Page 7 of Fugitive Flirtation
“Call me when you get there. In the meantime, I’m going to do a little snooping. If those guys were not the competition, then something doesn’t smell right.”
I hang up and try to focus on the road. Ice is right. Something’s off about this whole situation. I glance at Alicia again. She doesn’t look like a criminal mastermind to me, but then the successful ones never do. All good con men or women have one thing in common: they appear trustworthy.
“Who were those men?” I ask, breaking the silence.
Alicia shakes her head. “I don’t know. They didn’t really want me. They couldn’t care less about me; they only want the money, that’s for sure.”
“What do you mean?”
She hesitates, as if debating how much to tell me. “Look, I’m guessing what you’ve heard about me. But whatever you heard is not the whole story. I didn’t steal that money for myself.”
Fuck. My house of cards crumbles. So much for her being innocent. “Oh really? Then who did you steal it for?”
“It’s not like that.” She shrugs and folds her arms. “If I told you what happened, you would never believe me.”
“Try me anyway.”
“Well, it’s… it’s complicated.”
The truth is never complicated. It’s the lies that are.
My brains want to dismiss her claims as a desperate attempt to save her own skin. My gut, which has saved my life countless times when I was a cop, senses there might be some truth to what she’s saying. And then there’s another part of me, one that shouldn’t be used for thinking, which argues that there’s a better way to make her talk… and the image of me dragging her under the shower to help her clean up crosses my mind again.
Thankfully rush hour traffic takes care of my raging hard-on. I hate tourist season. It takes us twenty minutes to get to our destination. One prospect is already there, his ride parked next to the gate. He opens the garage door for me so I can hide the car and closes it behind us.
I guide Alicia outside the building, through the overgrown backyard and into the shack. As we pass the door, I put my hand on the small of her back and she shudders… Yeah, it’s freezing in here. Why do they keep it so cold?
We refer to this place as the shack, but it’s really a large studio complete with a shower room and a small kitchen. From the street it does a great job of masquerading as a garden tool shed. It’s a little too small for two strangers, but it will have to do.
Inside the studio, another prospect closes the fridge door as we step in.
“You have enough food for a few days,” he says rushing out the door.
“We won’t be here that long,” I answer, pressing the electronic lock behind him.
That could just be wishful thinking.
6
The two young men who got us settled in leave and Ace takes over on the couch. He plays with a remote control. There’s a small screen on the wall. A view of the shack from different angles flashes at regular intervals. Eyes on the monitor, he yawns and stretches his legs while I pace.
“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” he says, a hint of amusement in his voice.
I stop and turn to face him. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Then talk to me, Alicia. Help me understand what’s really going on.”
I hesitate. Can I trust him? Should I? What if, for once, I didn’t over-analyze everything and just jumped in? I will most likely curse myself later, but right now, something in his gaze compels me to open up. Okay, here I go.
“I didn’t steal the money. I was set up.”
Ace nods, encouraging me to continue.
I take a deep breath and sit down next to him.
“As far as I know, only three persons had access to the accounts from which the money was taken. Me, my boss, and his son. That’s it.” I sigh and shake my head. “I don’t think it’s Mr.Blackwell. The man’s a rule follower… And he doesn’t need the money.”
Ace laughs. “Don’t be too sure about that. For some people, enough is not a thing.”