looked around the room, his eyes landing on the kids’ books and toys. Boldt wondered if he was thinking that had Darlene lived, such clutter might be on the floor of his own living room. “I want her to make the drop.”
“Absolutely not.”
“To show goodwill. To show him she means business, that he can trust her.”
“Hayes needs her and her security clearance in order to access these computers. That makes her a constant target of possible abduction. A drop like this… for all we know, it’s a trap being laid to kidnap her.”
Liz interjected, “Then why wouldn’t he have simply taken me when we met earlier? He had a terrific opportunity. No, it’s not the way David operates. He’s not going to kidnap anyone. If he can’t get me to do this for him, he’ll think of something else.”
“We do not want to lose contact with him,” Foreman pressed. “Liz is that contact.”
“So we’ll give him what he wants,” Boldt said.
Liz asked, “Will someone please tell me what we’re all agreeing to?”
“Give us a chance to set it up,” Boldt told Foreman, who looked as surprised as Liz that he had acquiesced. Boldt told them exactly what he had in mind.
FIVE
“THE WOMEN’S REST ROOM DOWN the hall will have a yellow sign out front saying it’s being cleaned,” Danny Foreman told Liz over the phone in a calm, melodious voice. “Go in there now.”
She walked out her office door and down the hall, telling her assistant that she’d be right back. She doubted that. The wall clock read 3:40. She was scheduled to pick up the five thousand in cash at 4:00. This was it. A day of clock-watching over, actually
Stepping inside, she was met by a woman she recognized. This woman locked the door behind her and whispered “Clear” into the echoing tile room.
It took Liz a moment to identify Detective Bobbie Gaynes because of the dark blue coveralls. Gaynes was the first woman to ever make Homicide. She wore her dark hair cut short, and the cleaning-company coveralls fit her loosely.
Gaynes spoke softly. “Your every movement will be tracked by Special Ops, Mrs. B.” Everyone on the Crimes Against Persons unit called her this. “Just as the Lieu probably told you, I need you to follow my instructions closely and do exactly as I say. Me and the girls urge you to ask questions whenever you’re unclear. We’ll repeat or explain ourselves as necessary, though time is of the essence. Okay? We want to get this right the first time. Okay?” She waited hardly a second. “Good.”
Liz found it hard to breathe.
Lou had explained the operation to her, but it had seemed at the time that little would be expected of her. Now, even that little bit felt like too much.
Gaynes continued, “This here is Gina.” The woman stood about five feet, and had to be a size two. She had Italian coloring, a sweet smile, and a firm handshake. “If you ever seen
A woman with dark hair, average height, stood next to Gina, her blouse unbuttoned and hanging open. She looked familiar, though Liz felt certain they’d never met. No introduction was made. This woman remained firmly fixed on Gina.
“Your bra size, Mrs. B.?” Gina asked, the familiarity of her addressing Liz this way unsettling, as if she, too, were a part of CAP.
“Thirty-two A,” Liz answered, embarrassed by what two nursing children, chemotherapy, and drastic weight loss had done to her breasts.
The other woman peeled her blouse off and removed her bra, leaving her naked from the waist up. Gina positioned Liz to face the mirror while she worked on this other woman’s face. Gaynes and Gina wrapped the stand-in’s chest to flatten her high breasts.
Gina explained, “Believe it or not, and I’m sure you will, it’s the first thing a guy’ll notice-the chest.”
“What the…?”
Gaynes interrupted, “Gina’s done all our S.O. work for the past couple years. Best in the business.” Special Ops was a prestigious though dangerous posting.
The woman who had not yet been introduced by name redressed herself. Only then did Liz realize this person wore the
“Is this what I think it is?” Liz asked.
Gina asked Liz for the brand and color of the lipstick she wore. The cosmetologist then directed Gaynes to one of the tackle boxes, all the while using small pieces of foam rubber dabbed and coated in various bases and blushes to build the coloring onto the woman’s cheeks and brow. She worked incredibly fast, her hands nearly a blur.
Gaynes reported, “Two minutes.”
Gina explained, “We don’t want you to spend more than five minutes in here, because after that it can raise eyebrows. Speaking of which… ” She grabbed up an electric razor and zipped it along the other woman’s brow, then turned to a pair of tweezers.
“Officer Malone here is going to take your place,” Gaynes said. “It’s a bit of a tricky deal, so you’re going to want to play this heads-up. If we blow it, either something happens to you or to Officer Malone here-not that she doesn’t know the score. It’s just that we want to give this the best shot.” Gaynes unzipped the coveralls and handled a police radio apparently clipped to her belt. “One minute,” she announced. The thing spit back at her. A man’s voice, but not Lou’s.
Malone looked at Liz for the first time and Liz gasped aloud at this woman’s similarity.
“Pretty fucking good, huh?” Gaynes said, slipping into her more familiar self.
Backing up, she gained just enough distance to where she could see the woman clearly; the hastily applied makeup blended perfectly into the surface of this woman’s skin, shallowing her cheeks, stretching her chin, transforming her looks. Gina put finishing touches to the hair-clearly a wig that had been chosen ahead of time.
Gaynes said, “Malone’s with Washington State Bureau of Criminal Investigation, on loan… it’s a shared operation, Mrs. B.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Malone said, stretching out her hand.
Liz Boldt’s hand shook of its own accord as she stepped forward and greeted the nearly perfect reflection of herself. Malone’s hand was hot; Liz’s was bone cold.
“Okay,” Gaynes said, “party’s over, girls. Time’s up.”
Gaynes quickly briefed Liz on how to execute the substitution as Malone zipped herself back into a pair of housecleaning coveralls and Gina placed a dark scarf over the stand-in’s head.
“The good thing,” Gina said calmly as she pulled the scarf forward to hide as much of the face as possible, “is that no one pays any attention at all to the help. We’re invisible. It’s straight to the elevators for us.”
For Liz, who was to return to her office for exactly five minutes, their behavior took on the feel of choreography, and she envied them their cool. Her role was to be fleeting, with Malone carrying the brunt of the load, and yet she still felt light-headed with anticipation.
Back in her office, she shut the door and paced, watching the time and wondering how it could slow so drastically. Only childbirth produced a slower clock than this. The phone rang, but she let her assistant pick up. When Lou was announced, Liz snatched it up.
“Thank goodness,” she said.
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
“Can you go through with this?”
“Yes.”
“Gaynes briefed you.”
