The Millionaires - Brad Meltzer [145]
“You too—but only if you call me Joey.”
Truman forced a polite laugh, offered a fast handshake, and just as quickly scurried back to his office.
As the door shut behind him, Joey took a second glance at the receptionist, who didn’t look up… even though it was her job.
Joey went straight for the shiny black desk. “Can I ask you a quick question?” From her purse, she pulled out two photos—one of Charlie and Oliver, and the other of Gillian and Duckworth. She slid them onto the desk, then placed her dad’s badge next to them.
Lowering the magazine to her lap, the receptionist stared down at the photos and silently studied. “They’re not rapists, are they?” she eventually asked.
“No, they’re not rapists,” Joey said in her most comforting voice. “We just want to ask them a few questions.”
“You know they have different color hair, right?” she asked, still staring at the photos.
“We know,” Joey offered. “We’re trying to figure out where they went from here.”
“You mean after the library?”
“Exactly—after the library,” Joey replied, nodding like she knew it was coming. “Which reminds me—what library was that again…?”
* * * *
Hearing the familiar beep as he pulled back onto the Florida Turnpike, he flipped his cell phone open and saw the words New Message on the digital screen. Assuming it was Gallo or DeSanctis, he calmly dialed the number for his voicemail.
“You have one new message,” the computerized voice said. “To listen to your message—”
He pushed a button on the phone’s keypad and waited for the message to play.
“Where are you? Why aren’t you picking up?” a female voice asked. The man grinned as soon as he heard Gillian. “I just spoke with Gallo,” she explained. “He was happy to hear about Disney, but he’s definitely getting suspicious. I’m telling you, the man’s no moron—it doesn’t take two blenders to the head to know what’s going on. Whatever you told him at the start, he sees the chessboard moving. Anyway, I know you wanted to throw him and DeSanctis a bone, but from where I’m standing, it’s two against one. So if you really plan on pulling this off, it’s time to get your ass up here and help me out. Okay? Okay.”
As the message faded, he hit Delete, slapped the phone shut, and put his foot on the gas. He was trying to stay away as long as he could, but like he always said back at the bank, some things required a personal touch.
* * * *
“Whattya want?” Gallo asked as he picked up his cell phone.
“Agent Gallo, this is Officer Jim Evans with the Florida Highway Patrol—we just got a hit on that blue Volkswagen you were looking for. Apparently, it’s registered to a Martin Duckworth—”
“I told you it was registered to Duckworth.”
There was a pause on the other line. “You want the info or not, sir?” Evans challenged.
This time, Gallo was the one who stayed silent. “Tell me what you got,” he finally said as he and DeSanctis raced up the Turnpike. He could hear Evans’s quiet gloating on the other line.
“We put the name in SunPass, just to take a look,” Evans began. “Apparently, about forty minutes ago, a pass registered to a Martin Duckworth went through at Cypress Creek.”
“Which direction?”
“Headed north,” the officer said. “If you want, I can send a few cars out—”
“Don’t touch ’em!” Gallo shouted. “Understand? They’re CIs—confidential informants—”
“I know what a CI is.”
“Then you know I want ’em left alone!”
“Do what you want,” Evans blasted. “Just remember you’re the ones who contacted us.” With a click, the line went dead.
Next to Gallo, DeSanctis shook his head. “I still don’t think you should’ve called that one in.”
“It was worth it.”
“Why? Just to confirm she was going north?”
“No, to confirm she wasn’t going south.”
Nodding to himself, DeSanctis rubbed the back of his head, where a thin white bandage covered the still throbbing cut Gillian had given him earlier. “You really think she’s turning on us?”
“It’s definitely a possibility…”
“What about you-know-who?”
“Don’t even say it,” Gallo interrupted. “She said he flew in this morning.”
“And you believe her?