the words.
He knew that Jackson had partnered him with the best possible person on this case, with or without her extraordinary ability to dream the future.
He walked over to the table and took a seat, smiling. “Ms. Bronsen,” he said, “would you mind coming with us right now? We’re going to see to it that you’re kept safe.”
“Y-you want me to go back to the office and resign?” she asked, her hands shaking as she picked up her cup.
“No, no. We’ll have you call in to work, just say that you’re leaving immediately because of a family emergency and you’ll send in any pertinent work. Don’t get involved with explanations. Make it short and sweet.”
“Now?” Peggy asked nervously. “You think that I should call now?”
“We can wait until we get in the car,” Stacey said. She indicated the room and people around them, suggesting it might be better if all else was said in private.
But he asked her, “Do you think that there’s someone else from the office in here now? Or anyone from the building who might mention they saw you here?”
She looked around and shook her head. “But they could pop in at any second. Especially that sourpuss of his!”
“Sourpuss? I’m guessing you mean his secretary?” Stacey asked.
“Agnes Merkle. She could have been a drill instructor. She comes here. I wouldn’t want her to see me.”
He leaned across the table, making unflinching eye contact.
“She’s not going to hurt you or do anything to you—ever again. You will walk out of here between two federal agents. You don’t need to worry about her, now or ever.”
She smiled, still shaking, but maybe a little less.
“Shall we go?” Stacey asked.
“We’re ready, right?” he said to Peggy.
She looked at the two of them and gave a tremulous smile. “Ready!” she said.
They stood up and walked out.
And while Keenan halfway expected the sourpuss drill-sergeant Agnes Merkle to come after them waving a letter opener, they left without incident.
“Do you see anyone out here that you know?” Keenan asked her as he opened the back door of his car.
She looked around quickly, then ducked into the car.
“No, I don’t think so,” she told him.
He didn’t know everyone in her office, but he’d recognize Agnes Merkle if he saw her.
No. She was not on the street.
But he did want to see her again, at another time.
Eventually, he wanted to get some hooks into the woman and find out just what secrets she might be hiding as well.
Nine
The night had been dark when Jess Marlborough had last been seen alive.
But Brian, a whiz from Tech with an amazing ability to clean up and sharpen any video, film or still photo was incredibly adept. He was a lean fellow with wild red hair and a great deal of enthusiasm, and probably a year or two younger than Stacey’s age—young but talented. He managed to brighten up the image of the street.
“Let’s run the whole video right now,” Jean Channing suggested. She looked over at Stacey and Keenan and explained, “Your call, but I haven’t seen it all yet, either.”
“Let’s run it,” Keenan agreed.
He was point man on the case, though Stacey knew that Jackson had intended on being in here while they viewed the surveillance video. But he and Angela had taken Peggy into Jackson’s office. They were working with her, trying to go through her memory, hoping for anything else she might be able to give them.
Brian ran the video.
A large black vehicle drove up and parked outside the apartment building. It sat, nothing happening, for a few minutes. Waiting? Then, a man got out of the car.
Next to Keenan, Stacey let out a little gasp.
The shadows allowed them to see nothing of his face.
He seemed irritable as he met up with Jess Marlborough, just outside the windows to the little apartment the women shared. His movements were sharp, tense. He all but grabbed her arm to lead her to the car.
She had probably been late. A minute or two late. And that had kept this man waiting in an area where he didn’t want to be seen.
But the irritation seemed to ease—was it forced? His hold released. He opened the passenger door for Jess.
She had been a pretty young woman. A little worn and jaded by what she had learned from life, but still brightened by a little ray of hope.
The man kept his head down the entire time. He was wearing a suit and a brimmed hat, looking like any banker or businessman might