Playing Dead_ A Novel of Suspense - Allison Brennan [25]
“I can ask, but don’t count on it,” Claire sidestepped.
“But you’re game?”
“I don’t think I can.” Mitch was picking her up at eight. She hadn’t introduced him to her “family.” That would necessitate her explaining to Mitch about her father being a killer—and a fugitive. Not to mention that Dave and Phil Palmer, his longtime partner, always gave her boyfriends a hard time. Mitch could probably hold his own, but they’d jab at him about being a freelance writer with no visible means of support, and no real job.
“Okay, ’fess up. What are you doing?”
“I have a date.”
“Bring him by. Someone we know?”
“No.”
“New guy?”
“Sort of.” She’d been seeing Mitch for a few months.
“Well? Doesn’t he like basketball?”
“He likes to play, not watch.”
“You’re dating an athlete now?”
“No, though I’d bet he can beat you at racquetball.”
“Bullshit. Your boyfriends are all wimps.”
“That’s not true.”
“You should date someone who’s your equal, Claire, not someone you can mentally and physically run circles around.”
“Yeah, yeah, tell me something new.”
“So you’re not going to bring him?”
“Not yet. I haven’t told him—well, I just like things the way they are, okay?”
Dave softened. “Claire, if you want to talk about your dad—”
“No,” she said quickly. Too quickly? She cleared her throat. Oliver Maddox had also talked to Bill, but Claire hadn’t wanted to listen to what they’d discussed. But now she needed information . . . Would they realize something was up if she started asking questions? She’d have to tread carefully. Dave, Phil, and Manny were all smart cops. She needed to get Dave’s dad Bill alone. Bill had a soft spot for her. She didn’t feel good about exploiting him, but right now she needed all the information she could get.
“How about if I come by for the first half?”
He snorted. “Your date won’t mind?”
“No need to be snide, David.”
“Ouch. You must be pissed to call me David.”
“Later. I have an arsonist to interview.”
“The West Sac warehouse fire?”
“Yep.”
“Be careful.”
“Always.”
She hung up and pulled off the freeway, then turned into an upscale development in Roseville, a sprawling suburban city with over one hundred thousand residents, halfway between Sacramento and the quaint Gold Country town of Auburn.
Before walking up to pound the final nail in Ben Holman’s proverbial coffin, she dialed Mitch’s cell phone number. Though she didn’t have time to talk, she hoped he’d answer. She loved his voice. No matter what mood she was in, talking to Mitch always made her feel good.
Voice mail picked up.
“This is Mitch Bianchi. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”
He sounded far more formal on tape than in person. She said, “Hi, Mitch. It’s Claire. Slight change of plans. I need to make a stop tonight and it’ll take me awhile. I’ll meet you at the Fox & Goose about nine. Sorry. Call me if there’s a problem or . . .” if you just want to talk. That would sound stupid. “Or whatever,” she finished lamely. “ ’Bye.”
She pulled together her file and clipboard, checked her weapon, and walked up to interview Holman.
SEVEN
The assassin was anxious and excited. He’d be seeing Claire tonight. In the flesh.
When he came off duty he rushed home to shower and change. He didn’t want to be too early, so he tried to calm himself. He poured a glass of wine and sat on the edge of his bed, a towel around his waist. He turned on the television via remote.
The TV in his bedroom wasn’t connected to cable or an antenna; instead, it was hooked up only to his DVD player where he had one special disk. A compilation of the secret tapes he’d made of Claire. A “Best of Claire” movie.
He savored every moment. Every movement Claire made was burned into his mind; her every sigh, every word vibrated between his ears. It didn’t matter what she was doing as she lay in her bed. As long as he could see her, he was happy.
He’d had to be careful, play it cool, make sure that if the camera was found, it couldn’t be traced back to him.
When she’d been living in the apartment downtown, it had been much easier to tape her.