I tried to speak and couldn’t. Trey had taken a massive blow, but was still trying, so hard, to do right by truth and justice. He believed in those things. And in me.
“You okay, sis?”
I wiped a tear from my eye. “Yeah.”
“I know it sounds rough, but he can do this. He’ll have to rely on his judgment now.”
“But he doesn’t have any! That’s why he won’t wear his gun, because he doesn’t have the judgment to—”
“But that is judgment, don’t you see? He trusts his own instincts. That is huge progress, Tai, huge.”
It was. I knew it was. But all this progress was coming at a damned inconvenient time. I tilted my head back and stared at the shifting cloud-hazed sky.
“I’d better get back inside,” I said. “Thanks for talking to me.”
“Don’t mention it. Just…can you get him back in my office when you’re done with whatever it is you’re doing? I’m dying to arrange some further testing.”
I assured him I would try and hung up. Then I squared my shoulders. We had a mission. And we were going to finish it come hell or high water. I eased myself into Trey’s room and lay down next to him on the narrow cot. He shifted to accommodate me, not waking, and I stretched out against his back, my face pressed into the nape of his neck. He was in the valley of deep sleep, his breathing steady and regular.
I closed my eyes and tried to join him there.
Chapter Forty-nine
I woke to an empty bed. This was no surprise, but it took me a second to get my bearings in the dusky gray light. Trey had left me a note—checking the perimeter, it said, back at eight. I pulled on my shoes, ran my fingers through my hair. I needed a bath, clean clothes, a toothbrush. I tried to lick my lips and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. Definitely a toothbrush.
Jonathon still sat at the video monitors. He looked up when he heard me. “Good morning, ma’am. Would you like some more coffee?”
“That would be a lifesaver. Thank you.”
I poured myself a giant cup, letting the first hot swallow burn my mouth. Jonathon looked as on point and professional as when I’d last seen him, his posture military straight, dark eyes clear and observant.
“Had any visitors?” I said.
“No, ma’am. Once the detectives left, it’s been quiet.”
“The main resort too?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The grounds looked calm on the monitors. The gardeners raked straw in the front flower beds, and a pair of runners loped along the nature trail. Otherwise few guests stirred, none at our end of the resort. Rolling mists and a low gray sky warned of rains to come.
“If Mr. Seaver gets back before I do, tell him I went to get a shower.”
Jonathon nodded, his eyes glued once again to the monitors. “Yes, ma’am. Will do, ma’am.”
I closed the door behind myself, feeling the first wet drops against my forehead. The walk was short, a hop and skip from the check-in station, and I’d pulled out my phone to punch in the security code when I heard a leafy rustle. A quick scan of the shrubbery revealed a figure hunched beneath a crepe myrtle.
I peered closer. “Oliver?”
Oliver held both hands in front of him. “Please don’t scream! I won’t hurt you! You gotta help me!”
He was still in his natty suit, but it was torn and dirty, his face a welter of scratches and mosquito bites. His voice was graveled, quavery, barely above a whisper.
I stepped closer. “What in the hell are you doing?”
“We need to talk.”
“So talk.”
“Not here. Inside.”
I looked up at the security camera in the corner. Approximately twenty seconds had passed since I’d stopped. Either Jonathon or Trey could already be on the way. Or not. Depending. I didn’t have my app turned on, so my phone wasn’t recording the audio, which meant that Trey couldn’t hear our conversation. But his personal video feed was functioning, and if he looked at his phone and saw Oliver on camera, if he thought I was being threatened…
I made my voice stern but calm. “I want you to listen to me very carefully, Oliver. You know who Trey is, so you know his background. You know he can blow your medulla oblongata out the back of your skull from half a mile away. You won’t even draw a last breath, you’ll just drop like a puppet with the strings cut.”
Oliver was breathing heavy, his hair matted on his forehead. “I know.”
“So tell me the truth, for your own good. You don’t have a weapon, do you?”
He choked on a sob. “No.”
I punched in the security code, and the light blinked clear, simultaneously dismantling the alarms and turning on the interior audio and video systems. I also turned on the recording app. If Trey had his earpiece in, he would hear everything Oliver and I were saying.
I held the door open. “Get in.”
Oliver scurried inside, eyes skittering all around. As he passed me, he left an odoriferous wake of stale sweat and old cigarettes. He made straight for the armchair in the corner and sank into it, pulled a pack of menthols from his pocket.
“Where have you been?” I said.
“In the woods. Hiding.” He lit up with trembling hands, the cigarette shaking as he held it to his mouth. “I want immunity. I want to go into Witness Protection.”
“Why?”
“I’m not talking until I get into the program. Trey has the connections to make it happen, I know he does.”
I didn’t tell him he was wrong, that Trey didn’t have the power to get anybody into anything. He did have connections, though, and if what Oliver had to say was important enough, he could work them. Regardless, I needed to keep Oliver talking, which he only seemed inclined
