victim of endless plots and stunts in Florida. But this was national politics. This was a presidential campaign. The stakes were higher. Had they really rattled Stanton so much that they were trying such things now?
Mike headed for the door and glanced back at Jaynie. She was curled in a fetal position, her eyes closed, mouth half-open. He wondered how many times he shared a bed with her and looked across at her face. He gazed at her closed lids, watched the twitching movements of her eyeballs, hinting at unknown dreams within. He tucked the blankets around her to make sure she stayed warm. A sadness welled up in him and for a moment his throat felt dry. I’ve lost her, he thought. Years ago. Long before our divorce. Yet there she was, like a ghost in his bed, sleeping as peacefully as he had ever seen her. He watched the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. He leaned over, kissed the top of her head softly, and got up to leave. He had work to do.
* * *
LAUREN WAITED for him in the lobby. She sat in the empty breakfast area across from a deserted reception desk.
“I think the reception guy is playing computer games in the back,” she said with a laugh. “So we have this place to ourselves.”
Mike settled down opposite her. She looked calm and, he could not help notice, beautiful without her makeup. There was a flashy determination in her eyes that was at odds with the confusion and panic in her voice when she first called him. Clearly she had gathered her wits. Just as he had. This would not be a conversation. This would be a chess match. Two opponents, each wary of the other’s intentions, yet each needing information from the other. Lauren smiled sweetly and pushed a paper across the table between them. He picked it up and scanned the figures and words.
Guatemala.
Shit.
His nerve-endings screamed like a tripped alarm. With an iron will, Mike kept his eyes trained on the page. He could not give away anything. He kept staring, moving his eyes rapidly up and down the sheet of paper. Lauren knew nothing about the shooter being Guatemalan, he thought. She couldn’t. He was ahead of her. He looked up and shrugged.
“I don’t understand what this is,” he said.
Lauren looked at him.
“Christine Hodges has been wiring money to someone in Guatemala. Someone thinks that’s interesting enough to slip this under my door at night. Someone wants this information out there,” she said.
Mike felt a hint of relief. She was new to this game. She had nothing yet. She fired her shot too early. Mike would try to play dumb, even as he took in the implications of her words: some bastard literally pushed this stuff under Lauren’s door. And perhaps other doors too, hoping someone would have the balls to just put it out there and see where it went.
“So?” Mike said, trying not to sound abrupt. “They spent time there in the 80s, or maybe even the early 90s. I can’t quite remember. It’s probably some charity donation or something.”
He looked at her face to see how she reacted. He watched her watching him for his own expression. Mike had a brief mental flash of poker games back in Corinth Falls, bluffing with Sean and his friends, laughing and joking as Jaynie took all their money. She was always best at convincing everyone she was on a bluff while she sat with aces in her hand. He sensed Lauren was like that too. He desperately wanted to ask if she planned to write something. But he knew to do so would only arouse suspicion. His only chance was to feign indifference.
“Someone on the other side thinks it’s important,” Lauren said.
“Maybe. But it’s not enough to get me out of bed,” Mike joked.
Lauren smiled an apology.
“It’s just Stanton’s people playing with our minds,” Mike said. “I can understand why it might freak you out when someone creeps around a hotel like that. But I’ll check it out and get back to you. Can you get me a copy of it, so I can run it by our
Mike headed for the door and glanced back at Jaynie. She was curled in a fetal position, her eyes closed, mouth half-open. He wondered how many times he shared a bed with her and looked across at her face. He gazed at her closed lids, watched the twitching movements of her eyeballs, hinting at unknown dreams within. He tucked the blankets around her to make sure she stayed warm. A sadness welled up in him and for a moment his throat felt dry. I’ve lost her, he thought. Years ago. Long before our divorce. Yet there she was, like a ghost in his bed, sleeping as peacefully as he had ever seen her. He watched the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. He leaned over, kissed the top of her head softly, and got up to leave. He had work to do.
* * *
LAUREN WAITED for him in the lobby. She sat in the empty breakfast area across from a deserted reception desk.
“I think the reception guy is playing computer games in the back,” she said with a laugh. “So we have this place to ourselves.”
Mike settled down opposite her. She looked calm and, he could not help notice, beautiful without her makeup. There was a flashy determination in her eyes that was at odds with the confusion and panic in her voice when she first called him. Clearly she had gathered her wits. Just as he had. This would not be a conversation. This would be a chess match. Two opponents, each wary of the other’s intentions, yet each needing information from the other. Lauren smiled sweetly and pushed a paper across the table between them. He picked it up and scanned the figures and words.
Guatemala.
Shit.
His nerve-endings screamed like a tripped alarm. With an iron will, Mike kept his eyes trained on the page. He could not give away anything. He kept staring, moving his eyes rapidly up and down the sheet of paper. Lauren knew nothing about the shooter being Guatemalan, he thought. She couldn’t. He was ahead of her. He looked up and shrugged.
“I don’t understand what this is,” he said.
Lauren looked at him.
“Christine Hodges has been wiring money to someone in Guatemala. Someone thinks that’s interesting enough to slip this under my door at night. Someone wants this information out there,” she said.
Mike felt a hint of relief. She was new to this game. She had nothing yet. She fired her shot too early. Mike would try to play dumb, even as he took in the implications of her words: some bastard literally pushed this stuff under Lauren’s door. And perhaps other doors too, hoping someone would have the balls to just put it out there and see where it went.
“So?” Mike said, trying not to sound abrupt. “They spent time there in the 80s, or maybe even the early 90s. I can’t quite remember. It’s probably some charity donation or something.”
He looked at her face to see how she reacted. He watched her watching him for his own expression. Mike had a brief mental flash of poker games back in Corinth Falls, bluffing with Sean and his friends, laughing and joking as Jaynie took all their money. She was always best at convincing everyone she was on a bluff while she sat with aces in her hand. He sensed Lauren was like that too. He desperately wanted to ask if she planned to write something. But he knew to do so would only arouse suspicion. His only chance was to feign indifference.
“Someone on the other side thinks it’s important,” Lauren said.
“Maybe. But it’s not enough to get me out of bed,” Mike joked.
Lauren smiled an apology.
“It’s just Stanton’s people playing with our minds,” Mike said. “I can understand why it might freak you out when someone creeps around a hotel like that. But I’ll check it out and get back to you. Can you get me a copy of it, so I can run it by our
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