“No more stalling,” she said
“Okay,” he laughed, “He’s being held on counter-terrorism charges somewhere upstate. The only person allowed to see him is his lawyer.”
“Anti-terrorism?” That didn’t make sense. How were they getting that to hold up?
“Can you feel this?” Tyler said leaning forward his elbows on the table. He’d interrupted a slight pause she was only noticing had been there. She looked at him, for an instant thinking he was talking about some chemistry between them, something physical, but understanding before she gave her thoughts away what he was really alluding to.
“Yes,” she said almost as a sigh; surrendering to him.
“When we work together, things get done,” he said.
“Things happen,” she corrected him, “and not always for the best.” Her career could have been in ruins after their last collaboration, but then...
“I can help you solve these cases,” Tyler went on, “We can get them out of the way and get focused on the real case.” She knew he was getting a lot out of their collaboration too, but still Sarah’s mind was filled with the desire to get Spalding. Tyler may be using her to get what he wanted professionally, but she couldn’t hold that against him knowing she was using him for personal revenge. Swings and roundabouts. “Do you still have that phone I gave you?” he asked.
“Yes, but it’s in my apartment dead somewhere.”
“Charge it when you get home tonight, I’ll text you in the morning.”
“Text me what?” she asked, alert to some possible news.
“A test,” he said, “Unless something happens overnight you need to know about.” He was good, Sarah thought, she had to admit that. She shook her head; she wasn’t going to let him win this easily.
“No,” she said, “It’s too much of a risk.” She didn’t know if he could hear the fact that she’d already caved in her voice or if he was just that confident, but all Tyler did in response to this was smile and say,
“Well then I guess we’ll be racing one another for the break in the story. May the best win.” He tipped his bottle to her and drank.
Chapter 9
CARSON LEMOND HAD READ the story in the newspapers about the manhunt and never in his life had he been so afraid or so desperate. They had him pegged for three murders now and as far as the stories went there was no doubt of his guilt and he would face the electric chair if caught. It had been made clear in his own mind that fleeing was the only option left to him. He was in a motel just outside Washington D.C under the name of James Deever. The owner of the place hadn’t asked for any information from him or even so much as glanced up from the book he was reading long enough to see Carson’s face. He just wanted the cash up front and some kind of mark made on the registry.
As Carson lay on the hard bed thinking on how he might escape all of this a new idea came to mind. At first, he dismissed it as crazy, but when it wouldn’t go away, he thought deeper on it. After a time he actually began to think it was a way out and this window of hope made him see that at the very least it was worth a shot.
It was raining when he got off the bus by the mall. He’d been in the food court earlier today and knew there was a store that sold sim only phones. He paid a teenager to go into the store and buy a phone for him so that if the phone was traced to where it was bought he at least wouldn’t be on the CCTV camera’s buying it. The teenager did what was asked of him and was rewarded with twenty dollars as promised.
Carson went back outside into the grim weather. Few people were walking the streets and it was unlikely anyone would overhear his conversation out here. He called a number from his address book, a battered black leather covered pad he’d had with him for years. He wasn’t sure of the number as he’d gotten it second hand but it was worth a try.
The ring tone went on for a long time, much longer than one normally would before cutting to a voicemail or answering machine. Carson stayed on the line; he had nowhere else to be. Then the click came and someone was on the other end.
They didn’t say anything.
“I’m looking to make a deal,” Carson said, thinking about all the information that might have flowed through this number in the past.
“Wrong number,” a gruff voice answered and Carson panicked as he felt they were about to hang up.
“This is Carson Lemond!” he blurted. There was silence from the other end but they were still there.
“Speak,” the man said after a long pause.
“I didn’t kill Jeff,” Carson said, “Or the other two. I beat Jeff to get money he owed to your people!”
“Where is that money?” the man asked; this wasn’t what Carson had expected.
“I have it,” he answered and not wanting to get side-tracked he went on. “I’m happy to get it back to you and I’m happy to work for you guys for nothing if only you'll keep me hidden from the cops?” This had been the idea that had come to him in the motel.
The Castino Family wanted his blood now, but they were pragmatic people. They could make him work off the debt of the troubles he’d caused them for ever and that would be much more valuable to them than just killing him. They’d also get to collect on Jeff Suchet’s debt at the same time; it was a no brainer from their point of view. They would want to protect their latest asset and that would keep him safe from the police and the electric chair that awaited
