“Does she know who the new contact was?Or why Fort McMurray?”Drea asked, leaning over her keyboard to put the location into Google maps.Wow, that really was a long way north.Six hundred miles straight up from the Montana and Alberta border.
“My guess is because Fort McMurray is at the heart of the Athabasca oil sands.Every major energy company worth a lick of salt is up there,” Gilliam explained.“Sylvie didn’t know who he was meeting.”
She made a note to research which companies operated there, then put a line straight through it.Leave it to Detective Carter.“Do you think his trip was connected to the note?It did say Mike was headed north.”
“Possibly, but it would be pure speculation on my part.Sylvie has agreed to let me take a look through Mike’s things once she gets them back from the police.There may be something he was carrying with him that can help piece this together.Did you go to the police as I suggested?”
“Yes.”She tapped the pen on the corner of the desk, pondering the decision to trust Gilliam.
“It’s clear the files you have point to the illegal behavior of senior elected officials but don’t categorically prove anything.And a letter in those files names three people—Walter, Mike, and ‘L.A’.Mike is dead.The woman carrying the files is missing—”
“I can’t help but think L.A.is the woman from the coffee shop.”Drea wrote the letters L and A on a blank page.“What do you think we should do, Gilliam?”
“You need to be careful.You asked about Mike?He was writing an exposé on corruption in the permitting processes across the U.S.He’d called me to ask if I could look at a soil sample he had brought back from Florida.I have told the police this already, but he told me he thought he was being followed.”
The idea that MacArthur was killed still shocked her.Reminded her that this had serious consequences.“Did he say who was following him?”What if the person following him was one of the two men who chased the woman?
“He didn’t know.But he told me the man looked like Rondo Hatton.”
“Who?”she asked curiously.
“Oh, a famous character actor from the thirties and forties.Had an unusual medical condition, acromegaly, a disfiguring disease.”
Drea typed the name into her search engine.Black and white photos appeared of a man with an exceptionally large forehead and swollen nose.Large puffy eyes were capped with thick, dark eyebrows.It was a startling portrait.
There was a long pause.Drea tapped the pen some more before throwing it onto the desk.“You think I’ll be safe, Gilliam?”
A longer pause.“I honestly don’t know.”
Drea ended the call.She felt unsafe in her own home.She thought back to Cujo’s words after the night with Snake.He said he’d help her with security if she needed it.
She dialed Cujo’s number.
“Hey,” he answered.His voice, all rough with sleep, vibrated through her.
“Cujo, it’s Drea.Did I wake you?”
“S’all good, Shortcake.If you hadn’t, my snooze button would have in another three minutes.What’s up?”The sound of bedding rustling spurred images of him in bed, naked perhaps… with a strategically placed white cotton sheet across his thighs.No, ditch the sheet… he could just be lying there on his back with—
“You still there, Shortcake?”
Goddamn daydreaming made her hot under the collar.“Yes.Sorry.I wondered if I could take you up on your offer.”
“And which offer was that?”he asked salaciously.
He’d turned her down.Had the opportunity to do more than kiss her but he’d turned his back on her and walked away.“You can’t say things like that to me, Cujo,” she grumbled.
There was a pause, and this time it was her turn to wonder if he was still on the other end of the line.
“Sorry, Drea… it’s just… it’s so easy to forget around you.Seriously, what do you need?”
“New locks for the doors, deadbolts or whatever.I don’t know what to buy, and I definitely don’t know how to install them.”
“What time do you need to be at work?”
Drea looked at the clock.“An hour, but I need to leave in twenty-five minutes to get the bus.”
“Sit tight.I’ll come see what you need, then run you to work.We’ll figure out when I can fit them, then.Okay?”
