The Wrong Man - Kate White Page 0,70

he said. “But what you just told me—it’s disturbing,” he said.

“The SEC will have to know about this, too. I take it you’ve talked to them now that you have the flash drive again.”

He took the last swig of his beer and set the mug down.

“No, not yet.”

Kit looked at him, stunned.

“But what are you waiting for?” she demanded. “They need to be informed, and so do the cops. Both the ones here and in Miami.”

“In light of how complicated the situation’s become—especially with Matt’s death—I’m working out a slightly different strategy with my attorney.”

And what could that mean? she wondered. Delaying seemed utterly crazy to her. It would only increase her vulnerability and his as well. She needed time to think, to determine if what he was telling her was true—and how to convince him to drag his butt to the authorities now.

“I’ll be right back,” she said. “I’m just going to use the restroom.”

The only bathroom was in the back of the restaurant, down a short, dark corridor. After peeing she washed her hands and then let the cold tap run, while she played back what Kelman had told her. His story, though overly complicated, might be true. From the little she’d read about insider trading cases, she’d learned that they were complex, and the stakes were very, very high. And yet Kelman might be spinning yet another tale for her. In the past few weeks she’d been fed bullshit stories about former tech businesses, stolen wallets, and business trips to Palm Beach, and she knew now that the words counted for next to nothing.

She looked in the mirror and saw that her face was flushed, in large part because of how agitated she felt. If Kelman’s story was true, and Ithaka had broken into his Miami rental, it meant they’d probably broken into her place as well. And they may have killed Matt Healy. She was now in more danger than she’d ever imagined. She had to convince Kelman to move faster. It was time to tell him about her trip to the Miami police because learning that he was a person of interest in a homicide might light a fire under him.

She ran a paper towel under the stream of cold water and dabbed at her face.

A woman was waiting for the bathroom when Kit emerged into the narrow corridor. She eased by the stranger and turned the corner into the main part of the restaurant. And then she halted, perplexed. Garrett Kelman wasn’t at the table. She spun outward, scanning the room. There was no sign of him anywhere. The men’s room? she wondered. But there was just the one bathroom.

She hurried to the table. Her wineglass was still at her place, and Garrett’s empty beer mug was just across from it. And in the middle of the table, tossed down as if in a rush, were three ten-dollar bills.

He was gone.

chapter 14

He’s played me again, she thought furiously. How could she have been so incredibly stupid to fall for it again?

Staring at the tabletop, she tried to process what had just happened. Clearly Kelman’s only motive for meeting her had been to tap into whatever details she was privy to. He’d offered up the story about illegal trading as a warm-up, to entice her into talking, and then once he learned what Healy had done, he bolted.

For a moment her gaze lingered on the clump of ten-dollar bills. Thank God for small favors, she thought mockingly. At least he hadn’t stiffed her with the check.

“Will there be anything else?” a voice from behind her inquired. She turned to see the waitress eyeing the scene quizzically. Kit realized that the woman probably assumed there’d been a lovers’ spat and Kelman had stormed off.

“No, nothing else. But—can you tell me? Did the man I was with say anything before he left?”

“He didn’t even ask for the check. I just saw him toss the money onto the table and then he took off in a rush.”

Kit muttered thank you and wiggled back into her slicker. Out on the street she punched her hands into her pockets and looked over the street, over the faces of passersby and into the dark slivers between buildings. What was she supposed to do now? she wondered. Call the police? The update she could offer O’Callaghan would sound even more absurd than the one she could have presented Sunday. “You know that mystery man, the one who I thought broke into my

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