left, for starters. He also needed to kill Mia Avila sometime today and get rid of her remains.
When he got out of the shower, the farmhouse smelled like pan-cakes-buttery, delicious pancakes. He dressed in the bedroom and shouted into the kitchen, “God, that smells good. I’m starved.”
No response.
“Gretchen? You there?”
Nothing.
Weird.
He walked into the kitchen.
She wasn’t there.
“Gretchen?”
Silence.
He stepped out the front door and couldn’t believe his eyes. Gretchen stood next to the Granada, with the door open, looking into the back seat.
At Mia Avila.
She turned and stared as he walked toward her.
Then she ran.
52
DAY NINE-SEPTEMBER 13
TUESDAY MORNING
Teffinger met with Sydney late Tuesday morning. She had run down all the phone calls that Brad Ripley made on March 15th. In fact, she had personally called every number and talked to the person Ripley had talked to. She asked them what they talked about and took careful notes.
Everything was legit and unremarkable.
Only one call remained unexplained.
It came to Ripley’s cell from a payphone on the south side of Denver and lasted four minutes. There was no way to track it. Even if it turned out to be within view of a security camera, the tape would have long been recycled at this point.
“Drive out there and check it anyway,” Teffinger said. “You never know.”
She frowned.
“That seems thin,” she said.
Teffinger cocked his head and asked, “When did that call come in?”
She checked her notes.
“12:49.”
“Ripley used two different colored pens in his day planner that day,” he said. “Some of the stuff happened in the morning. That was in black ink. More stuff happened in the afternoon, also in black ink. The red ink comes in the middle of the day, the same time of day as the call from the payphone. So run that call to ground, and then to underground if you have to. Whoever’s on the other end of the line is our connection.”
She said, “I’ll check his credit card statement from that day too, to see if he went to lunch anywhere and happened to end up paying, just in case the communication was in person.”
“Good idea,” he said. “You’re welcome.”
“Welcome for what?”
“For giving you so much job security.”
She grunted. “As if I need any more of that.”
Ten minutes later, his phone rang. He recognized the caller’s name-Tammy-but didn’t remember from where. Then she reminded him and he pulled up a mental picture of Brad Ripley’s blond receptionist.
“Remember when you deputized me and asked where we could find a dark secret, if Mr. Ripley had one?”
Yes he did.
She hadn’t had any brilliant ideas at the time.
“Well,” she said, “I’ve been snooping around in his office and found a wall safe.”
Teffinger stood up and almost fell over the snake plant.
“Go on,” he said.
“I also found the combination,” she said.
“How?” he asked.
