As much as I’d like to wring her neck, I don’t want to scare her away. I need to find out where she is and trap her like an animal by luring her out of her hiding place with bait. Sadly, my office line isn’t equipped with a tracking device.
I’m careful to keep my voice even. “What can I do for you?”
She sounds nervous. “I want to make a deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
“One million.” She hurries to add, “In cash.”
I chuckle. “That’s a hefty amount. What are you hoping on selling?”
“My silence.”
Just as I expected. Very predictable.
Playing along, I ask, “For what?”
“The woman on the news, the one they say was involved in the bank explosion, she’s not the one. She’s not your wife.”
My fingers tighten around the phone in an involuntary reaction as I imagine how I’m going to squeeze her neck until I crush her windpipe.
My cool tone gives nothing away of what’s going on inside me. “Then go to the police.”
I’m bluffing, playing her. Without having met the woman once, I can read her. It’s not difficult to put myself in her shoes or to get into her head.
Silence stretches, confirming the seed of doubt I’ve planted has taken root. The police will cut her a deal and maybe even throw in a witness protection program, but she may not know that.
Right now, she’s thinking it will be her word against mine, and that they won’t believe her. Even if they do, she knows my power reaches high places in the force as well as the judicial system.
She also knows if her involvement comes to light and the feds lock her up, a single word from me will get her throat slit on the inside.
And above all, she knows if she talks to the cops, the people who orchestrated Tatiana’s kidnapping will come after her.
They’re already hunting her.
So am I.
She’s in a nasty pickle.
That’s what’s running through her mind as the seconds tick on.
When she finally speaks, she takes the bait as I knew she would.
“Fine,” she bites out. “I can give you information.”
“On what?”
“On who took your wife.”
My fury reaches a crescendo. It takes all I have and then some to keep calm and not tear into her.
She doesn’t know I know her identity. If the strippers from the club had told her that I’d been sniffing around, asking questions about her, she wouldn’t have bothered to hide her name. It would’ve been pointless. She would’ve simply announced it when I took the call.
Still, I test my theory. “Who are you?”
“That doesn’t matter. Are you interested or not?”
I was right. She has no idea that I’ve identified her.
