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“No. Not until I know every single cop who’s part of this. She has valuable information, Matt—we need her safe.”
“Where?”
“I can’t tell you over the phone. Violet thinks someone tracked her on her phone, that they might be tracking my phone. I’m wiping it and dumping it before I take her.”
“I’ll meet you—tell me where you are.”
“Once she’s safe, I’ll get a disposable phone and call you. There are millions of dollars at stake, and people will kill for far less money.”
“Okay,” he said quietly. “Do not die on me.”
“Ditto. And, Matt? Find Will. He knows where Colton is, and he has been playing some game with me.”
She ended the call, erased the phone, restored it to factory settings, dropped it, then ran over it with the motorcycle. She turned to Violet. “Good?”
Violet nodded.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded again.
“It’s a nearly two-hour ride to where we’re going. Just hold on, we’ll be there sooner than you think.”
If you wanted something done right...
Conrad quietly fumed that the men he hired couldn’t do a simple job. He wouldn’t trust Theodore Duncan’s recommendations in the future. That man was, frankly, a pompous asshole.
He was, however, greatly impressed with the ability of Detective Quinn to extract herself from the dangerous situation. She was resourceful, a valuable attribute he admired. The cop’s tenacious reputation had been accurate and well-earned. Everything he’d learned about her in preparation for this job had been spot-on.
Now, he suspected the other bit of gossip he’d stumbled upon was also true: the detective and Agent Costa were involved. That tidbit could come in handy now...or in the future.
He had been correct that Quinn would find Ms. Halliday. Quinn would have been collateral damage; his job was to find Violet Halliday, extract what information she knew about the deleted files and any documentation she had, then dispose of her.
Conrad didn’t like killing innocents. Not Quinn—he wouldn’t like to kill her, and he may let her live depending on how things played out—but Ms. Halliday. The girl was just a computer nerd, a smart young woman who became nosy. In this case, there was no other option. She knew too much, she had to die.
He would charge more for his discomfort.
Conrad dialed the secure number of his FBI contact. It was late; he didn’t care.
Two rings later. “What happened?”
“Detective Quinn has Ms. Halliday. Where are they?”
“I need to get to my computer.”
“Your plan failed.”
“It wasn’t mine! I told you not to listen to Theodore—”
“You don’t pay my bills.”
Silence.
He didn’t like where this assignment had been going. Too many people with too much information. There was always a weak link.
He put half his money on this fed, the other half spread evenly around to the other conspirators.
“One minute, I’ll find her.”
