Together Again: Book 3 in the Second Chances series (Crimson Romance) (17 page)

“Got people doing that. I get to babysit the banged-up DA.” He stared at her face for a few seconds. “Margo, since you’re now officially on Viktor’s shit list, you’re gonna need more security.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I’m putting you in a hotel downtown where we can keep an eye on you.”

“Absolutely not. I won’t be cooped up in a hotel room.”

“You don’t have a choice. I just talked to Lt. Angel. He says the chief and Jeff have agreed that’s how to handle this. Danny will stay with you at night. I’ll have someone walk you back and forth to the courthouse and stay with you during the day.”

“I won’t … ”

“You will.” He had a look on his face that brooked no further argument. “If they keep you overnight here, you’ll have a police guard at the door of your room. If they release you, I’ll go with you so you can pack up what you want to take with you.”

“Can’t I … ?”

“Sit in protective custody in a nice little jail cell? I understand that was discussed. But they didn’t think you’d like the food.”

“Goddamn. Shit. Son of a bitch.”

“That about sums it up, counselor.”

• • •

They kept her overnight, but she showed no signs of concussion. The next morning, the officer at the door of her hospital room escorted her home and she packed up a week’s worth of clothes and went to work.

That’s where she discovered her daytime security was Tony. He sat outside her office door working on a laptop, interspersed with conversations with all the women who walked by. He was distracting. For the office, of course.

Her first opportunity to complain about her security detail came that afternoon when she was summoned to Central Precinct to meet with Sam.

She didn’t pay any attention to Tony hovering in the background when she got to Sam’s desk. “What the hell are you thinking, Sam? I don’t need a bodyguard or a babysitter in my office. No one’s gonna get at me there.”

“People with more experience than you have decided you do need a bodyguard, Margo. So, you’ve got one.”

“Then why not assign Danny? She’s with me at the hotel every night, why not at work?”

“I need her here. And, if you’re this pleasant to her at the hotel, she deserves a break from being with you.”

“I like you, Sam, I really do. But you’re bossy and stubborn and you’re … ”

“In charge of this part of the investigation so let’s go someplace with some peace and quiet and figure out what’s next.” He stood up from his desk and made a gesture indicating she was to follow him down the hall.

“I’m not going to win this, am I?” Margo said.

“Nope. And, FYI, I’m better at bossy and stubborn than you are, which might explain why it irritates you so much.”

Margo pretended to ignore the grin on his face. And she refused to look at Tony who snorted at Sam’s response.

Sam borrowed Lt. Angel’s office, which was empty for the moment. After Danny arrived he started with, “So, where are we?”

“I got a message from Viktor I need to tell you about.” Margo looked from Sam to Danny. “But first, no one’s asked me why Viktor hasn’t thought twice about dealing with me. Aren’t you curious?”

“He thinks you’re your father’s daughter,” Sam responded.

Margo felt her eyes widen. “How do you know about my father?”

“Same way Viktor does, I imagine. I Googled you.”

“I’ve never seen anything about my father when I’ve Googled myself.”

“Must not have gone back far enough. It was there when I looked last week. The feds and I wanted the answer to the question you just asked. I asked Jeff and he suggested I search online.”

“What the fuck’re you talking about?” Danny asked.

“My father was a lawyer, too, Danny. He had a private practice with a lot of little clients and one big one — the Philly mob. He died in a federal prison after being convicted on RICO charges. Tony’s family lived next door to mine so he knows about it. But no one in Portland knows — well, I
thought
no one knew — except Jeff and he’d promised not to tell anyone. Viktor has hinted in the past that he knew and now, with this last email, he’s blatant about it.”

She handed Sam a copy of the message.
“You’re playing a dangerous game. Being Kenny Keyes’ daughter won’t protect you. Follow these directions precisely or you’ll pay the same price your two colleagues did.”
It continued with a list of instructions on how to deliver his “merchandise” to a Russian grocery store in two days.

“Now what, Sam?” Margo asked.

“Now we have two days to figure out what he wants. Anyone have any bright ideas?” There was no response. He started pacing the floor. “Okay, what do we know? Two people were trying to sell something they’d stolen from Microsoft to Viktor and maybe to someone else in competing deals. We thought the flash drive was it, but Viktor says it isn’t. He thinks Margo’s holding out on him. Two people who crossed him are already dead, which puts a big, fat target on Margo’s back. That’s all we know. And it’s jack shit.”

He scrubbed his hands over his face as if to wash away his frustration. “I’m tired of what we don’t know, can’t find or didn’t do right. We cannot fall on our asses again. It’s too important and I don’t like having the rug pulled out from under me this way.”

Tony shook his head. “So, what do we do? All I can come up with is tearing Jameson’s and Nixon’s bags apart. Literally. Maybe something’s hidden there.”

“That’s all I can come up with, too,” Sam said. “Can you get the Philly police or the feds to take Jameson’s bag apart while we do hers?”

“Yeah, I’ll do it now,” Tony said and left the meeting to make the call.

“Danny, call the Redmond PD and ask them again what they found in Nixon’s place. Maybe we overlooked something there.”

“What can I do, Sam?” Margo asked.

“Answer Viktor’s email. Stall him. Get us more time. Otherwise, you’re going out to Beaverton with nothing to offer except your charm and those black eyes you’re sporting.”

Back in her office, Margo responded to Viktor’s email. After a few negotiations that made her feel quite proud of herself, Viktor gave her one extra day. She emailed Sam about the extra day, omitting the other negotiations.

“When do we leave for court?” Tony asked. Kiki had been giving him her schedule every day, much to Margo’s annoyance, and he’d announced first thing that morning he’d be going with her down to the courtroom.

“I leave in a few minutes. You’re staying here. Sam didn’t mean for you to follow me every place. He just said you’re here as security.” She slammed her laptop closed, shoved it into her messenger bag and crammed papers in on top.

“What the hell did you think he meant? I’m going with you.”

She slung the messenger bag over her shoulder. “You’re supposed to protect me, not order me around.”

“Protecting you means you do what I say.”

“Oh yeah?” She was tired of being followed, babied, protected. Particularly by
him.
“Suppose I don’t want to do what you say?”

He stood directly in front of her, his hands balled into fists, which he kept clenching while he talked. “Jesus, Keyes, you’re so predictable. You’d argue about anything, wouldn’t you, just for the sport of it. Don’t you get it? This isn’t a sport. If you don’t care about your own safety, I do. My ass is on the line here if something happens to you.”

The steam went out of her anger as she tried to control the twitch at the corner of her mouth.

“You find that amusing, do you?”

“I just had a sudden image of your local fan club members with pitchforks and torches coming after me if I was responsible for anything happening to your a … to you.” She turned for the door. “I’m going to the ladies’ room. Want to come in with me? I think your groupies meet there to talk about you. Maybe they’ll help you get me under control.”

He muttered something about driving the Dalai Lama to violence and let her walk in front of him out of her office.

Tony took a seat toward the back of the sparsely populated courtroom. Sitting on the defense side were three people who, from the way they talked to the defendant, knew him. There was a fifty-ish man and woman, the defendant’s parents, she assumed.

Paul Dreier, the third person, was in close conversation with the father, who looked familiar, although she didn’t know why. She wasn’t sure why Paul was there. He was no criminal lawyer. But it did go a long way toward explaining some of his recent comments and suggestions as well as his interest in the case when he was in her office recently.

Gene Orlov, the young man on trial, sat slumped in his chair, pulling at the necktie he was wearing and listening to his lawyer talk to his parents. He’d been very cocky when she’d met with him and his lawyer early on, insisting on going to trial for the armed robbery of a credit union rather than taking a plea bargain. He swore he was innocent. It was a coincidence that the woman who was beaten was a teller who had repeatedly refused to go out with him and had filed a restraining order against him. A coincidence that he had a gun just like the one used in the holdup. And his car, which had been seen leaving the scene, had been stolen from him the morning of the robbery.

But recently the police had turned up a witness. A woman at the ATM outside the credit union had seen the face of the robber before he’d pulled down his ski mask and had immediately picked him out of a photo lineup. She’d been out of the country for two months and had only just realized what she’d seen.

The defendant was considerably less cocky this morning.

The proceedings started on time, the judge being one of Margo’s favorites for exactly that reason. After Margo got the police testimony and the circumstantial evidence on the record, she was ready to call the eyewitness to the stand when the judge recessed for lunch.

As she was gathering up her papers and getting ready to leave, the defense attorney came over to the prosecutor’s table and asked to talk to Margo in private. He had walked to the brink but had finally decided to deal.
We’re done here
, she thought, with some satisfaction.

On the way out of the courtroom, she ran into Dreier. “Paul, what are you doing here? This is out of your bailiwick, isn’t it?”

“The kid is. His father isn’t. I gather the kid’s attorney is willing to deal. Are you going for a stiff sentence?”

“I’m about to see what his attorney’s asking for. You got something you want to add to the discussion?”

“Just that his father is a prominent man in the community and would be willing to take on some responsibility for his son if you’ll go easy on him. And he’d be in your debt if you would do that. He’s the kind of person you would rather have working for you than against you, particularly given what you’re involved in.”

“Not sure what that means. But thanks for the advice.”

“It’s more than advice, Margo. It’s a strong suggestion. You might be in over your head, here. Be careful.”

“Paul, I have to get to my meeting with the defense counsel. I appreciate your interest but I think I can handle this on my own.”

She watched Dreier go down the hall toward the older man, the father, who was waiting at the end of the hall. He’d apparently been staring at her the whole time she talked with Dreier. Even at a distance, the way he was looking at her made her uncomfortable. She was glad to get away from his stare and into the conference with his son’s attorney.

By the time she had worked out the deal with the defense attorney and his client had accepted, it was late afternoon. Tony was waiting outside the door of the room where she’d been meeting with the defense attorney.

She strode past him, ran the steps to her floor and went into her office with him following close behind. Dropping her bag on the desk with a thump, she said, “I suppose you think I should be grateful you let me negotiate with defense counsel without you sitting there.”

“You got out of the courtroom before I could get to you, or I would have been. At least I knew where you were and who was with you.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, surely you have something better to do than babysit me.”

“There’re a hell of a lot of other things I could be doing, some of them even more challenging, all of them more interesting, but keeping you alive and breathing is at the top of the ‘to do’ list I’ve been given. I don’t like this gig any more than you do, sweetheart. But I’m stuck with it. So are you.” He went to the door. “We have a meeting at Central Precinct in an hour. Danny’ll walk you back to the hotel after that.”

She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. “Yes, Tony. Anything you say, Tony.”

“Damn right, anything I say. Glad to see you’re finally getting the message.”

• • •

The full team was at the meeting — Jeff, the Portland Police Bureau contingent, the FBI, the two other cops from Long Beach and Seattle. But increasing the number of people involved in the conversation hadn’t gotten them anywhere. They reviewed the results from the two crime labs taking Jameson’s and Nixon’s briefcases apart. Nothing. The Redmond, Washington police had gone back to Nixon’s home and searched it again. They’d done the same at Jameson’s house. Experts had searched the computers of both victims twice. Nil. Nada. Bupkis.

Sam had scrubbed his hand over his face in frustration so many times while the information was being presented, Margo was sure he had abraded the surface layer of his skin.

Jeff Wyatt, who was running the meeting, said, “We have exactly forty-eight hours to come up with what he wants or we’re sending Margo to Beaverton with nothing. And we can’t cancel. That runs the risk he hunts her down. Either way … ” He didn’t finish the sentence but everyone in the room knew what he meant.

Danny said, “How did Viktor know that what he wanted wasn’t on the flash drive?”

“Yeah, I keep coming back to that, too, Danny,” Sam said. “He only saw it. He didn’t have to pull it up on a computer. So how did he know it wasn’t what he had bought?”

“Have we run the information on those two programs by our Microsoft contact?” Tony asked.

“What’s that have to do with it?” Wyatt asked.

“Have we?” Tony persisted.