Unsolved (Invisible #2) - James Patterson Page 0,82
who worked part-time at his bookstore until recently, when things started getting so tight that he couldn’t afford to pay for additional help. It’s still too early to call, so the text messages will suffice. Something came up, wondering if you can cover the store the next few days, he cuts and pastes into his texts. For good measure, he also reaches out to the woman who sold him the store a few years ago. She still lives in Virginia in the summer and stops in occasionally, and she’s offered to lend a hand.
Petty could help too—he’s probably the best salesman Books has ever had in the store—but he doesn’t yet trust the homeless man with the cash register, with the money. And he has no way of reaching him.
He showers and towels off, and he’s formulating his plan for the day when his cell phone buzzes. He’s hoping it’s one of the people he texted offering to cover him for the rest of the week at the store. But it’s not.
“Did you see it?” Elizabeth Ashland says to him when he answers. Good morning to you too, Elizabeth.
“I saw it.”
“The FBI no longer suspects Citizen David in the Chicago bombing. What the fuck?”
The cussing seems out of character for Elizabeth. Is she really pissed off, or is she overcompensating?
“I was just beginning to like her.”
“Who?”
“Emmy,” she snaps. “Your girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend. Whatever.”
Whatever is probably the best description. “I’m on it,” he says.
“Are you? Director Moriarty says this is in your hands. You’re still up for this, Books? You’re not getting cold feet about nailing your ex?”
“I’m on it,” he says, and that’s all he’ll say.
“I’ll stay close to her. We’re working on an angle for the Chicago bombing right now that might be promising. I’ll keep an eye on her and see if there’s anything to report.”
Books sees his opening. “Elizabeth,” he says, “let me in on that angle. Let me in on the Chicago bombing.”
“Now, why would I do something like that?”
“You want me close to Emmy, right? The best way to do that is track her at work. That’s where she is all the time anyway.”
“You’re assigned to the leak investigation.”
“That’s what I’ll be doing.”
“It won’t seem a tad suspicious to Emmy if all of a sudden her ex-fiancé shows up to work on her case?”
“I’ll say the director brought me in. That he wanted a fresh look from an ex-agent he trusts.”
A pause while she lets that thought marinate. “Well, the director does seem to have a soft spot for you,” she concedes, though her tone implies she doesn’t understand why.
“You want me to find the leaker,” he says, “let me in on Chicago.”
More dead air, then a suspicious hum from her end of the line. “What happened to your bookstore? I thought you had a day job.”
“Don’t worry about the bookstore.”
Finally, an exasperated sigh. “Bookman, you’re not working both sides of this, are you? You’re not here to protect Emmy, you know. You’re here to catch the leaker.”
“I know my role,” he says. “If Emmy is the leaker, I’m going to put the handcuffs on her myself, remember?”
“If you’re screwing around on this,” she says, “I’ll put the handcuffs on you. Understand? Director’s favorite or not, I’ll lock you up.”
Books feels a smile on his face. Her threats aside, he got what he wanted. He’s in.
“We understand each other,” he says.
82
I MAKE it to the office by 6:15 a.m. Pully, looking worse than he did last night, walks in at the same time. Rabbit has beaten us there. She doesn’t look any better than Pully.
“What happened to you?” she asks me.
“To me? Nothing.”
“You look terrific.”
“I do?”
“What am I, a piece of garbage?” Pully asks.
“Eric, you look like a tired version of Eric. But our Emmy here.” She nods at me, then smirks. “I think our Emmy got some last night.”
“That’s ridiculous.” She’s wrong about the sex, but in some ways she’s correct. I feel it too. Something about seeing him, sharing with him, just spending time with him again…my batteries are recharged.
I put my bag on my desk. “The Post dropped a story this morning that Citizen David isn’t a suspect in Chicago.”
Howls of protest from Rabbit and Pully in their cubicles.
“Did it mention Darwin?” asks Rabbit. I hear the sound of her fingers peppering the keyboard as she pulls up the article.
“No—no state secrets given up. Just ruling out David as a suspect.”
“Who the hell’s leaking?” Pully asks. “Could’ve been any of them, right? The